Page 358 of A Matter of Time

I loved it too.

“You’re never gonna leave me.”

And there was something solid and comforting about his declaration, because I tended to test the limits of what I could do, and he was telling me that whatever drama or stunts were thrown his way, he would endure. He was strong. I wouldn’t wear him down. I couldn’t get him to stop loving me like every other guy had before.

“Kiss me.”

And when I did, when I slanted my mouth over his, kissing him hard and deep, I heard the sigh of contentment come up from his gut.

“God, I love you,” he groaned.

I told him the feeling was mutual.

Two hours later, after I had him cleaned up and changed into a long-sleeved button-down shirt over the T-shirt, I walked him back down to the front stoop. I received a bruising, thorough kiss that left me breathless, and waved like a crazy person when he got near his car. I heard the chirp of the alarm… and then the SUV exploded.

It was so fast. It was there one second, gone the next—the flame turning into a fireball that blew over the top of the next car and died in the snow beyond it. I heard dogs barking and every car alarm on the street blaring as I ran in the sneakers he’d made me put on across the lawn to the sidewalk, then to the street. The two patrol officers were already there, one checking on Sam, the other on his radio.

My heartbeat was pounding in my ears. I was conscious of my panting breath and the way my heart felt—like a knife had been driven through it. There was a smell like rubber burning, and the truck itself was now a charred, twisted piece of metal. Sam was lying on his back in the street, and I fell to my knees beside him. I put my head on his chest, but I couldn’t hear anything. The officer was talking to me, but I couldn’t understand a word.

I touched Sam everywhere at once, checking for signs of life. It was surreal, and I kept looking around for something I could point to and know I was dreaming. I had bruises on my skin that he’d put there just an hour ago, my lips were still tender from his kisses, and now he barely had a pulse as he lay there, unconscious and bleeding in the street. I rifled through his peacoat, but when I found his cell phone, it was smashed, the display black. I started screaming then, and the officer crouched down beside me. I should have run back inside, I should have left him to get help, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave his side. I could only sit there. It was a relief to hear all the sirens.

THIRTEEN

Istood there in the room as they worked on Sam, having ridden to the hospital with him in the back of the ambulance. They weren’t supposed to let me do that, but something about my face had changed the EMT’s mind. And now I was watching as three doctors, four nurses, and a surgeon, who had been paged, all stepped quickly around Sam in what seemed like a choreographed dance. The way everyone moved so precisely, not one person bumping another, was amazing to see.

I had questions coming at me fast, and I answered without thinking—just the facts, no embellishment, simply what I’d seen. From the force of the explosion, they were worried about internal bleeding. I was terrified of all the blood I could see. They would need a head CT to determine what, if any, damage had been done to his brain, but were worried at the moment that he was still unconscious and had no response to pain. His pupils, either big or small—I didn’t catch which it was—were also a cause for concern. Once they started cutting his shirt and pants off, they had me step out, taking me to a quiet room, not out to the ER waiting area.

Sam had already changed the durable power of attorney for healthcare that we would put into effect for me. He must have done it when we first got back together, because I was the one everyone talked to. Also, a nurse brought me papers to initial and sign—so many papers—and I had to sit there and answer more questions. I was so happy when his mother showed up, taking a seat beside me, able to answer another nurse about whether or not he had allergies. I didn’t think he had any and was happy to hear I was right. They were surprised that a homicide detective drank only occasionally and didn’t smoke.

“That’s because he’s happy,” his mother told the nurse. “He’s in love.”

Dane was there by the time they got to the questions about AIDS, and his glare was frigid as he answered that no, neither Sam nor I were positive. “I know you have to ask that question, but perhaps ask it in a non-accusatory way,” he cautioned the nurse.

She apologized, and when she took my hand, I felt better.

Dane spoke to Sam’s captain and Chloe, and I appreciated him being the point of contact until everyone arrived. It was too much for me to do anything but focus on Sam. I was overwhelmed. I wanted to be strong, to be a rock, but I had just gotten him back, and the thought of losing him forever was gutting me. Dane dealing with the madness was better.

“Your brother takes good care of you,” Regina told me.

I could only nod.

They came and told us that they were moving us all upstairs to the third floor, as Sam had been taken up there for surgery. He had been stabilized, and now they were operating.

The area upstairs was bigger, lots of room, lots of people sitting there, waiting. Regina sat on one side of me, Aja on the other, while Dane paced, along with Sam’s dad, Thomas, his brother, Michael, and his partner, Chloe. Soon the waiting room was full of policemen and detectives, and still there was no word. We had to wait and see, and it was slowly driving me insane. Dane went back to my apartment with a police escort and got me my heavy fisherman sweater and my parka. Sam had made me put on my sneakers and socks just to walk him out, and I’d been glad when I was riding in the ambulance with him. Dane made it back to me right before I froze to death, still in the T-shirt and jeans Sam had seen me in last.

I sat there for three hours staring at the ceiling tiles, another three watching people get coffee from the machine, remembering that Sam and I had been there together not even a month ago, when Micah was born. I let Regina tell me everything would be all right; I let Aja put her arm around my shoulders and hug me tight. Sam’s captain came and squeezed my hand; Chloe put her hands on my face and promised me that Sam was way too tough to die. Dane just looked at me, saying nothing because he didn’t know anything yet, the realist unable to give me false hope. Somehow that was the most comforting, because it wasn’t the time to be sad yet, or worry. We had no idea what was going on—the time for panic would be later, if at all. No reason to get ahead of myself.

More officers came and went, there were reporters who spoke to his captain outside the hospital about the incident, and the FBI guys lingered on the edge of the circus. One of the reporters got upstairs with a cameraman and tried to talk to Sam’s family and me, but he was dragged away by uniformed policemen before he could get too close. Apparently, the captain didn’t mind answering questions about Sam’s service record, his time on the force, or his injuries, but his relationship to me was not for public knowledge. And even though Aja said it shouldn’t matter, I thanked the captain anyway. Dane told me later that there was another FBI agent coming, but I didn’t listen to who it was or when he would show up. The only thing I could do was wait to hear about Sam. My mind could focus on nothing else. I stared out the window and tried to picture my life without Sam Kage. I couldn’t see it, and took that as a good sign.

Almost everyone was asleep when the surgeon finally emerged well after midnight, early in the morning. I was up and out of my chair so fast that I upset Regina and Aja, who were asleep on either side of me. I reached the surgeon and stood there, holding my breath as the others crowded around us. I waited for my life to either begin again or end. Dr. Kohara didn’t look at anyone but me.

“He lost a lot of blood, Mr. Harcourt.” He sighed deeply, looking weary. “There was a lot of internal bleeding, and that took a while to get under control. We had to check everything, which is what took hours.”

“Okay,” I said, because it seemed like he wanted me to say something.

“We’re keeping him in the ICU, but he’s stable at the moment. We will continue to monitor his progress.”

I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.