stepfather beaten Margery to death, he was running a heroin ring in DC. That brought her onto my radar again and, as a friend of the family, I called in some favors to protect her. Since both her parents were dead, and the ring swore retaliation, we put her in Witness Protection. The official story was that she died.”
“But she didn’t.”
“Um. No. She didn’t. She’s alive and well and recuperating down the hall from taking a bullet for your ass.”
“I didn’t ask her to leap in front of me!” God, his heart had nearly stopped when she had. It had hurt more than the bullet that had plowed through her and lodged itself in him.
Jon glanced at Grey. “She had her mission. Just like you had yours. She’d rather die than fail.”
Fuck. He couldn’t bear that. Just couldn’t.
“I need to see her.”
“You’ll have to wait.”
“Why?” His soul wailed.
It prickled that neither Jon nor Grey would make eye contact.
“Why?”
“Because she’s in ICU.”
Shit.
“I need to see her.”
“Well, you can’t. Not until the doctors are sure she’ll pull through.”
Athena set her hand on his. Her voice was soft as she skewered him with the most painful words he’d ever heard. “She’s critical, Matt. We don’t even know if she’ll wake up.”
And there it was. His worst fears, realized.
He’d found Sam again.
After years of aching and wanting and howling for her, an eternity of darkness, he’d found her again.
But had the miracle come too late?
Sam awoke in a fog with everything hurting, especially her chest. She glanced down, beneath the hospital gown, to see her left shoulder was tightly wrapped. She closed her eyes—it was a lot of effort to keep them open—and recalled the showdown with Cooper. Questions swirled in her mind—was Matt okay? Had they killed Cooper? Was that discomfort down there really a catheter?—but there were no answers. None that were satisfying at least.
She shifted a little to ease the soreness in her back and her leg nudged something hard and heavy lying on top of the covers. She peered at it and her pulse jerked as she recognized Matt’s journal.
She glanced around. She was alone in her room. Everything was silent in the night except for the beeps of the machines by her bed.
Without debating if it was right or wrong to read his personal journal—because she didn’t care—she reached down and picked it up. She clung to it for a moment, this piece of him, and then slowly, she opened it and read the first lines.
January 1, 2016.
Dear Sam—
Her heart lurched.
He’d been writing a letter in this journal.
A letter to a girl named Sam.
Not to a wife or a girlfriend.
Her.
Fascinated, she resettled and began to read.
It’s New Year’s Day. Another one. Without you. Hard to believe this is the tenth.
Ten long years since I saw you.
I still think of you every day and wonder what life would have been like if we hadn’t been separated. If you weren’t gone.
I don’t have those dark thoughts I used to have. You should be happy to hear that. I like my job and the guys around me are tolerable and sometimes even amusing. My boss is a great man, and it’s an honor serving him. I feel like I have a purpose again.
They always say time heals all wounds. But that’s not true. Some wounds can’t be healed. We just have to learn to live with the pain.
I’m happy to say, I think I figured out how to do that. I guess I realized I had a choice. I could go on living in misery over something I could never fix, or adjust.
Consider me adjusted.
But I still dream of you at night. And ache for you.
I hope you are somewhere beautiful and sweet.
Love forever, Matt
With shaking hands, she flipped the page, and the next and the next. One for each day. Describing his day, his thoughts, his hopes, to her. Day, after day, after day.
“There are more.”
Her head snapped up to find him leaning against the doorjamb and watching her, so
“But she didn’t.”
“Um. No. She didn’t. She’s alive and well and recuperating down the hall from taking a bullet for your ass.”
“I didn’t ask her to leap in front of me!” God, his heart had nearly stopped when she had. It had hurt more than the bullet that had plowed through her and lodged itself in him.
Jon glanced at Grey. “She had her mission. Just like you had yours. She’d rather die than fail.”
Fuck. He couldn’t bear that. Just couldn’t.
“I need to see her.”
“You’ll have to wait.”
“Why?” His soul wailed.
It prickled that neither Jon nor Grey would make eye contact.
“Why?”
“Because she’s in ICU.”
Shit.
“I need to see her.”
“Well, you can’t. Not until the doctors are sure she’ll pull through.”
Athena set her hand on his. Her voice was soft as she skewered him with the most painful words he’d ever heard. “She’s critical, Matt. We don’t even know if she’ll wake up.”
And there it was. His worst fears, realized.
He’d found Sam again.
After years of aching and wanting and howling for her, an eternity of darkness, he’d found her again.
But had the miracle come too late?
Sam awoke in a fog with everything hurting, especially her chest. She glanced down, beneath the hospital gown, to see her left shoulder was tightly wrapped. She closed her eyes—it was a lot of effort to keep them open—and recalled the showdown with Cooper. Questions swirled in her mind—was Matt okay? Had they killed Cooper? Was that discomfort down there really a catheter?—but there were no answers. None that were satisfying at least.
She shifted a little to ease the soreness in her back and her leg nudged something hard and heavy lying on top of the covers. She peered at it and her pulse jerked as she recognized Matt’s journal.
She glanced around. She was alone in her room. Everything was silent in the night except for the beeps of the machines by her bed.
Without debating if it was right or wrong to read his personal journal—because she didn’t care—she reached down and picked it up. She clung to it for a moment, this piece of him, and then slowly, she opened it and read the first lines.
January 1, 2016.
Dear Sam—
Her heart lurched.
He’d been writing a letter in this journal.
A letter to a girl named Sam.
Not to a wife or a girlfriend.
Her.
Fascinated, she resettled and began to read.
It’s New Year’s Day. Another one. Without you. Hard to believe this is the tenth.
Ten long years since I saw you.
I still think of you every day and wonder what life would have been like if we hadn’t been separated. If you weren’t gone.
I don’t have those dark thoughts I used to have. You should be happy to hear that. I like my job and the guys around me are tolerable and sometimes even amusing. My boss is a great man, and it’s an honor serving him. I feel like I have a purpose again.
They always say time heals all wounds. But that’s not true. Some wounds can’t be healed. We just have to learn to live with the pain.
I’m happy to say, I think I figured out how to do that. I guess I realized I had a choice. I could go on living in misery over something I could never fix, or adjust.
Consider me adjusted.
But I still dream of you at night. And ache for you.
I hope you are somewhere beautiful and sweet.
Love forever, Matt
With shaking hands, she flipped the page, and the next and the next. One for each day. Describing his day, his thoughts, his hopes, to her. Day, after day, after day.
“There are more.”
Her head snapped up to find him leaning against the doorjamb and watching her, so
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