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“You know I’d walk through fire for you. Always have, always would. Stephen would, too. He’s going to make it. I know he will, so don’t worry too hard about that. It would piss him off to know he worried you. I’ll get everything taken care of, and I’ll take your girl to the hotel. Easy.” Roy put out his hand. “Come on, Bridget. Let’s get you somewhere to clean up. Afterward, you can get some rest while we wait for Michael.”
I doubted I would rest. Maybe ever again.
The shower rinsed the filth away, but I continued to stand under the spray long after it was necessary. The door to the hotel room opened and closed. Michael, I hoped. Or someone else coming to kill me. Although I doubted I would face more double agents. Tito betrayed Michael, but I had a hard time believing others would. They loved him.
The bathroom door flung open then Michael was under the spray with me. He stripped in the water, despite being wet, and threw the clothes aside. I was quickly pressed up against the wall. I should’ve reminded him about his shoulder, but right then I couldn’t think. I could only feel.
He lifted me up and pushed himself inside of me fast. My legs curled around him, gripping him, pulling him closer as if I could drag myself into him and hide.
“You’re okay.” He said it over and over again. He kept saying it when his hips started to shift, then bump…and whispered it again as he fucked me against the wall of that shower. It was as though he had to remind himself with each thrust, or he pushed the words inside me with his length. I felt more than okay, but as pleasure built, I also wasn’t. Tears streamed out of my eyes, and I sobbed even as I bucked into him. He kissed the tears away, the spray coating both of us in warm water as he continued his litany. “You’re okay.”
Finally, I came around him on a long sigh, but he wasn’t nearly done. Minutes passed before he finished, his fingertips gripping into my hips as he cried out a primal roar. I loved being that close to him, despite knowing I wouldn’t be able to come again. As his body trembled with the last echoes of his orgasm, we held each other against the wall as the water beat down on us.
“You had to kill him,” he whispered.
That was true. I sniffled a little anyway. “I did.”
He continued, his slow steady voice like a rock I could cling to in the storm of my guilt. “It’s going to haunt you, and I’m so sorry for that. You’re not meant for killing. But I need you to remember—he was going to kill you. You did exactly the right thing. This will never see the police, this will never be in front of a judge, but no one would convict you. This is the literal definition of self-defense.”
I sniffled again, but I lifted my chin with sass. “I don’t care. Right now, I don’t care that I killed him, Michael. Does that make me a sociopath? Can you finally see how much like my father I really am?”
“I can see very clearly…that you’re in shock. Sociopaths don’t wonder whether or not they’re sociopaths. Again, it’s against theliteral definition.” He kissed me again, a punctuation for the tease in his tone. “I’m going to wrap you in the scratchy sheets, and then I’m going to watch you sleep for a while, Bridget. Then I’m going to leave you, because I need to sit in the hospital near Stephen. That’s what I do when people I care about are in the hospital. I won’t be gone long, and Roy will come back and sit outside your door.”
I stroked my hands over his face. “Thank you for killing the Russians. It was really something to watch you in action.”
“I wish you hadn’t, but it wasn’t the worst thing you had to see today.” He kissed me again and again. “Oh, Bridget. Thank you for being okay. Thank you.”
As promised, we dried off then he wrapped me in scratchy motel sheets. “I don’t have any other clothes.”
“I’ll get you something. It’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”
I sat up. “Michael, I should go with you to the hospital.”
“No, you should sleep. You should let some of this adrenaline go. Tomorrow, you can give all of this to me. I’m still too raw right now but tomorrow you can. I’ll take it. It’ll be my burden, not yours.”
I opened my arms and he crawled into them. He whispered, “I’m going to hold you until you fall asleep, and then for a while after that. Just rest.”
I didn’t think I could sleep, but my eyes closed when he drew me close. Magically, though, he could make even the worst days go away, just by holding me safe in his arms.
When I woke up later, the sun shone through the window, glinting off dust motes like glitter. A neat pile of clothes waited for me near the window, so I rose and stretched. Finding brewed coffee in the pot surprised me, and it spoke to how out of it I had been—I always woke if I caught a whiff of fresh coffee.
I headed into the bathroom to find Michael thought of more of my needs than I would’ve remembered. After brushing my hair with the brush waiting on the bathroom sink, I also cleaned my teeth and washed my face. My reflection still gave death warmed over, but at least I smelled fine. My guess was Roy waited in the hall, and I was right. “I’m sorry you have to spend so much time sitting outside of rooms waiting for me.”
He shook his head and handed me a bag. “Bagel. Cream cheese. Did you drink coffee? I know he made some already.”
“No. My stomach cannot do caffeine right now, but thanks for the reminder, though.”
He nodded. “Let’s head to the hospital, unless you want to go back to the house. I am supposed to offer you that, too, but I think we both know you’re not leaving.”
He was right about that.
Hospital time moved fast and slow, especially in waiting rooms. I sank in and out of seats next to Michael. Sometimes I needed to stretch; sometimes he did. Sometimes I paced, and sometimes he did. In the end, Roy cried when Stephen woke up. Michael turned away, so I couldn’t tell if he did.
Stephen faced a long road to recovery, but he was going to be okay. No dying, as promised. I walked over to his bed, and he reached his hand toward me. “Thank you, Bridget. I was supposed to save you, but you saved me.” He barely whispered the words, and I leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
I didn’t know what would’ve happened if he’d died, and I was glad not to know.
We left the next day, when Stephen’s mother arrived. Apparently, Stephen and Michael had an agreement. Michael never called her to the hospital unless it was clear Stephen would live. It was important to Stephen that his parents not sit in a waiting room only to learn he’d died. He would prefer Michael tell her after he’d passed, somewhere closer to home, whereshe’d have support. His father, too, because the waiting room would be terrible for his heart. That was the deal. I told Michael about Cheryl but I didn’t know if he called her or if he was going to leave that to Stephen.
