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I squeezed her hand back.
“He will,” I whispered.
Surgery took a long time. Too long for me to sit stationary next to Evie. Ranger and Lizzie took over, both giving me firm embraces and soft looks.
I took to wandering around the sterile halls.
I hated hospitals.
You could smell the death, lurking around the corners, waiting to snatch someone up.
And you also ran into police officers with no chance of escape.
His form jolted the second he laid eyes on me, still at the other end of the long hall.
My eyes darted at either side of me, and I almost laughed out loud at the door that signified my salvation.
Chapel.
I didn’t hesitate to slip inside, hoping that Luke’s cop business would be more important to him than chasing me.
No, I didn’t hope that. I hoped for the opposite.
I knew better.
So I sat on a pew in the small room, staring at Jesus.
The door behind me opened and closed, the harsh footfalls of boots on hardwood signifying his arrival.
I jerked with surprise when he sat next to me. Right next to me.
I didn’t look at him, my eyes still focused on Jesus.
“You runnin’ from me, Rosie?” Luke asked softly.
“No,” I lied. “I came here to….”
“Pray?” he finished for me in a disbelieving tone.
I darted my gaze to him. “I could be. You don’t know.”
He rose his brow. “Know you’re smart. Too smart to believe in this shit.”
I gaped at him. “You don’t believe?”
He shook his head. “Fuck no.”
“But… you go to church every Sunday.” I didn’t realize I’d disclosed that stalker detail until it was too late.
Luke didn’t acknowledge it. “Dad’s the sheriff. I’m the dutiful son.” He shrugged. “It’s habit.”
I stared at him, then laughed.
“What?”
“It’s just I think that’s the only time Luke Crawford has done something as rebellious as not believe in God.”
He quirked his mouth.
My chuckle died away. “You seriously don’t believe?” I asked soberly.
“Seriously. And you do? After everything you’ve seen? Went through? You think there’s someone cruel enough to let you go through that?”
I jerked at the softness of his voice, the tenderness in it. “Maybe not exactly him.” I nodded to the man on the cross. “But something. I’ve got to believe there’s something more to this. That there’s some kind of method in the madness.”
“You’re looking for a method in the madness? You live for madness.”
I hid my response to his perception of me. “On the surface, maybe. But there’s only so much chaos even I can welcome. I need to know that there’s something more so I can live in the chaos, you know? I don’t know if I could keep on keeping on if I thought there was nothing. If we’re all just here on a chunk of rock by chance.”
Luke tilted his head. “I don’t think it’s chance.”
I trapped myself in his stare. “I know it’s not. And I need miracles, need to believe in them. I got shown one today, when I heard my niece was born with ten fingers and ten toes and beautiful green eyes,” I whispered. “And I’m holding out for another one.”
Luke squeezed my hand.
I was so surprised at the touch, and how my whole body relaxed into it. How the simple gesture made me feel safe.
“Didn’t believe in miracles,” he murmured. “Not till I saw one right in front of me. Not until I was lookin’ at the miracle right now. So I’m thinkin’ you’ve still got a few.” He paused, like he hadn’t just sucker-punched me in the chest. “He’s gonna be okay, Rosie.”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
And then we sat there, holding hands and staring at the guy who was staring woodenly back at as. I found support and strength in that chapel. Enough to get me through the worst of it and then some. Until Steg woke up cursing at nurses and demanding a cigarette.
I didn’t find salvation. No, because I loved Luke then. More than ever. That conversation, that small touch, the sitting there for hours wordlessly, that was enough to hold onto. To pretend that something on his side existed too.
A sliver of hope that the man I loved irrevocably might just love me too.
That wasn’t salvation.
That was damnation.
Luke
Present Day
Luke followed her.
He knew he fucking shouldn’t. But what else was he meant to do? Where else was he supposed to go? When she disappeared, dropped off the face of the earth, it was like his center of gravity drifted away along with her. So he was plunged into free fall. She ripped the paper fucking background of his life away and left him to deal with the emptiness.
He was fucking furious with her for that.
He was even more furious with himself.
For letting her leave. For being such a dumb fuck for half his life.
He knew what everyone thought about him. His job had been to know things. Maybe it still was now. But his job was to know things and not tell anyone but the person who was signing his paycheck, not using those things to lock people away. Using them as ammunition against those who broke the law.
