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I gave her a smile that I hoped portrayed everything I felt for her. “You could’ve stayed in Arkendale. You could’ve gone anywhere. But you didn’t. You stuck by me when I was sick in Virginia. And you came here to find me. I just wanted…” I lifted my shoulders, my hand hanging awkwardly in hers. “Thank you.”
Her chin trembled. “You saved me, Evie. Gave me the chance to love again. To start a family. You gave me life. A life made so much fuller with you in it.”
The backs of my eyes pricked. Fuck, now I was going to cry.
She drew a deep breath and patted my cheek. “No crying, remember?”
Then she gathered her composure and made a beeline for Michio. They’d only just met as we walked the tunnels down here, but when he learned she was the woman we’d cured in Georgia, a spark had momentarily returned to his eyes.
He leaned down as she whispered in his ear. His jaw hardened, and his gaze sliced to me. He turned and pointed down the hall, jogging his finger as he gave directions to the room where Elaine had done God knew what to him.
Shea vanished from view, and a moment later, the commotion of footsteps and voices crammed the hall. A group of battle-weary men gathered around Link and my guardians. I only recognized one face.
Hunter’s long black hair hung in his eyes, his arms wrapped around a huge duffel bag and my bow and quiver. “Link, where do I put this stuff?”
Link slipped into the bathroom and gestured for him to follow. “Leave it here.”
Hunter set the bag and bow on the floor and looked up at me, smiling. “Hey, Evie.”
I gave him a small wave, but Link was already ushering him out with a hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks, kid.”
Link waited for him to leave then turned back to me. “So.” He tipped his bald head, studying me. “You’re alive.”
“So are you.”
“I didn’t fall from a cliff.” He grinned, rubbing his jaw. “That prophecy is a real bitch, huh?”
He had no idea. I forced my hands to my sides, resisting the impulse to touch my belly. “Were the guts and glory of battle everything you hoped for?”
His black eyes sparkled under the glow of the ceiling lights as he sniffed the air with a dramatic stretch of his nostrils. “Smells like history in the making, Little Ladybird.” He nodded at the bag on the floor. “All your clothes and other belongings should be there.”
Wow, that was thoughtful and unexpected. There was something off about Link that would always make me uncomfortable, but beneath his disturbing demeanor, I wondered if his intentions weren’t completely vain. Link the Emasculator could very well be Link the Bighearted in disguise.
I bit my lip, hiding my smile. “Thank you.”
He headed toward the crowded hallway and paused at the door, passing me a glance over his shoulder. “I’m sending a couple men to Arkendale tonight. It’ll take them a month or longer to return, but I thought you’d want news of the peninsula’s progress.”
Another thank you tumbled from my lips, but he was already gone, striding down the corridor and barking orders.
I knelt beside the bag and opened the zipper. Jeans and t-shirts made up most of the bulk, but nestled on top were three things I thought I’d never see again. Roark’s rosary, Jesse’s turquoise stone, and the arm sheathes and blades Joel had given me. I stroked each with trembling fingers, the remembered textures and curves sending a warmth of love through my chest for the men who’d given them to me.
A pair of scuffed-up boots stepped beside me, followed by two more pairs and the thunk of another bag on the floor next to mine. The door shut, and the lock clicked.
Michio towered over me, his brown eyes dark with regret as he stared at the sheathes. “I’m so sor—”
“Don’t. The only thing you have to be sorry about is your guilt.” I climbed to my feet and shifted into his space, staring up at him. “No more apologies.”
Irritation drew lines across his gorgeous features. He speared his fingers through his hair, walked to the sink, and gripped the edge, bracing the rigid bend of his upper body on stick-straight arms.
I wanted to wrap him in a hug, shake him, and tell him to move on. But he wasn’t ready to let go of his feelings. He was probably still trying to wrap his head around exactly what he was feeling. He mourned hurting me even as he knew it hadn’t been him delivering the punches. I suspected he was also working through his acceptance of the child that would both end my life and save mankind.
Peace didn’t come without tragedy, and love didn’t bloom without pain. Irony and ambivalence were the layers of life. He would come to terms with this just like every other struggle we’d endured over the past two years. I just needed to be patient.
