Page 109 of Reacher
“Stitch, you’re gonna be fine, okay? And I’m gonna be with you every fucking step of the way. We all will. We’re a family, and we look after our own. And strong enough? Of course you are. You’re the strongest fucker I know. This ain’t how it goes down, okay?”
His eyes were wet, and he rubbed his arm across his face.
“I’m scared. I’m ashamed of that fact, but I’m fucking terrified. Some fucker wants to shoot me, or stab me, or beat me to death,I can face that, but… if this is… if it’s… I mean, the last place you want some bastard with a scalpel is your fucking balls, am I right?” He was trying to laugh it off, like it was nothing, but it fucking wasn’t.
Thirty-Eight
Ieventuallyfellasleep,andwhen I woke in the early hours of the morning, there he was, slumped beside me, his head and arms resting on the bed beside me. I reached out a hand and stroked it over his short hair, managing to do it several times before he suddenly jolted awake. He blinked at me a few times, looking a little lost at first.
“Uh… you okay? What time is it?”
“No idea. About the time, I mean. I shouldn’t have woken you, but you need to sleep in a bed, Reacher. You’re not doing yourself any good sitting like that.”
He shrugged, rubbing at his face.
“I’m fine. It’s uh… I could use one of the other beds, I guess. I don’t want to be away from you right now.”
I didn’t think it was possible to love him more, but he kept surprising me.
“I don’t really want you away from me either.” It was tough to admit such things, but it was the truth. Now that we were back together, I wanted nothing to keep us apart.
“I’ll be out of here tomorrow, and we can get used to whatever the hell normal looks like for us.”
Reacher didn’t seem like himself, and I know he’d just woken up, but he was a little distant, but not in a way that made me worry it was about me. Something was bothering him.
“Yeah… uh… what? Tomorrow. Good. And I’ll make sure we follow the doc’s orders, so you don’t get hurt again.”
“What’s wrong?”
He frowned, pressing at those studs in his eyebrow.
“Stuff on my mind, woman. That’s all. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Bullshit. If I’m going to be your old lady then I’m in, right? I’m part of your life, your world. That means you don’t give me the ‘leave everything to the man, little lady’, and you actually talk to me. I’m the one you can turn to when you need to let stuff out.”
He snorted, but even that seemed half-hearted, like he was doing it purely for me, rather than out of any real mirth.
“Should have seen that one coming. You’re right. It’s just… I talked with Stitch.”
Oh. “Is everything okay now?”
He shook his head, looking incredibly sad. He had so much weight on his shoulders, and I could see how it was piling higher with every moment. I could feel myself tensing up in response, dread settling in deep into my soul, because it looked very much like bad news was coming, and Reacher had no idea how to handle it.
“What’s going on? Is he okay?”
He sighed. “I… Jesus… this is his business, so I can’t say too much, but uh… he has a… he might be sick. He might be uh… really sick.”
He looked devastated as he tried to tell me without actually telling me, trying to honour his brother’s privacy, while tellingme enough so I’d know it was serious as hell. Something worse than mafia and cartels, and drugs, and all the things that had already caused him so much stress.
“Really sick like the word nobody ever wants to use?”
He groaned, pressing at his piercings again.
“Maybe. He’s uh… he’s pretty freaked out.”
“Who wouldn’t be? Is he gonna talk to Doc? Or is that already in hand?”
He took my hand, stroking my fingers.
