“Darling!” Frances noticed her first. She pulled Sam into a tight hug. “I texted you earlier that Alex is going to be fine. Why are you so pale?”
“Where is he?”
“Room 607, about five doors down on the right.” She moved her hands to Sam’s cheeks, forcing her to focus. “He’s fine, Sam. Breathe.”
Sam let out the breath she’d been holding and offered a small, flat smile. “Forgot about that.”
“It helps, dear. Now go see Alex.” She turned to Laura. “Thanks for waiting for her, Laura.”
Sam turned back, startled. “Wait—you know each other? How?”
No one spoke, but Frances nodded.
“Then . . . have you met Mr. Knightley? Is he with Alex?”
Frances paused and glanced at her husband. “He’s in there too.”
Sam didn’t hear another word as she walked away. The hall tunneled before her eyes, its edges blurring.It doesn’t matter that they’ve met. It changes nothing. She reminded herself of all she’d laid down and how far she’d come.Stay focused.
She stopped outside Room 607. Now was the time for courage and conviction—not fear. She rounded the corner, and tears sprang to her eyes. Alex lay in a hospital bed, attached to more tubes and monitors than she could count. He was propped up on pillows, with purple and blue bruises across his face, pain etched in his eyes, and deeper lines across and around his mouth than she remembered. But he was awake—awake and staring straight at her.
“You’re here.” He smiled and grimaced with the effort.
Sam hesitated and looked around the room. “You’re alone?”
“I am.”
“But Mom said Mr. Knightley was in here.”
“I know.”
“Know what? You know him?”
Alex scooted over in his bed, stifling a wince, and patted the empty spot next to him. “Come sit, Sam.” He held out his hand.
Sam looked around the room, perplexed. “Alex?”
“I’m so sorry. I’m scared.”
“Why? Why are you scared?” Her heart shifted and broke the tiniest bit. Alex’s feelings meant more than her fears. Wasn’t that what this journey was about? She sat gently and reached over to brush a tear from the corner of his eye.
“I never meant to hurt you.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“You didn’t. I hurt you.”
Alex closed his eyes. “No, you didn’t. I always knew. You unfolded your heart in every letter . . .” He hesitated. “Every letter to me.”
“To . . . you?”
“Forgive me . . . ,” Alex whispered. He opened his eyes and stared at her with such longing that for a moment Sam lost herself in the confusion. Only for a heartbeat—
“You?” She recoiled, and before she knew it she was across the room. The hit came to her heart, not her head—it couldn’t be true.
“Sam, come back.”
She swiped at her eyes. “This whole time? Mr. Knightley?” The truth settled, full of details and emotions—full of the letters she had written.
“Alex?” Her voice broke, and the tears started.
