After a wobbly smile, she tears into the bar. “Oh, God. This is awful.”
At least I think that’s what she says. Hard to tell with her mouth full. “You’re so beautiful.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and Joey flinches. “Joey…I’m so sorry. I fucked everything up. Both of our lives… If I hadn’t—”
“Stop.” The single word is choked with emotion, and tears glisten in her eyes. “Not here. Please?” Shoving the last bite of protein bar in her mouth, she nods at the steering wheel. “If he finds us, he’ll kill you, and I’ll…I’ll be…” She swallows a sob and shakes her head. “Just…drive.”
Nodding, I stow my gear, pay the elders in the camp another five grand so they hand over the keys, and slide in next to her. Tears glisten on her cheeks, and my heart feels like it’s about to break into a million pieces.
There’s so much I want to say to her. So many years of regrets and desires and frustrations. But despite how strong she was when she walked into that dark basement room, now, she looks like she’s about to fall apart.
I throw the Jeep into gear and head for town. I hope once we get there, she’ll talk to me. Yell at me. Anything but this.
As we turn onto the main road, I whisper, “There wasn’t a single day I didn’t think about you. Not one.”
Joey
The drive to Mazari Sharif passes in a blur. I can’t quite believe I’m safe, let alone sitting next to a man I’ve…loved…for more than twenty years. But the reality of what happens next presses down on me, and I’m struggling to stay calm enough to breathe.
I can tell he wants to talk, but I can’t. Not yet. I’m such a hypocrite. The houses start to get closer and closer together, apartment buildings and shopping centers in the distance.
Sneaking a glance at Ford’s chiseled features, a hard lump in my throat aches, and I reach for the bottle of water he put in the cup holder for me. The years made him even more handsome. A hint of gray colors his temples and is sprinkled through his sandy hair. His short stubble is peppered with silver, and the lines on his forehead…he didn’t have those the last time I saw him.
More than the physical, though, it’s his maturity that stands out. His consideration. The way he didn’t touch me until I’d made the first move. Stopping to bind my foot, and the emotion in his voice as he tried to apologize for…everything.
It doesn’t take long for him to navigate through a quiet neighborhood with squat apartment buildings and old cars parked on the street. He guides the Jeep up to a garage door, hops out, and lifts it like it weighs nothing at all. The interior lights wink on as he parks, and then we’re hidden away, the garage closed, the Jeep off, and Ford holding my door open.
“We’re here, buttercup.”
I don’t have any belongings, so I slide from the seat and let him help me to the interior door. It’s secured with an electronic lock, and he enters a ten-digit code, then waits for the light to turn from red to green.
“Wait right here,” he says as he pulls out his pistol. “I need to clear the place. Make sure no one’s been here.”
A moment of pure panic consumes me, and I grab his arm. “Please don’t leave me alone,” I whisper.
His eyes lock onto mine, and for a second, I think he understands. How much I want to be in his arms, but how hard it is for me to ask.
“Okay. Stay behind me the entire time. Close behind me.”
I’m practically glued to his back as he moves from room to room, checking doors and sweeping a handheld blacklight over the knobs and other hard surfaces.
In the larger of the two bedrooms, a duffel bag rests in the center of a queen-sized bed, and the lights cast a warm glow over the multi-colored, woven blanket, the pillows, and…the box of Red Vines sitting on the nightstand.
Running my hand over the wrapper, I sigh. “When Trevor found me, I didn’t want to go with him. Until he showed me that little bag.”
Ford’s lips tug into a small grin. “You still like them?”
“Yes.” The plastic rips easily, and I pull out two of the red tubes, then hand one to him. As he takes it, he looks down at my palm, then sits next to me and takes my hand, turning it over in his and unfurling my fingers.
“What happened? Did the reins cut you?”
Dammit. The half-moon cuts are bright red and one of them is still oozing a little. Sucking air through my teeth, struggling to calm my racing heart, I try to pull my hand away. “It wasn’t…the reins. It doesn’t…make any sense. I know it’s stupid. I… I can’t…explain.”
“Joey, look at me.”
He knows. I expect judgement, but when I meet his gaze, there’s only understanding and pain. “You were trying to survive.”
Only able to manage a single nod, I tense as the first tear rolls down my cheek. I can’t let him see my thighs. Or my forearms. The hundreds of thin scars I’ve given myself over the years are so ugly, I refuse to wear shorts or tank tops, even on the hottest days of the year.
“You are beautiful, buttercup. Beautiful and strong and…we’re going to talk about this. When you’re ready. But for now…these need to be cleaned—along with your foot—and then…you should rest. Will you let me help you?”
