Who Do You Love - Dean Ambrose

Chapter 39: Homebound

"Princess, you're stayin' here an' that's all there is to it."

Dean was striding around the room as he spoke, throwing the last few pieces of his clothing into the bag lying open on our bed. Boomer was sprawled out close alongside it and with a doleful little look on his big furry face, since he knew that the case meant his master was leaving and, like me, it bummed him out. He extracted a pair of socks to showcase his misery and I plucked them from his mouth and put them back in, running my fingers in a scratch beneath his ear fold that made him grunt and twist his head.

"But, I – I'm feeling much better now, it was nearly six days ago."

"Lauren, you got knocked out, you're gonna be feelin' it for at least another week yet."

"I'll take it easy, I promise, I just want to come."

From where he was trying to find his little travel toothbrush in the haphazard way that men seemed to like to search, blue eyes lifted up then flickered over briefly like he was maybe debating his super tough stance. He had been clear from the moment we had left Indianapolis that he felt I would be safer at home for a while and although I had assumed that was just heat-of-the-moment thinking, since then he hadn't let up his position on it once. I on the other hand was less convinced by it, because as always I wanted to stay with him, besides which it was my job. I worked in the industry just the same as he did and without it I had nothing on which to hang my hat.

He huffed a sigh out,

"Princess, I can't do it, I can't let you back there until I know it's fuckin' safe, which it's not gonna be 'til I bury that asshole and make sure the whole world knows you're off limits, okay?"

"But how long will that take?"

It was a relevant enough question since he seemed to be gunning for the entire corporate team and they would by no means go down without swinging, besides which they outnumbered my angry boyfriend five to one. Relatively speaking I couldn't fault his instincts and had no real problem with him taking them all down, but if that took months or years then what did I do?

I couldn't just sit at home waiting.

I would go insane.

Dean seemed to know it as well, or at least clue into it, because he crossed the room and came to a standstill in front of me, cupping my downturned face with his rough palms and then tilting it upwards so that he could show me some love.

His lips ghosted my forehead,

"I'll get 'em for you baby."

"I know you will, but what am I meant to do until then?"

My fingers slid through the belt loops on his jean fronts and then hung there like I could maybe persuade him to stay, or else take me with him as some fashion accessory, which was probably a long shot. Dean blew out another sigh,

"You could take up knittin'?"

"I have a job, remember?"

It was a point I felt duty bound to have to make, since he seemed to have forgotten that I also got a pay cheque and while it wasn't as much as his, it was still more than I'd ever made. Back when I had started with the company nine months ago, I had been simply ferrying towels and water back and forth, but since then I had been vaguely promoted up to valet and the increased television time had evidently meant more cash. Not that I was sure who was dishing it out to me –