“Yeah, I’ll be there.” I handed her the twenty bucks. “Thanks for this, Hope. I really appreciate it.”

“No worries, chick. Let me know if you need more.”

I walked her out and shut the door behind her. When I turned around, Zeke was standing there with his arms crossed and a pissed-off look on his face.

“What the fuck was that about?” His stare was accusing.

“I told you it was girl stuff.” I went into the kitchen and dug through the cabinets for something not stale.

“What kind of ‘girl stuff?’” His eyes followed me around the kitchen.

“Geez, Zeke, I needed some tampons, if you must know, and Hope brought me some.”

I mentally patted myself on the back for thinking so quickly on my feet. And when his lips lifted up into an awkward smile and he turned away without another word, I celebrated inside.

When it was time for me to go to class, I left Zeke at home. He didn’t look too happy about sitting around the apartment all day, bored, but until we got used to these new arrangements, it would have to do.

By the time I got home from practice, it was late in the afternoon. I was expecting him to be lounging on the couch, miserable—the way he was when I left him—but I was surprised when I walked into an empty place. Since my apartment was so small, it didn’t take but a few seconds to see that he wasn’t in the shower or the bedroom.

I was pulling out my phone to call him and see where he was when the front door opened and he came in with an arm full of groceries. I rushed up to take the bag from him, but he pulled away.

“I got it!” he said quickly.

I let him struggle to get the bags to the kitchen counter.

“You went grocery shopping? In a strange town with no car and a broken hand? What were you thinking?”

Sure, he was a grown man, but had he waited a little while, I could’ve taken him and saved him from possibly injuring his hand worse.

“I was thinking I was fucking starving. All you had here was bad milk. I’m not a baby, Patience. I can handle going to the grocery store.”

Exhaustion kept me from arguing. He was here and his hand seemed to be no better or no worse than it was when I left him. There was no need to push it. It’s not like arguing was going to make things better between us.

I threw my bag on the counter and went for a shower. When I got out, the smell of food cooking in the kitchen filled the room. It smelled amazing and made my stomach rumble. I was starving.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” I said as I towel-dried my hair.

“It’s the least I can do. If I’m going to be staying here, I can at least make sure you’re fed.” He grinned up at me and for a brief moment, he felt like my Zeke again.

“I love it when you do that,” I said without thinking.

“Do what? Cook?” he asked as he took a pot from the stove.

“No. Smile at me. I miss it. I miss you.” Tears clogged my throat, making my last words sound thick.

Turning off the stove, he crept over to me and put an arm around my waist. He worked his fingers through my wet strands of hair and shook his head.

“I miss me, too. I know I’ve been weird lately. I just don’t know what to do if I can’t play. I feel lost.”

“You’re more than just a guitar player, you know.” I snuggled against his hard chest and breathed him in.

“Is that so? Tell me what I am, then.”

Hooking my arms around his neck, my body shivered when he ran a finger across the bare skin just above my pajama pants.

“You’re my happy place,” I whispered against his lips.

He nipped at my top lip and teased the seam of my mouth with his tongue.

“And you’re mine. I love you, Patience. More than you could ever comprehend.” His hand moved under my shirt and brushed the soft skin beneath my bra.

“My name’s Snowflake.”

He smiled sweetly down at me and kissed me fully for the first time in days. I felt the tension that had formed between us after the accident slowly slip away. Reaching up his shirt, I placed my palms against his hard chest.

He backed me up against the kitchen counter, and I caught him around his cast before he could attempt to lift me up. He stopped kissing me and looked down at me in confusion.

“You’re wounded. Let me,” I said as I kissed him and pulled him with me into the living room.

I pushed him down onto the couch and climbed up on top of him. Lifting his shirt up over his head, I pulled it easily over his cast. He gripped my ass with his good hand and pulled me down onto him. Reaching back, I pulled his hand off of me and intertwined my fingers with his. I pressed his hand into the couch and attempted to hold him down.