The decision was left up to me, obviously because I’m a grown woman. I made it clear to Pops that I in no way doubted his ability to take care of me but that I would be less stressed if I could be in the same place as Ben. When the Gerhards added that he and Marcus were welcome over anytime of the day, that did a lot to placate him.

I’ve been here for a week, only able to see Ben during visiting hours. But, today, he’s getting out.

The sound of the front door opening has me standing, but I hold myself back, not wanting to crowd them.

“Holly?”

All reasoning for waiting where I am flees at the sound of him saying my name. Ben is here. I’m hustling forward when he rounds the corner. It takes a decent amount of willpower not to throw myself at him. Instead, I step into his open arms, gently sliding my hands up his back as I hug him close.

“You’re here. Finally.”

Under my cheek, his chest vibrates with a chuckle. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Ben combs his fingers into my hair and then gives the strands a gentle tug. I grin as I tilt my head up.

Our lips meet, and a sigh of utter contentment flows from me to him. He tenderly handles me, kissing in a slow, deliberate manner—and not only my mouth. No, he ventures further. To my nose, my forehead, my cheeks, my jaw. His sweet caress reaches my neck when there’s a deliberate throat clearing behind him.

My face flushes a deep red, which is ridiculous. Over the past few days, Ben’s parents have helped me in all types of extremely tedious ways. I can only attribute my current embarrassment to the fact that I was in the middle of imagining stripping their only son of all his clothes and ravishing him in their foyer.

Or maybe it’s because the simple action of kissing the man I love is the most deeply intimate act I’ve ever performed.

Whatever the case, I have the complexion of a tomato when I lock eyes with the Gerhards.

“We’re always happy to see him, too, dear. Only I don’t think he enjoys our greetings near as much.” His mom relays this comment in a deadpan tone.

I can’t help myself. Laughter spills out of me as I bury my face in Ben’s shoulder. He chuckles right along with me and presses a kiss in my hair.

“How are you feeling?” He moves us out of his parents’ way as he asks the question.

They head upstairs, leaving us to catch up on our own.

“Oh, I’m good. I feel much stronger. For the most part. There will be random times when I’m good and then—boom!—I’m exhausted. Your parents have been great,” I whisper the last sentence, having found that Mrs. and Mr. Gerhard tend to shrug off praise unless it’s about their son.

“Good. So, you still wanna stay here?” His hands remain wrapped around the back of my head, massaging my neck.