Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“I promise. But you’re going to be around to do it yourself. And she is going to kick your ass over this.”
I smiled as I drifted away. I would let her.
I woke up slowly, my body one massive ache. I let myself assess my injuries before I opened my eyes. My shoulder and chest burned with the fire of a thousand suns. My arm wasn’t far behind it. My face felt swollen, and the rest of me felt as if a Mack truck had run over me a few times.
Images, fractured and disjointed, ran through my head. The rain, the dark building, running, gunshots. Dean towering over me. Damien taking him out. Fading away.
Other memories filtered through. Soft hands, a gentle voice, my name being sobbed.
Tally.
My eyes flew open, the room coming into focus. She was standing to the side, staring out the window, her arms wrapped around her waist. I spoke her name, the word raspy and low. She turned, our eyes meeting. She looked exhausted and worn. Defeated and sad. I held out my hand, shocked to see how it shook. She slipped her hand into mine, holding it loosely.
“Am I dreaming?”
“No.”
“Where am I?”
“Toronto General.”
“How?”
“Once you were stabilized, you were airlifted here.”
I swallowed, my throat dry. “How much—”
She cut me off. “I know everything. Damien told me.”
I shut my eyes at the blatant hurt and anger in her voice.
“Not his place,” I objected.
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “We didn’t know if you would make it. I needed to understand why you were so injured. What the hell you’d been doing. Exactly what you’d been hiding from me.” Her eyes flashed. “I should have heard it from you.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Me, or yourself?” she shot back.
I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Damien wanted me to know how many people you helped save. How you always put Hidden Justice first. That you were highly regarded by your men and the organization.” A sob caught in her throat. “And how determined you were to make sure I was safe from the terrible person my brother had become. Damien wanted me to know who you really were—that the man I married was more than I knew.” She shook her head. “It should have been you telling me, Julian. You should have given me the choice if you went after Dean or not.”
Her voice caught. “All the times you walked out the door without saying you loved me. The conversations you avoided. The distance I felt between us. I thought you regretted marrying me.”
“No,” I rasped. “I was trying to make you safe. I was so wrapped up in my head, Tally. I kept thinking you’d understand when I told you. I didn’t mean to make you think—” I swallowed. “I never thought—”
The doctor walked in, and she moved away, letting go of my hand. I felt the loss of her touch immediately. I had a feeling it would be a while until I felt it again.
For two days, I was in and out. When I woke, Tally was there, an ever-present shadow. She rarely spoke, her touches only given to help, never to bridge the gap I felt between us. On the third day, I was more alert, the fog disappearing. The doctor declared me on the road to recovery.
“We’ll keep you another few days, then send you home to heal.”
Tally helped me to shower and change into fresh clothing. Made sure I ate. Smiled at Damien, Egan, all the men who came to see me. Sat quietly, making sure I didn’t overdo it. Yet barely a word passed her lips, and each moment, she looked more exhausted, and I felt her slip further away from me.
At the end of the day, she helped me settle, and I noticed her purse on the chair.
“Going somewhere?” I asked, my voice tight.
“I need a change of clothes and some sleep,” she said.
“Are you coming back?”
She stared at me, silent, and I reached for her hand. “Forgive me. Give me a chance to explain, Tally. We can work this out.”
She bent, cupping my face, our eyes locked. I saw the worry and hurt. The hidden fear deep in her eyes. She kissed me, her mouth moving with mine. I kissed her back, the feel of her lips on mine both perfect and wrong at the same time. I gripped her arms, keeping her close. Sadness welled at the feeling of losing something that was slipping away. Losing her. I kept kissing her.
I tasted her pain and anger. Her desperation. She pulled away, staring down at me, still silent. She picked up her purse and left.
It wasn’t until later when I was alone, I realized I had tasted her goodbye.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tally
I shifted in the uncomfortable seat in the airport, uneasy and tense. I looked up at the departure board, but the status of the flight I was waiting on remained unchanged. I heard the mutterings of other passengers—mechanical issues, a problem on the runway, all various thoughts on why our flight was delayed.