I wanted this tie-dyed fleece blanket with every fiber of my being. It was warm, soft, and worn. The colors would clash with my lavender and grey bedclothes. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t convince myself not to steal this blanket. And it didn’t make sense. Okay, that wasn’t true. It did make sense because the damn thing smelled so much like Gamble. Something about him watching over me struck me deep. The blanket was a reminder of him and it made me feel better. More secure.
Good grief, had I regressed to childhood? Did I really need a blankie to feel secure?
I needed to leave. Fiona was willing to take me back to my apartment. I didn’t want to hold her up.
The door opened. Fiona and the red-haired woman who’d helped last night came into the room.
“I’m not rushing you, Victoria. I just want to be sure you’re okay.”
My eyes went to the side. How many times were people going to ask me if I was okay? And I understood that need. That drive to help.
But I didn’t think I would ever be okay again.
“Is his shirt too big? You could—”
“I want his blanket,” I whispered.
Fiona’s blue eyes almost lit up at my words, but she hid it.
“You take it,” the other woman said.
Fiona glared at her. “Abby, I don’t—”
“He won’t care,” Abby said to her.
“I don’t have my pants,” I said.
“They’re evidence now in case you decide to press charges. Stephanie offered some yoga pants, I’ll go get ‘em,” Abby said.
For some reason, Fiona followed Abby. As they left Gamble came into the room.
Since I was never good at being a sneak, I admitted, “I’m taking your blanket.”
His eyes landed on me, and they looked pained. “Have at it, kitten. Anything I can give you, it’s yours.”
I closed my eyes and turned my head away.
Pity. He would give me the blanket because he pitied me.
Guess I’d have to get used to that too in the days ahead.
Abby came back in with yoga pants and Gamble cleared out.
I put on the stretchy pants. Then I folded the blanket and left it on his bed.
I didn’t want it anymore. No matter how much it smelled like him.
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