Val smiled and nodded up once. I looked over, seeing Thomas sleeping soundly. The rails had been lowered, and our hospital beds had been pushed together. Thomas’s hand was covering mine.
“He had to pull some serious strings to make this happen,” Val said. “Are you okay?”
I smiled at Val, but her face had darkened with worry.
“I don’t know yet,” I said, wincing.
Val picked up the call button and pressed it.
“How can I help you?” a nasally voice said.
The volume had been turned down so low that I could barely hear it.
Val raised the plastic remote closer to her mouth, so she could whisper, “She’s awake.”
“I’ll let her nurse know.”
Val gently patted my knee. “Stephanie will be in with your pain meds soon. She’s been awesome. I think she’s in love with Thomas.”
“Isn’t everyone?” Sawyer said from a dark corner.
“Hey, Charlie,” I said, using the remote to sit up a bit.
He and Marks were sitting on opposite sides of the room.
Sawyer frowned. “You’ve already died once in the last twenty-four hours. Don’t make me kill you again.”
I giggled and then held my breath. “Damn, that hurts. I can’t imagine what two feels like. Thomas probably won’t be able to move when he wakes up.” I looked over at him and squeezed his hand.
He blinked.
“Morning, sunshine,” Marks said.
Thomas immediately looked to his left. His features softened, and a tired wide grin formed. “Hey.” He pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. He relaxed his cheek against the pillow.
“Hey.”
“Thought I’d lost you.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Nah.”
Sawyer stood. “I’m going to head out. Glad you’re both all right. See you at work.” He walked over to me, kissed my hair, and then strolled out.
“Bye,” I said.
Val smiled. “He promised to sign the papers.”
“He did?” I asked, surprised.
Marks snorted. “On the condition that he keeps the condo.”
I looked to Val.
She shrugged. “I hope you were serious when you said you wanted a roommate.”
“It’s only temporary anyway,” Marks said. “I’m going to talk her into moving in with me.”
“Fuck off,” she snapped. She smiled down at me. “You just worry about getting well. I’ll take care of everything. It’s perfect timing anyway. You’ll need someone to help you cook and clean.”
Marks looked at Thomas. “You’re shit out of luck, buddy.”
“Can I move in, too?” Thomas teased. He held his breath while he shifted to get comfortable.
Val motioned to Marks. “We should go. Let them rest.”
Marks nodded, standing and patting Thomas’s foot rail. “Hang in there, brother. We’ll hold down the fort.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Thomas said.
Marks held out his hand to Val, she took it, and they walked into the hallway together.
“What about Grove?” I asked Thomas. “Any updates?”
He nodded. “Marks said they’re taking care of it, keeping it along the same lines—a mugging gone wrong.”
“What about the witnesses?”
“It’s taken care of. Benny has no clue that Travis will be knocking on his door soon, and Tarou will just think he’s lost his infiltration. The investigation can go on as planned.”
I nodded. Thomas rubbed my thumb with his, and I looked down at our hands.
“I hope this is okay,” he said.
“It’s better than okay.”
“You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Matching scars.”
A wide grin stretched across my face.
Thomas held my hand against his cheek and then kissed my wrist. Slowly lowering our hands to the mattress, he settled in, relaxing, as he made sure he could see me until he fell asleep.
Thomas needed me. He made me happy and made me crazy, and he was right: only together did we make sense. I refused to ruminate on what would happen next, to analyze the probability or logistics of a successful relationship, to try to control whether I felt too much. I’d finally found the kind of love that was worth risking a broken heart.
We’d had to find each other to finally understand that love could not be controlled. Predictions, assumptions, and absolutes were illusions. My love for him was volatile, uncontrollable, and overpowering, but…that was love. Love was real.
Epilogue
EVEN THOUGH YEARS HAD PASSED since the last time I had half-unpacked boxes lying in every room, the organized chaos still made me smile. Memories of moving into my first condo in San Diego—even the first volatile months—were good ones, and they had carried me through the stress of training in my job as the newest Intelligence Analyst at the NCAVC in Quantico.
Just six months before, I had applied for my dream job. Three months later, I had been transferred. Now, I was wearing a robe and fuzzy socks, unpacking the sundresses I would be wearing if I were still in California. Instead, I had to promise myself not to adjust the thermostat—again—and I was sure to keep near the blazing fireplace in my bedroom.
I untied the belt of my robe, letting it fall open, and then lifted my heather-gray FBI hoodie, reaching down to feel the thick circular scar on my lower abdomen. The healed wound would always remind me of Thomas. It helped me to pretend he was close when he wasn’t. Our matching scars were a little like the feeling of being under the same sky—but better.
A car engine grew louder as it pulled into the drive, and headlights raced over the walls before extinguishing. I walked across the living room and peeked out the curtains next to the front door.
The neighborhood was quiet. The only traffic was the car in my drive. Nearly all the windows in the neighboring houses were dark. I loved the new house and the new community. A lot of young families lived on my street, and although the door experienced regular knocking and I’d seemed to be fielding daily requests for chocolate or cheese sales from the local school kids, I felt more at home than ever before.
A dark figure stepped out of the vehicle and grabbed a duffel bag. Then, the headlights came on again, and the car backed out and drove away. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my hoodie as the shadow of a man slowly walked toward my porch. He wasn’t supposed to be here yet. I wasn’t ready.