So I gave him the one signal his body had known before memory.
Two soft whistles.
One longer.
His eyelids lowered.
Then lifted.
Recognition flickered behind his eyes.
His mouth opened.
“You came.”
Air left my lungs in a sob.
“Yes.”
His fingers closed weakly around mine.
“Cal.”
I bent over our joined hands and cried.
Chapter 35
REID
Noah remained in observation overnight.
By midnight, he could answer his name, the month, and the city.
He could not remember the name of the hospital.
He remembered Diane.
That was the memory I would have chosen to erase.
“She left?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Did I…”
His face tightened with concentration.
“Break something.”
“A mug.”
“Did I hurt her?”
“No.”
“Wanted to.”
“I know.”
