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The person doesn’t move, and I can’t see anything except his feet. I imagine he’s looking around, noticing that someone’s disturbed the space, and I think about my exit strategy. If I can get a hold of a smaller tool, something sharp that I could swing, I may have a chance.
I’d need to knock him out because if that door is locked, I’ll need his hand or his key to get out.
And then go where?
Fuck Alex for doing this. My only hope is I can hide throughout this guy’s workday without being discovered.
“Rowan,” the voice cracks.
For a moment I’m sure it’s not real, but I pop up before I think better of it.
“Sam!” I scream.
His face comes into view, and I almost sob at the sight. He looks just the same as in my vision, except for his eyes. They’re filled with relief, and when we reach each other, he wraps his arms around me, lifting my feet from the ground.
“You’re okay!” He cries into my skin and I nod, holding him as tight as I’m able. The feel of his chest against mine, his smell, the way he holds me, it’s all the same.
“I’m okay,” I sob. “I’m fine. You — the boys — Morgan.”
He lets out a choked breath, pulls back, and takes my face in his hands. “Everyone’s okay,” he says. “I worried every day. I love you so fucking much.”
“We’re in this together,” I promise. “Always. Even when you can’t see me.”
His eyebrows draw together, and I know my choice of words confuses him, but he doesn’t ask.
“I see you now. My beautiful wife.” Our lips meet, and his kiss steals my breath. It’s deep and desperate, setting fire to my need for him that had been dormant for so long, making me moan as his mouth takes mine.
My hands run through his hair, bringing him closer, not letting him stop. His arms wrap around the back of my thigh and waist, lifting me until I wrap my legs around his middle. He sets me down on the workbench, crumpling the drawings underneath me.
“I missed you,” I gasp in between kisses. He pulls back, our noses touching and our heavy breaths in sync with one another.
“I’m so happy to see you,” he pauses, catching his breath. “And everyone is okay. We have living quarters and jobs. Kids seem to be doing fine with the school and daycare here. Boys are all together, so that’s good, but…”
“But?” I question and place my hands on his shoulders, scanning his worried face.
“Alex, the guy that brought you down, he said we can’t be together yet. BeLew aren’t happy. Morgan doesn’t know what’s going on, but she’s different,” Sam explains. “Distant… for a baby. That sounds crazy.”
“It doesn’t,” I tell him. “She’s spent so much time in a plastic box or being carted around. I hope we aren’t screwing her up.”
“Like the boys,” Sam jokes, but his smile doesn’t reach his troubled eyes.
“Right,” I laugh back. It’s the oddest moment of levity, trapped in a storage closet forty-two floors beneath the earth in the clutches of a cult. We take our blessings where we can, knowing the chances of making it this far were slim.
“We’re lucky that Alex took some pity on us,” Sam says.
“I know,” I sigh. “I need to be nicer to him.”
“Have you spoken with him much?” Sam asks.
I pause, unsure how to explain, and not in the mood to go through it all. Nothing I say changes our circumstances, and Sam doesn’t need another headache.
My fingers trace his stubbled jaw, thinking about how lucky I am to have a family despite everything. Today, everyone’s alive and healthy. I’ll worry about tomorrow later. His eyes narrow for a moment, but then he relaxes, something in him giving up the inquiry.
I lean back on the bench and look him over, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Tell the kids I’m with them and I see them. Say exactly that,” I tell Sam.
“Do you think that’s… a good idea?” he asks. “If they know I saw you, they’ll be so upset they didn’t. I don’t want to make things worse.”
“Tell them, but use those words. Say I am with them and I see them, and they’ll know what I mean,” I repeat.
