“That kind of trauma changes people,” he agreed.“I’m not going to pretend I understand.”
She lifted her chin.No, he would never understand.No one did.
“But what about love?What about someone to share your life with?Are you saying you don’t want that?Don’t need that?”he continued.
She snorted, a derisive noise meant to drive him away.“You sound like Bianca,” she accused.“And yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“You can’t mean it.”He took her hand, which was now dangling uselessly at her side, his warm touch a shock to her system.“I know my dating history is not the best example.”He gave a slight shrug.“But I guess a part of me always hoped that I’d find love eventually.It’s what every human being wants.Needs.Someone to care for them.Someone to share their life with.The ups and the downs.The good and the bad.Isn’t it?”
“Not me.”Summer had to force the words past a sudden lump in her throat.It took everything she had to drop his hand, push him away.“I know you mean well.And I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for all that you’ve done for me.For coming to find me, for saving me.”Her insides shook, as if an earthquake was erupting in her chest.She kept her chin up, ignoring the trembling inside as she stepped around him.“But I need to go home.I can’t stay here, and I can’t be with you.It just wouldn’t work, Mårten.”
She hadn’t known this would be the outcome tonight as she sat in the chair waiting for Mårten to finish talking to his supervisor and then the nurses.But now, it seemed inevitable.It was for the best, she decided as she carefully opened the door and stepped through it without once looking back.
“Summer, wait,” he called, but she was already walking down the hallway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A HINT OF a warm breeze blew in through the open window.It was unseasonably warm today in Seattle, and Summer’s small apartment was feeling claustrophobic.Unlike Mårten’s little cottage in the forest, which had felt airy and light, even in the heat of the middle of the day.She tried to push that thought from her mind, refocusing on the television, leaning forward and waving her cast in the air, urging Erin Jorganson to go faster.Natascha Sodoro was catching up to her, and although Summer didn’t have a preference—if she couldn’t be there to compete, then she didn’t care who won—Erin deserved to win this time.The women were on the last leg of the triathlon, and Erin had set a fast pace in the run.The camera zoomed out so that the image on the television was now an aerial shot of the runners strung out along the road.It looked damn hot, and all the competitors were sucking down electrolytes by the gallon.
Strangely, Summer wasn’t as miserable at not attending the triathlon meet as she thought she would be.She stared at the TV screen, unable to stay focused on the drama unfolding in Pontevedra.Perhaps that was because she’d been feeling numb ever since she’d boarded the plane out of Stockholm.
It was only two days since she’d returned home, but already she kept finding things she missed about Sweden.Sunshine through dappled birch leaves.Picking the little wild smultron berries and letting their sweetness burst on her tongue.So many birds singing in the trees that she could barely hear herself talk.The fact that the Swedish people venerated the summer months before they disappeared into the long winters.
She was flat and lethargic, could hardly raise the energy to get out of bed in the morning.It must be jet lag; that was the only logical explanation.Her wrist no longer ached non-stop.Now it was itchy and annoying, hindering just about everything she did.Summer had forced herself to go for a run yesterday afternoon, but her cast made her clumsy and unbalanced, and she turned around after only five very unsatisfactory miles.
She checked her watch.Bianca would be here soon.Her good friend had been ecstatic to hear that she was home safe and sound, as well as being back in time for Josie and Mark’s wedding this Saturday.Poor Bianca had picked up most of the slack for Summer’s bridesmaid duties, and she’d done it without complaint.But Summer could perceive the relief in her friend’s voice when she phoned this morning to let her know she’d returned and that she could take over.
She was finding it hard to get excited about the wedding but hoped Bianca’s arrival would lift her spirits.She was a little lost, that was all, yet on Swedish time, her mind still occupied by the surreal week and a half she’d spent with Mårten.All she needed was a bit of Bianca’s energy and vivacity to pick her up and set her back on the path to the reality of her life in Seattle.
The doorbell rang, and Summer levered herself off the couch with a sigh as she glanced around her messy apartment.It was unusual for Bianca to be this early, and she’d meant to tidy up a little and get dressed before her friend arrived.It was also unusual for Summer to still be in her pajamas at midday, but Bianca wouldn’t mind; Summer would just tell her it was the jet lag, and they’d laugh about it, and then she would get changed.
But it wasn’t Bianca standing on the landing when Summer opened the door.
It was Nikki.
“Oh, hi,” Summer stammered, very conscious that she hadn’t even brushed her hair yet.Blast, this was embarrassing.
“Sorry to arrive unannounced like this,” Nikki said, stepping into the apartment without waiting for an invitation.“Jacob told me you were home, and I wanted to come and see how you were.”She engulfed Summer in a hug, and for a second, she was so taken aback she remained stiff and unyielding.She’d forgotten how warm and demonstrative Nikki was.Forgotten how much she liked the woman.Summer returned the hug, squashing a sudden urge to cry.Why on earth would Nikki’s appearance make her want to cry?
“Oh, my, look at your poor face.”Nikki stepped back and studied Summer.“Jacob told me that bastard beat you up, but this is worse than I imagined.”“Does it hurt?”The compassion in the other woman’s blue eyes made the tears threaten even harder.
“Not really,” Summer mumbled.She’d almost forgotten about the bruising on her face.She had an impressive black eye now, but it looked worse than it felt.There were also contusions on her lower jaw where Nathan had hit her more than once, but again that was fading.And the slight pain was nothing compared to everything else that’d happened that night.Nothing compared to Paige’s death.Nothing compared to Mårten’s being stabbed.“I’ll put the kettle on,” she said a little awkwardly, breaking apart from Nikki’s well-intentioned embrace.
“That’d be nice,” Nikki agreed, taking a seat on the couch Summer had just vacated.She was dressed casually in white capris and a T-shirt, her long blonde hair left to fall over her shoulders in a silken sheath.
Before Summer could ask how the repairs were going on her burned front porch, the other woman exclaimed, “Oh, is this your world triathlon event?What a pity you had to miss it.”She leaned forward to peer at the television.Summer couldn’t detect any irony in Nikki’s tone.Summer had used the competition as her main excuse for not wanting to go to Sweden.Paradoxically, if she hadn’t consented to go and had instead remained in America under FBI guard, maybe she would still be attending the event.Summer wasn’t about to dwell on thewhat if’s, however.
“Yes,” she agreed, forcing a cheerful note into her voice.“But it’s all good.Erin is setting such a fast pace I’m sure I wouldn’t have had a chance of being beating her anyway,” she demurred.
Nikki frowned but said nothing in reply and lapsed into silence, which Summer tried to fill with the clatter of mugs on the countertop.Why couldn’t she think of anything to say?The air was tense and awkward in her little apartment.
“Jacob is home now too.He got in last night.And he’s worried about you,” Nikki said, standing and walking over to the kitchen island.Here it came at last, the real reason Nikki was here.A small, traitorous part of Summer wondered if Nikki was doing Jacob's job for him, asking these seemingly innocuous questions, and then she’d then go back and report all her movements to Jacob.
And Mårten.
“Is he?”Summer replied, trying and failing to keep the sullen note out of her tone.She’d had to endure hours of Jacob talking at her before she’d left Sweden, trying to convince her it wasn’t safe yet to return to America, with Mårten hovering in the background, a worried frowned creasing his brow, like he was her father or something.
“Which means I’m worried about you,” Nikki added.“They still haven’t found Tyrone King, you know.”
