Reaching for my ring, I panic for a second until I remember it’s back where it belongs. On my finger. And today, we’re going home. To Boston where…we’ll be together.
With my fingernail, I drag a light scratch along my forearm. Not enough to make me bleed. Not even enough to raise a welt. Just enough to confirm this isn’t a dream.
“Joey?” Ford’s voice is thick with sleep, and he pushes up on an elbow, gently wrapping his big hand around mine. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He starts to protest, but I wriggle around to face him. “That’s the truth, Ford. I…needed to know this wasn’t a dream.”
His hazel eyes hold so many emotions: concern, love, fear, relief…all swirling around in their depths. “We never talked about when I need to worry…” He skims his fingers over my scars. “If I’m ever the cause—”
“If it gets serious again…you’ll know.” I cup his cheek, the light stubble tickling my palm. “I’ll tell you. But sometimes, like right now, it’s just a way for me to know I’m…alive. Safe. I won’t promise you I’ll never cut myself again. But I’ll tell you if I do.”
He nods, my explanation enough for him—at least for now—and I snuggle closer.
“Maybe in a few weeks…you can come to one of my therapy sessions. Dr. Rita would probably love to meet you. God knows she’s heard enough about you.” I smile against his chest, and he strokes up and down my back. “She can give you some of the signs I might miss in my own behavior.”
“Whatever you need, Joey. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” His voice rumbles under my ear, and I relax into his embrace. This is a dream. The perfect dream. And maybe…for once…it doesn’t have to end.
The apartment phone rings as I’m pulling my hair up into a messy bun. Qarshi is a large enough city I don’t have to cover my head out in public, and the freedom makes me giddy.
“Joey?” Ford holds out the phone. “It’s Lisette.” When I draw in a sharp breath, he quickly adds, “It’s good news.”
“Lisette? What is it?”
“My sister…Noele,” she says with such joy in her voice, I can’t help my smile. “She arrived last night, and…Dr. Joey, she is a match for Mateen’s bone marrow. She demanded to be tested as soon as I told her about his condition.”
“Oh, my God. That’s so wonderful, Lisette.” Tears gather in the corners of my eyes, and I turn to Ford. “Do we have time to stop by the hospital to see Mateen and Lisette before we go?”
“Dax arranged this plane, buttercup. It’ll wait for us as long as we need.” He shoves the last of our clothes in his duffel bag, then takes the metal tin he used to protect his letters to me, wraps a rubber band around it, and lovingly places it on top of the bag. “We can be at the hospital in under an hour.”
In the background, I hear the boy call for his mother. “I am sorry, Dr. Joey, I must go, but you will come?”
“We’ll be there soon.”
The light linen pants billow around my legs, and though my blouse has a high neck and long sleeves, it flares at the waist, the style so very different from everything I was forced to wear when I was under Faruk’s control. The SUV—with bulletproof windows and reinforced siding—carries us slowly down the Qarshi streets. For a small city, it’s surprisingly congested.
Ford keeps hold of my hand, absently stroking his thumb over my engagement ring. Even though the two men in the front seat are heavily armed, he never stops checking all around us, and I lean closer to whisper in his ear. “You’re worried. Why?”
Turning, he brushes a tender kiss to my lips. “Not worried. Prepared.” Patting the gun strapped to his hip, he returns his gaze out the side window. “I won’t take a chance with your safety. Wren’s monitoring for any chatter that mentions you or Faruk, and we’re getting Lisette and Mateen out of the country as soon as the kid can travel.”
“You think he’s going to come after his son. And once he has his son back…he’ll need me again.” A cold weight settles over my chest, and my throat tightens. “Ford, you can’t keep things like this from me.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment. “It’s my job to protect you. From everything.”
The words he doesn’t say echo in my mind, and anger prickles along my skin. “Including from myself. That’s what you’re really saying, isn’t it? That you didn’t trust me with your concerns because you thought I’d cut myself again. That I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“Joey—”
Yanking my hand away from his, I shake my head. “Don’t ‘Joey’ me. I’ve spent the last twenty years of my life alone. I put myself through school, paid off all my student loans, made a name for myself in the medical community.” My voice breaks, and I blow out a slow, controlled breath to rein in my emotions. “I have nightmares, Ford. I can’t sleep in the dark. Men…almost all men…scare the crap out of me. And yes. When things are at their worst, I self-harm. But if you want this to work, you have to trust me.”
The car is deathly silent, our two escorts keeping their heads pointed straight ahead as we make the turn into the hospital parking lot. When Alec, the burlier of the two, opens the back door for me, I give Ford’s profile a hard stare. “I’m going to see Lisette and Mateen. Are you coming? Or not?”
His swallow is audible, even over the hum of the traffic down the street. “I have to check in with Nomar. Get the video he recorded of Faruk’s compound for Wren. Alec and Jackson won’t let you out of their sight. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Take this with you.” He hands me a folding knife, and I shove it into my pocket.
“Fine.” As I get to my feet, I square my shoulders. “We’re not done with this conversation. I love you, Ford. With everything I am. You saved my life. More than that…I think you saved a part of who I used to be. Who I was meant to be all along. A part of me I didn’t know was still locked deep inside. But those words I said all those years ago? They’re still true. This doesn’t work if you don’t trust me.”
Ford
I’m in a foul mood when I shove through the door to Nomar’s room. Wires and tubes snake from underneath the drab hospital gown, and he’s paler than I’ve ever seen him. But he turns his head and gives me a weak grin as I drop into the chair next to him. “‘Bout time, asshole.”
