Page 89

I know Six has arrived when I hear Jim’s disgusted exhale. I resent him for it, but I understand it as well—even from a distance it’s clear Six is worse for wear. He’s wearing sunglasses inside and I can smell his pot-and-beer odor from five feet away. He hugs his mother, then me.

“Thanks for helping my parents,” he says against my ear. “Can we talk later, once we know the deal with Josh?”

“There is absolutely nothing to discuss,” I reply, detaching myself. “I didn’t do this for you.”

There’s a commotion at the door before he can even react. A gurney is coming in, led by two guys in flight suits. The patient is on oxygen, has lines going everywhere. I clutch Beth’s arm until the guy’s face comes into view.

“It’s not him,” I whisper, relieved and devastated at once. I don’t want Josh to have been badly hurt, but I’d take that over other alternatives. Suddenly, Beth’s legs start to give out. I catch her and Jim sprints across the room to help me get her into a chair.

“I’m sorry,” she cries with her face in her hands. “I was so scared and then it wasn’t him and now I wish it was. He’s still my baby.” Jim places a hand on her back and my eyes tear up yet again. I’ve only known Josh a fraction of the time they have and I’m devastated. I can’t imagine what this must be like for them.

The next time the doors open, I brace myself. It won’t be him. Don’t get your hopes up.

And then I stand to get a better look and clutch the plastic waiting room chair beside me to stay upright, covering my mouth to hide the strangled sob that leaves my throat.

Josh.

He’s bare-chested and there’s a makeshift bandage around his shoulder that’s soaked in blood. He’s being pushed through the doors in a wheelchair, but he’s alive. Tears roll down my face at the sight of him, pale and exhausted, barefoot, covered in dirt. But alive. Thank God.

His family surges forward while I stay behind, watching as he rises from the wheelchair—ignoring the outcry from the soldier pushing him. He hugs his mom, his father, even Six. Sabine and the other two nurses have rushed toward him as well.

I want to stand here and stare at him until I’ve had my fill. I want more than that, but I’d settle simply for the sight of him. Except, my part in this is done. I wanted to know he was safe, and that will have to be enough. I’m not going to make an awkward situation worse.

I take another step backward and look for an exit. It was always my plan to leave once we got news. I just didn’t realize how much it would actually hurt to see him and walk away.

Suddenly, his mother is pointing toward me and his head jerks my way, astonished. His eyes lock with mine, and it makes me so happy and hurts so much at the same time.

I give him a small, pathetic wave, accompanied by a small, pathetic smile. One that says Hi there and I’m glad you’re okay and I get it, this is weird, but I’m playing along.

And then he’s pushing past them, breaking through the crowd to reach me. He stops when he’s a foot away and I’m frozen, uncertain how to be this near him without pressing my face to his chest, without throwing my arms around him. I was right, I guess, when I said it would never work. It still doesn’t work.

“You came all the way here for me,” he says.

I swallow. “Of course I did,” I say roughly, and then there are tears rolling down my face.

“Because you love me.”

I nod. “Yes. But your family—”

He steps closer and reaches toward me. One hand lands on my waist, the other cups my jaw. “And you’re in this for the whole ride, wherever it takes us?”

My eyes widen. “Yes,” I whisper in a choked voice.

In the distance someone shouts What the fuck? But Josh is smiling. The world is falling apart around us and he’s smiling.

“Me too,” he says and then he kisses me. In front of his entire family and all the people in this waiting room, he kisses me like he thought he might never see me again. And then I start to cry once more, because I never dreamed I’d end up with everything I want from this, and I have.

48

JOSH

There’s a time to worry about being diplomatic, about handling everything in exactly the right way. But this isn’t that time. Not after nearly dying and realizing I didn’t want to leave the world without letting her know how I felt.

“I love you,” I tell her. I know I should let her go, stop kissing her long enough to get this all out, but I want too many things at once right now. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” she says, sounding like she is laughing and crying at the same time. “And I was so stupid. I didn’t know it was that dangerous and—”

“Not stupid,” I tell her. How could she have known? I went out of my way to make it sound manageable. “I hurt you. I was so freaked out that I didn’t think at all about how it made you feel.”