Page 126 of Ethan & Grace

I shook my head, unable to speak. Tears of relief formed a lump in my throat.

“We’re getting you out of here,” the sergeant assured me, and pulled out a pocketknife to cut through the tape binding me to the chair. As he was working to free me, two more officers entered the room. They looked me over, and while one started undoing my handcuffs, the other scanned the room, taking in the traces of my escape attempt.

I was so overwhelmed that I still couldn’t speak. Was it really over? Was I free? Was I dreaming? How had the police known to search for me here?

The sergeant who had found me helped me to my feet, but he had to hold me up. My legs had gone numb, and my knees were weak with relief and exhaustion.

“Let me through!”

Ethan.

I whipped my head around.

Not a good idea. Black spots danced before my eyes, but Ethan’s face still swam into view. He came into the cellar and rushed towards me, practically tearing me out of the sergeant’s grip—and then I was in his arms. He held me tightly, and when I began to sob, he pulled me even closer, as though he wanted to fuse our bodies together.

“Oh my God, Grace.”

I wasn’t the only one in tears. Ethan cried with me, his face buried against my neck. His warm breath brushed against my cold skin.

“I was so scared,” I mumbled into his chest.

“I know. But everything’s going to be OK now.”

He didn’t let me go. I couldn’t tell if he held me for seconds or minutes. Slowly but surely, the pressure in my chest eased. The realisation that I was safe seeped in, and my body—which had been on high alert all this time—finally relaxed. My stiff muscles slackened, and I was suddenly crushingly tired.

Ethan moved away a little without letting me go. His gaze swept my face carefully before finally settling on the cut at my temple. He raised his hand and touched my cheek tenderly. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, that was me.”

Ethan’s smile was a mix of sorrow and relief as he kissed my face, though I knew it must be smeared with blood, dirt, and tears. His lips finally found mine, which were probably dry and chapped, but it didn’t seem to bother him. “I was so worried about you,” he murmured as he kissed me.

We were interrupted by the clearing of a throat. I’d forgotten we weren’t alone. “We should get Miss Claymore out of here,” the sergeant said with a faint smile. “The paramedics are already waiting.”

I wanted to say that I didn’t need medical attention, just a shower and some rest, but before I could speak, Ethan had already slipped his arm around my waist and was leading me out of the wine cellar and through the house, which was swarming with police officers.

Javier—whom I’d spoken to at St. Thomas’ Hospital—and his colleague were standing by the ambulance. They examined me before treating the small gash on my head and the cuts on my hands.

Just as they were finishing up, my dad’s Toyota came speeding up the driveway. My mum practically jumped out before the car had stopped moving and rushed towards me. I didn’t know how to react as she hugged me for the first time in months. It was enough to make me start crying again. A moment later, I felt another pair of arms wrap around my mum and me. Dad. He held both of us tightly as we cried together.

“Where’s Jason?” I asked through my sobs.

“At his girlfriend’s,” my mum replied, sniffling as she stroked my face. She held my gaze, and all I saw in her eyes were joy and relief. No pain, no disappointment. “We’ve already messaged him. He’s going home, and he’ll wait for us there.” She turned to Javier. “Can Grace go home?”

“Your daughter doesn’t appear to be seriously injured, but I’d like to take her to the hospital just to be sure. Concussions are no joke.”

“I’m fine,” I assured him. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

“You should,” Javier cautioned.

I shook my head. It was probably reckless of me, but all I wanted was to go home to my own room, my own bed. I didn’t want to go from one strange, cold place to another. Besides, I genuinely felt fine. Just exhausted and bone-tired. Nothing a good sleep couldn’t fix.

Javier sighed. “Fine. If you insist. We can’t force you. But be aware that you’re going against our advice. If you start feeling dizzy or nauseous in the next few hours, come straight to the hospital. Understood?”

“Understood,” I agreed.

My dad shook hands with the two men and then helped me out of the ambulance. Ethan had stepped back a little to give me and my parents space, but now he came closer, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, as if he were unsure how to behave around me with my parents there. It was sweet.

“Thank you for finding our Grace,” my mum said.