“Hi,” he says. “Can I help you?”
My mouth goes dry. “Are you Alonzo?”
He nods once. “Yeah. That’s me.”
“My name is Brooke.”
“Oh my God,” he murmurs under his breath.
My throat tightens. “I’m sorry to show up like this. I didn’t know how else to do it.”
His eyes sharpen.
“I wanted to tell you,” I say quickly, the word tumbling out before I can stop it. “about your husband Miles.”
The rest comes rushing out with it.
“We were taken to this manor with other people. They were hunting us. It was…” My voice catches, but I force myself to keep going. “It was horrible.”
Alonzo stares at me, trying to piece together what I’m saying.
“We were held there,” I continue. “Miles saved me more than once. He kept me alive when I shouldn’t have been.”
He lifts a hand slightly, like he wants to interrupt, but the words are already spilling out.
“I saw him get shot.”
His face tightens, but I keep going because stopping now feels impossible.
“He died trying to help me escape,” my voice cracks. “Everything was chaos. People were dying and I—”
“Wait—,” he interjects.
My hands shake, so I lace them together.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I just needed you to know he wasn’t alone. He fought. He mattered. He—”
“Brooke?”
The voice comes from behind him.
My entire body freezes.
Alonzo turns his head slowly, and his expression changes in a way that finally makes sense.
Miles is there in a wheelchair.
Alive.
He’s behind Alonzo in the hallway, hands resting on the wheels like he pushed himself closer the second he heard my name. The same man that survived with me in that manor, the same man that told me to keep breathing when I wanted to give up.
My knees go weak.
Miles looks at me like he can’t decide if I’m real. “Oh my god, Brooke. You’re alive!”
I can’t get air into my lungs. My mouth opens and nothing comes out at first.
“Miles,” I finally manage, and it sounds like a question because my brain can’t accept it as fact.
