Leo awoke in a sea of grogginess and pain and an incongruous sense of warm comfort. He focused on the latter despite it being the faintest. He drew strength from the sensation as he battled through the heavy sleepiness that threatened to drag him back down into the dark oblivion. His leg throbbed, and his entire body felt as if it had been tossed around in a human-size saltshaker. The head of the orphanage had firmly believed in corporal punishment, and Leo had learned early to deal with discomfort, but this was greater than he’d ever encountered.
But Leo knew how to fight it. And this time he had that wonderful whisper of warmth. He clung to it, using it to leverage his body out of the morass of agony. His eyelids fluttered open, and an overwhelming sense of white and light struck him. Fuzzy and disoriented, he almost slipped backward past the hurt in order to reach the forgiving blackness. Then he heard her.Mattie.
“Leo?” Mattie’s voice sounded softer than he’d ever heard before. She was scared, worried, frightened. He had to reassure her, comfort her. He forced his eyes open this time. His mouth felt dry, cottony, and his body curiously heavy.
“Leo?” Mattie’s tone was stronger now, and her beautiful green-gold irises appeared in his line of vision. She squeezed his hand, and he realized rather sluggishly that her touch had been the source of his sense of succor.
“Hey.” His voice sounded raw and shaky even to him, but the word was audible at least.
“Oh, Leo, I’m so sorry I didn’t take your concerns more seriously.” Mattie brushed her lips against his cheek, and it felt good, so good. He hadn’t lost her after all. He’d feared he had from the minute he’d jumped into that cockpit and prevented her from flying. He’d thought she’d withdraw from him the way she had all those years ago when he’d ratted her out to her brothers and that she’d leave him like everyone else. But she hadn’t. She was here, holding his hand... apologizing tohim... watching over him.
“S’okay,” he breathed out. It took so much energy to talk. He didn’t feel like he was dying, though—just fuzzy, so fuzzy. “Hard to think.”
“They gave you morphine,” Mattie explained, “and something to keep you unconscious during surgery.”
“Don’t like.” He knew he sounded grumpy, but he’d rather face the agony, especially if it meant talking to Mattie more clearly. He wanted to say so much.
Mattie gave him a rather watery smile as she gently brushed back his hair. He would have closed his eyes at the remarkable tenderness of her touch, but he was afraid he would fall asleep immediately.
“The doctors have every hope you won’t need strong medicine for long,” Mattie said. “By some miracle, the worst injury appears to be to your right leg, and that will heal.”
Leo had more time with Mattie, then. He wished he could tell her that, express that, but it would take too many words. Instead he, who had always hidden his emotions, tried to convey his feelings with his eyes alone. He greatly feared, though, that his gaze looked as bleary as he felt. Yet somehow, Mattie read his silent message, and even better, she returned it.
“I love you, Leo.” Mattie pressed the lightest of kisses against his lips.“I love you.”A flicker of memory winked through him. He’d heard her say that before as he’d lain on the ground, his mind drifting away from Mattie when he’d so badly wanted to stay.
He yearned to verbally say the words he’d held inside himself for so long... too long. But he didn’t have the energy, so he smiled. As he grinned, a gentle, soothing sleep claimed him once more.
When Leo awoke again, the degree of pain had increased, but his mind felt clearer. It took him much less effort to open his eyes. The room had descended into darkness, lit only by a single lamp. Yet still, in his hand,he felt Mattie’s. He slowly shifted his head to find her curled in a decidedly uncomfortable-looking chair. Her slight body seemed jammed into several impossible angles, yet somehow, she’d fallen asleep. She snored slightly, and the faint little snorts made him smile. Even in rest, Mattie couldn’t stay still. She had to make some noise, some movement.
But he didn’t like the light bruising under her eyes. She needed real sleep, not some facsimile in a noisy hospital, her body folded like a lady’s fan.
Mattie must have sensed his gaze, for she shifted, stretched the hand not holding his, and blinked. When she spied him awake, she bolted upright.
“How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain? Should I call for a nurse? They said to let them know if you needed more medication.”
“I’ve had enough fog for a lifetime,” Leo grumbled and then realized that complaining wasnothow he wanted to spend his time with Mattie. Relaxing his scowl, he rubbed his thumb gently over her knuckles. He had never told another being that he loved them, not even in the platonic sense. He huffed out a breath, but when the words finally came, he found them surprisingly and wonderfully easy to say.
“I love you, Mattie McAdams.”
He’d always found Mattie beautiful. It didn’t matter if she had a smudge of grease on her face or diamonds hanging from her ears. But thelookshe gave him, the utterglowshining from her golden eyes, the sheerlovein her smile as her pink lips tilted upward...
It undid him. It was as if everything inside him unspooled so it could wrap up in her.
“You told me you were sorry for not listening to my concerns.” Leo swallowed hard. “I wanted to apologize, too, for taking that plane. But once I saw it was tampered with, I knew I couldn’t let you climb into the cockpit.”
“Why did you fly it? You knew it would crash, yet you still tried to operate it,” Mattie asked, her eyes wet again. The sight slayed Leo. Mattie rarely teared up, and he’d never seen her cry until now.
“I couldn’t save Alfred.” The confession came in a rush, the awful truth that felt like a secret but really wasn’t. Everyone knew Leo had returned from the front... and the beloved McAdams brother hadn’t.
Mattie blinked, clearly not expecting this. Then her entire face softened, not hardened as he’d expected. “Leo, Alfred was brought down by enemy fire. There was nothing you could have done.”
“He wasn’t brought down by enemy fire, not at first.” Leo had told this story only two times before. The first to his commanding officer and the second in a letter—that damned misguided letter. Then he’d never spoken of it again. Not once. He hadn’t ever wanted to relive it, but in some ways, by not thinking about it, he’d enshrined it inside himself. And it had become a part of him.
“I know he accidentally flew into an ambush.” Mattie’s voice wobbled a bit when she spoke, but Leo barely heard the catch as his own guilt roared through him like thunder.
“It wasn’t just that,” Leo admitted hoarsely, and Mattie’s delicate fingers tightened on his. He almost stopped, but he’d already said too much. If he did not continue, her mind would create increasingly worse scenarios, and Mattie possessed a vivid imagination.
Leo swallowed once, then twice, before he could continue. “After he got mixed up, Alfred dived too quickly after an enemy pilot. One of the major weaknesses of our Nieuports was that the canvas would tear off in rapid descents. Alfred knew that—we all knew that—but that didn’t stop him from swooping down. You fly so similar to him. Fast. Heedless to danger. Absolutely fearlessly.”
