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“You let someone hurt my wife,” says Everett in a husky, choked voice.
I’ve never heard a sentence so aggressively romantic. I’m done, I am hopelessly in love forever. This man, my guy.
“I’m okay,” I say, holding my hands out for everyone to calm down. “It all went okay. We’re back and we’ll live and I don’t even need surgery or a hospital stay.”
He looks down at me and I raise an eyebrow at him, a subtle reminder that what I watched him go through was a lot worse than a few marks on my neck and a sore throat. He gives me a quick kiss of reassurance and I follow it up with one of my own, a reminder that we both just made it through situations that scared the other person.
“We did it. It’s over,” I remind him.
“Look, I messed up and I’m sorry for the mix-up, everyone,” Ainsley says, quietly. “Truly, things would have gone a lot smoother if I hadn’t done that.”
I squeeze Everett’s hand, gentle at first, then harder the second time.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “It could have been worse.”
“And I forgive you for your blind rage fueled by undying love. Laina, you did great. I’m going to find a spare room here and grab some sleep.”
“We need to go in to Milenna tomorrow,” I say quickly before she leaves. “All of us.”
“We’ll talk about it,” says Everett.
“We’ll talk about it,” I repeat, giving him a look that says I’m not going to change my mind.
“Okay, goodnight,” says Ainsley with a wave.
Once it’s just the two of us, Everett, cups my cheek in his hand. “How are you?”
There’s still so much going on inside my head that I have to process. I can’t stay still, can’t sit down yet.
“Come with me?”
Everett follows me to the bathroom that connects to my room. He leans back against the counter in front of one sink while I turn on the faucet on the other sink. I splash freezing water on my face and blindly reach for my face wash. Everett places it in my hand.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks as I lather up my face.
“I’m so freaking mad,” I admit through my hands.
I’m processing the events in slow motion. I’ve never had anybody lay their hands on me that way. I’ve always been protected from that, a privilege of my life circumstances. I never had any fear of violence in my life.
But the victims of the Vidovic Group, they’re real people who have had to live with that every day as their reality. So, if I helped them in any way, I’m glad that I went through with the mission. Even if it wasn’t what I thought it would be. Even if I didn’t get what I truly wanted.
This is the most hollow victory I’ve ever experienced.
I wash the suds off my face as the tears start to fall. I sniffle and realize there are no big sobs or wails, just the steady, quiet grief of continued loss. I don’t know why I’m trying to disguise it from Everett. But I feel silly for having hoped for something that would never happen. I grab a hand towel off the counter and bury my face in it.
“There was a guy there, with the helicopter,” I say, muffled. “I asked him to see what your dad put in the dossier. But he said no.”
I wipe my tears on the towel and set it down, sniffling one last time. I look over at Everett. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s trying not to cry.
“And he said my dad-” Maybe I was wrong about no big sobs. I hiccup one away. “He was so insensitive. He just said, ‘Henry Milenna is dead to you.’ And I was so shocked and angry and-” I stop talking and brush at my cheeks.
Everett comes closer and pulls me into his good shoulder.
“I thought he would come back. I miss my dad, I thought he would come back,” I explain, crying into his chest.
“Oh, Laina love,” Everett whispers, holding me as I sob.
I can’t believe my own dad would know that he would see me one last time in his life and he would barely even hug me. I should have begged him harder, held on to him longer, let him see how weak and scared I can be. If I would have handled it better, been more honest and vulnerable with him, maybe he would have tried to find another way. But he knew what he was doing, and he let me believe what I wanted.
