Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“But he’s going to be okay.” I needed that confirmation.
“Yes,” she answered with a soft chuckle. “Are you close, because he’s already informed us he won’t sleep until he sees you.”
“I’m right outside.”
“Excellent. It’s after visiting hours, but I have you on the list, so just sign in at the front desk and you can come up.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Chen.”
“You’re very welcome, Mr. Harcourt, and good luck.”
She hung up first, and I turned to Eli, who was smiling at me.
“I had no doubt,” he assured me.
I was still cold, even in a heavy cardigan, one of Sam’s that I couldn’t help but grab, and was hugging myself as I walked with Eli to the front of the hospital.
With his badge, they didn’t question my companion, and I had to wonder, what if my license, which I had to show the guard, was a fake? What if Eli’s star wasn’t real? How did they know who we were, really? Even at the door to Sam’s room, where the two marshals I’d met earlier were stationed, I thought, what if they didn’t know Eli on sight? What if I was an assassin, and my partner had Eli’s kids at his home with a gun trained on them so Eli was forced to walk me in to kill Sam, and then I shot out the window and jumped free, hang gliding from the height safely to the street below? And yes, the scenario was insane, but the point was that there were holes in every system. If you really wanted to, it was just a question of waiting for your moment. The thought terrified me, and I started to tremble as my brain ran free.
Eli stood to the side, holding open the door for me, but didn’t follow. He probably wanted to see Sam for himself.
“Kohn,” Sam growled from where he was sitting up in bed, flipping the channels on the television set.
“Sir,” Eli returned, and then I heard the door click closed.
Sam put the remote down and turned his head to look at me. I was frozen, staring, soaking up the vision of his appearance—tired but whole, brows furrowed, face blotchy with what would be bruises, his right eye, especially, going to be black and blue. In a hospital gown, but otherwise, the same man who had left the house that morning.
“You’re shaking,” he commented.
The tears came fast.
“Come here,” he ordered, and I darted but froze before leaping into the outstretched arms, stopping even before I reached the bed.
“You’re not gonna hurt me. You know you’re not.”
I bent close, careful and slow, tentative, and he grabbed me and clutched me tight.
“No,” I cried out, my voice breaking, “don’t tear your stitches or––”
“Baby, I’m okay,” he crooned, turning his head to kiss my cheek. “And I promise nobody’s coming after me. I’m not on some scary international hit list, and I’m not about to be attacked by…I dunno what…skydiving ninjas?”
I pulled back to look at his face. “How did you know?”
He scoffed. “Love, I know you better’n anybody. I know how your brain works and how far afield it goes when you get scared. But this isn’t The Godfather, so you won’t have to wheel me out of here into another room when mobsters masquerading as marshals show up in the lobby. You and Enzo don’t hafta worry.”
I dissolved then, thinking about one of Sam’s favorite movies and the many times I’d watched it with him, cuddled into his side. He held me until I could breathe, and when I straightened up, he got tissues from the box on the table beside him and made me blow my nose until there was nothing left. I was then directed to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face before I came back out so we could call the kids.
“How did you keep your phone?” I asked, seeing it on the table beside the plastic cup with the straw in it, the pitcher of water, and the box of tissues.
“That’s why I got the iPhone mini, so I could put it in my sock.”
“Of course you did.”
“You should always be prepared.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Let’s call the kids.”
“I can call the kids. You need to go to sleep. Your body needs to recover.”
“I’ll start recovering in a minute. First, I need to call the kids.”
“Dr. Chen wants you to stay in the hospital for seven days.”
He scoffed.
“Five.”
Second one.
“Sam, you need to recover.”
“Do you know, when I was in combat, I got shot in my side, same kinda thing, through and through, and I was back on patrol two days later?”
“You’re not in combat anymore, and you’re not twenty-two anymore.”
“Twenty-one,” he corrected me. “And again, it went right through me, didn’t hit anything vital, and yeah, I get that I need to stay here a couple days, but ten? Or seven? Seriously? If the point is for me to rest and sleep, then this ain’t the place to do that.”