Page 122 of The Weight Of Falling
“Hey.” He sits on the edge of the bed and gathers me carefully into his arms. “It’s over. You’re okay.”
It isn’t okay. I don’t know if it will ever be okay again. It feels like Eddie didn’t just cut my body; it feels like he carved out pieces of my soul. I can’t tell where I end and the fear begins.
Joel eases back just enough to study my face. “Look at me,” he says steadily. “You’re safe. You’re with me.”
I ask the question that’s been bothering me. “How did you find me?”
“I put a tracker in your pendant,” he says. “I did it when we became serious.”
That’s why Eddie was so furious when he opened the pendant. He must have recognized the tracker.
“When you were taken, he shoved you into something metal for the drive,” Joel goes on. “There were vents, so you could breathe, but it blocked the signal.” He swallows, giving himself a moment. “The tracker’s tiny, so it only transmits in short bursts to save battery. Ten minutes between pings can feel like a year when you’re waiting.”
I keep silent, letting him finish.
“I hate that it took hours to get to you,” he says, his jaw tight. “I hate that you were there for even one minute of it.”
“But you got to me,” I say softly.
“We did.”
I draw a shaky breath, tears stinging my eyes. “Joel, I feel so lost.”
His eyes soften. “Then I’ll help you find your way back.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my pendant. “We had the chain fixed.” He places it in my palm and folds my fingers around it, his larger hand wrapping mine like a shield.
“So you always remember who you are,” he whispers. “Your grandmother’s words are stronger than anything he said. Let her voice drown out his.”
He presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “Go to sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake.”
“You won’t leave?”
“I won’t leave.” His eyes hold mine. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be except at your side.”
Epilogue
One year later...
“Please tell me there are potatoes,” Sofia demands. “I NEED potatoes.”
I hide a smile. Pregnancy cravings have hit her hard, and we’re all orbiting her like it’s our new normal.
She pats her adorable little bump. “This little one wants her potatoes every which way,” she declares. “Floating in cream in a potato bake, fried to within an inch of their lives, baked and smothered in butter. What else?” she asks, almost pleading. “There has to be another way I can eat them.”
“We can grate them and fry them into potato pancakes,” Tess suggests.
Sofia’s eyes light up. She looks ready to drop to the floor and worship at Tess’s feet. “Oh, that sounds heavenly. Why didn’t I think of that?”
She turns to Matt with a determined glint in her eyes, but Matt is already moving.
“On it,” he says, kissing her briefly and heading for the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Sofia murmurs, her smile soft and content.
“I’ll help,” Tess adds, trailing after him.
“I’m just relieved it’s not pickles she craves,” Matt says over his shoulder to Tess. “I hate pickles.”
Fortunately, we all love potatoes.
