Page 91 of Reacher
I wished we’d met twenty years earlier. That we’d had a whole life together. People think finding your perfect other half late in life is romantic. It isn’t. It’s devastating, because we’d wasted a large chunk of our lives without ever knowing each other, and we could have been together that whole damn time.
“You okay, woman?” I blinked, lifted from my thoughts, and worrying, by Reacher’s gruff tone. I noticed then that Stitch had left the room while I’d been dwelling.
“Sorry. Miles away, I guess.”
“You don’t really have to watch him die, or take part, if it’s too much for you. It’s your call.” I was actually glad that he’d mis-read my silence, because I wasn’t ready to put a voice to my fears.
“I’m kind of on the fence, but I do need to know he’s gone. I need that to feel safe.”
Reacher lifted my face, cupping it in both hands, so he could kiss my forehead.
“You’re never going to have to be afraid of anyone again, woman. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“You mean you won’t let anyone near me,” I half-joked, and his grin spread wide.
“Same difference, Ally. They can’t hurt you if they’re kept away, right?”
That was good enough for me. I pressed my face against his chest again as his grip loosened, and he stroked my hair until I fell asleep, lulled into a relaxed state by the slow, steady beating of his heart.
Reacher
Onedayofrestat home, and I was back to my usual self. I was a little wary of everything I did, but I felt strong again. The old ticker was still beating in my chest, so I had to get back to things. Keeping Ally in that damn bed was enough of a challenge though. Stubborn woman that she was, she’d actually become a bit clingy. I could understand it, but I also couldn’t let her move around with me.
“Reacher, I… I’m fine really. Look.” She tried climbing out of the bed, and gasped, clutching at her stomach, her eyes meeting mine slowly.
“Jesus, woman. I’m only going to be in my office for half an hour or so. Just gotta run through some club stuff with Stitch.”
She groaned, and tried again to climb up out of the bed, before I cursed and headed back, easing her under the covers again.
“Please, I know you want to be up and about, but you’re not healed yet.”
She chewed her lip. “I… I’m afraid to be alone, Reacher.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she angrily rubbed at them. Fuck. I’d needed a change of scenery, a return to the norm, but I wasn’t leaving her like this.
Digging my phone out of my pocket, I rang Stitch.
“Change of plans, brother. Bring lunch up to my room, we’ll meet here.”
He agreed, and ended the call. No arguments. No questions. Just accepting that I needed to be here, with my old lady. It was part of the reason why he was my perfect VP.
The relief and gratitude in her eyes told me it was the right decision. I sat on the bed with her, rubbing her palm with my thumb.
“We’ll sit over at the window so you can have some peace, woman, but I’m not leaving you, okay?” I had a sneaking suspicion that part of her fear was being alone, and part of it was literally being away from me. Like she still wasn’t over thinking I’d died, and that feeling I could totally understand.
When Stitch tapped on the door and poked his head in, I waved at him. He brought a tray with him containing lunch for three, and three coffees. He loaded our plates and drinks onto the dining table, and returned with the tray, handing it to me, so I could set it up for Ally. Tommy, our prospect in charge of food and drinks, had outdone himself. It was a stir fry of some sort, and smelled amazing. Once Ally was set, I kissed the top of her head, and joined Stitch at the dining table.
“Thanks, brother.”
He nodded, glancing at Ally.
“She needs you here, Reacher. I can understand that. You did the right thing.”
Never misses a trick, this boy.
“Thank you. So… apart from our uh… guest downstairs, anything else I need to know about?”
Stitch nodded. “Ice is improving, and they think he can come home in a day or so. Not that he’s acting at all like himself, but then… when was the last time any of us experienced him without some kind of chemical intoxication? He’s edgy, he’s snappy, and he’s scared of something, or someone. I don’t know. Maybe a residual paranoia from all the shit he’s been on, or the detox. He’s gonna need some serious support either way though.”
Hell. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I guess I was naïve enough to imagine him slotting right back into his place here, and our stress levels reducing straight away.
