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I hear the reporter say, “This just in. The Army bomb squad has ruled out the threat of a bomb. It’s unclear exactly what is in the can, but I repeat, the threat of a bomb on the Golden Gate Bridge no longer exists. Travel across the bridge will reopen shortly.”
I collapse on the couch, feeling like I can finally breathe normally.
No bomb.
The live broadcast ends and I no longer have the minute by minute view of Zane’s team working on the bridge.
I look out the window, knowing he’s out there somewhere, still on the bridge, still risking his life.
I can’t stand the tension, the waiting, the anxiety. I have to do something. I leave the TV on, in case any new updates are broadcast.
Then I sit at my piano and I play my heart out. I transfer all of my stress into hitting the keys with much more force than necessary. Forte all the way.
And I wait. And wait. And wait.
chapter twenty-two
~
I FEEL ZANE’Slips on mine. His soft, sweet kiss. It feels so real. I want it to be real. Am I dreaming?Wake up, Mila.
“Wake up, Mila.”
It’s Zane’s voice. He’s here, he’s home.
I open my eyes and see him hovering above me. He kisses me again. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
A weird sound escapes my throat, half squeal, half croak. I throw my arms around him, making him lose his balance and fall onto me. “You’re back.”
I kiss his cheeks, his chin, his nose, his forehead, his lips, his neck, whatever part of him I can reach in my frenzy. I repeat, “You’re back,” over and over in between kisses.
He goes with it, kissing me back when he can. When I finally calm down, he mumbles, “I’m gonna leave more often.”
I hold his head in my hands, I touch his shoulders, his back, his arms. “Are you okay? All in one piece?”
He grabs my hands, putting an end to my exploration, and holds them on either side of my head. “Hey, calm down. I’m fine.”
He kisses me like he did last night, a deep, penetrating kiss. A little wild, a bit out of control. A kiss that makes me feel like I have been kissed. And thoroughly.
He takes his time, in no hurry for our embrace to end. My hands ache to hold him, but I’m trapped, at his mercy—exactly where I want to be. I relax in his arms and enjoy the feeling of being loved by Zane.
He stops before things get out of hand. He lifts himself up and pulls me up with him. He’s still dressed in his uniform and he looks beat.
But he’s alive and perfect.
Holding my hands, he says, “Look at you. Fully dressed and crashed on the couch. Please tell me you didn’t stay up all night.”
“I did. I couldn’t sleep. I had to know you were okay.”
He pulls me into his arms and hugs me close. “I’m okay. Everything’s okay. This is my job. You can’t worry like this every time I get a call. You won’t survive it.”
“I know, I know. This one hit very close to home.”
He holds me in his arms, gently rocking back and forth. I could stay here all day. I don’t know how long he holds me, but it’s a long time. So perfect. He smells like the ocean, salty and fresh.
It comes to an end when Zane backs up and holds my face in his hands. “Okay now?”
I nod and we sit on the couch holding hands. “Tell me what happened. Every detail.”
