“Good.”
He waited for me to speak, but all I gave in return was paralyzed silence. Hearing him again emptied the thoughts from my brain.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked softly.
I pushed out a breath. Taking risks, living dangerously, it reminded me I was alive. I wanted to take this risk. “I’m sorry about how I acted, Ethan. I don’t like how we left it.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Me either.”
It fell quiet again.
“What are we going to do about it?” It was meant to be teasing but came out completely serious.
He paused. “I’m sure I can figure something out.”
I fell back on the bed, the phone pressed to my ear, relieved he didn’t seem to hold a grudge. He’d come after me, attempted rescue, and called in a strike team. Shawn made it sound like doing that had been detrimental to his career.
And I hadn’t said thank you. Not even given him a goodbye when he’d left. I’d been terrible.
“Where are you, Detroit?”
“Uh, no.” He didn’t know I was in D.C.? “Are you still in the States?”
God, I hoped we were still on the same continent.
“Yeah. I have a delightful psych eval at seven tomorrow morning.” He paused. “It’s a standard protocol thing.” He’d tacked that on like he worried I might think something was wrong with him.
“I’m a pilot, so I’m familiar with those.” Talking about feelings and behavior while a stranger stared at you, giving you absolutely no feedback, ranked close to Vitale’s office or the mountain. “How long are you going to be sticking around?”
“If I’m cleared tomorrow, they’ll authorize me to go back after the holidays.”
My heart fell out of rhythm. “Back to Europe?”
“Yeah.” There was a sound as he let out a deep breath. “I’ll be stepping back from operations for a while. My last few ops didn’t go so well. I’ll be assisting from a field office until further notice.”
“You’re okay with that?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I asked for it. This ‘being someoneelse’ bullshit, it gets old.”
A smile tugged at my lips. “So, you’ll just be Ethan. The freakishly tall guy from Kentucky, with the Croatian mother and the father who builds custom homes on some river.”
“The Ohio River Valley,” he corrected, “not necessarily on the river.”
“Whatever.”
“You know an awful lot about me,” he said, his voice warm.
“I’m betting I haven’t even scratched the surface.”
There was a pause, as if he were carefully considering his next statement. “But youwantto.”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation from me.
“I’m glad you called. Maybe don’t make me wait six damn days next time.”
I closed my eyes, so glad to hear his voice. “I’m sorry.” I’d never been more sincere.
“So, you’re not in Detroit. Where are you?”
