He wasn’t like Shawn. Words of gratitude and expressing feelings didn’t come easy.
“Thank you,” he pushed out, heavy with meaning.
I looked at my sister, who stepped into her husband’s arms.
“Laurel would have done the same for me,” I said, “and you did shoot the asshole.” He had a look like that wasn’t enough, so I continued, “You can, like, get me a gift card or something if you feel inclined.”
He nodded, barely cracking a smile. Juric had made a mess of his life, but that was over now, and he hadn’t come out of it empty-handed.
My gaze drifted back to the reporters beyond the glass who were shouting my name and Shawn’s, and it ratcheted up my heartrate.
Jason’s attention went to his brother. “I did the best I could.”
“Believe me, I know,” he said. They could have been talking about anything.
Laurel leaned over and hugged me tightly. “Have a safe trip, and you call me when you get there, okay?”
I didn’t want to leave her, but the cameras... “Okay,” I said over my disappointment. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Her gaze rose to Shawn, and she gave him the evil eye. It made him smile, and he pulled her into a quick hug.
“Auf Wiedersehen,”she said.
“Don’t stop moving when you get outside,” Jason commanded. “Good luck.”
When my sister and brother-in-law stepped into a vacant elevator, Shawn said something to the orderly, and I was rolling forward. Everything was happening too fast for me. “Wait, wait! Shawn, I can’t do this.”
He gave me a pained look. “They’re not going to go away.”
The first set of glass doors peeled open, forcing me to shrink back into the wheelchair. The crowd of people with cameras jostled over each other to get into position, snapping pictures. It was mid-morning, but their flashes went off regardless, a sickening strobe effect.
He took my hand when the second set of doors opened, unleashing hell on us. The shouting was a roar, a mix of German and English questions almost impossible to discern. There were a few security personnel who kept a path clear, a bubble of space around us that collapsed almost immediately.
I wanted to die.
Laurel had selected a long-sleeved shirt for me even though it was warm outside, but there was no hiding my face or the faint ring of bruising around my neck. When a camera was shoved in front of me, Shawn batted it away and pressed us forward into the crowd. Where was he going?
Then I saw the limo waiting with the door open, impossible to see through the throng of people until we were almost on top of it.
“Kara! Kara Hayward,” the man beside me yelled. “Look over here!”
I didn’t dare. My eyes were fixed on Shawn, who pushed a cameraman out of the way and used my hand he was holding to pull me to my feet. I didn’t need him to say anything. I flung myself into the back seat and made way for him to follow. Which he did, struggling to close the door to the limo and probably breaking a camera in the process.
The interior dulled the noise from the circus somewhat.
“Scheiße,” he swore. “You all right? They can’t see us in here.” He straightened his suit, getting the jacket to sit better on his shoulders, before telling the driver to go.
I nodded, although the anxiety left me sick to my stomach. Thankfully, it faded as the car hurried away. We sat together on the bench in the back, and his arm hesitantly stretched behind me, over my shoulders.
“You Europeans have no concept of personal space,” I joked.
He straightened abruptly, and it made me feel awful.
“No, Shawn. I was teasing.” I grabbed his arm and threw it on my shoulders, positioning myself against him. Of course he was concerned about what I was comfortable with after Juric. My hand slid inside his suit coat and wrapped around his waist so I could cling to him. “I’m okay with this. Iwantthis.”
His chest rose and fell as he relaxed on a breath. His lips brushed a kiss over my forehead, right at my hairline. “Whatever you want.”
The drive to the Frankfurt airport took two hours, and I spent them enveloped in his embrace. His phone chimed endlessly until he turned it to vibrate, and even then, I could hear the steady, dull quiver it made from his pocket.
