Page 167 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
“Callie, you’re allowed to be upset about this. You’re allowed to mourn the life you had before the accident, no matter how much it’s changed. It’s normal, and completely acceptable. Expected, even.”
I look up into the doctor’s eyes. Browns and greens swirl together in his irises. They’re sincere. He’s not just placating me. It makes me feel a little better about thinking my passion has been ripped from my life without mercy.
“Thank you,” I say honestly. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiles again, then gestures to Torren. “Your fiancé got me out of bed at midnight and chartered a jet from Chicago so I could be the surgeon that took care of you. I’m honored to help.”
When the doctor leaves with a plan to see me in three weeks, I turnmy attention to Torren. He’s smirking, but he almost looks bashful. I arch a brow, and he talks without me even having to ask.
“I told them I was your fiancé. They wouldn’t tell me anything and your mom can’t drive, so Damon had to go pick her up, but it was taking forever because of the accident clean up on the freeway, and I was going out of my mind. I’m not sorry for doing it, and I would do it again. It was the only way I knew about your hand, and it’s why I was able to make all those calls.”
I stare him down for a minute, but I don’t bother trying to hide the smile that curves my lips. I also don’t fight the tears that, once again, well in my eyes.
“Thank you. Seriously. I just...I don’t know what I would have done without you. You didn’t have to do it, but I’m so grateful you did.”
Something sad flickers in his green eyes, but it disappears quickly, and he smiles.
“I’m in love with you. Don’t you know that by now? I’d set myself on fire if I knew you’d rise from the ashes, Firebird. I would do anything for you. I’m in love with you. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” I whisper, my chest warming with the truth I hear in his words. “Me, too.”
43
TORREN
“Yeah,this is Torren King. I’m returning a call.”
I take a drag from my cigarette and blow the smoke through my nose while the receptionist puts me on hold. For the tenth time since dialing this number, I look through the glass doors that lead to my bedroom. Callie is still sleeping, and if tonight is anything like every other night since she was discharged, she’ll be out for at least a few more hours.
When the hold music clicks off, I don’t bother turning back around. I don’t care about the view from my terrace. The view of Callie, sleeping soundly in my bed, is much more appealing. More than that, even. It’snecessary.
Lately, I have to remind myself not to stare at her. It makes her uncomfortable—she’s sensitive about the lacerations—but I need frequent reassurance. I need to know, for certain, that she’s here and safe. She’s alive. I need to know that I’m not going to wake up from this dream only to realize I’m actually living a nightmare.
I blink away the images that try to invade my mind and take another long drag from my cigarette as a familiar voice on the other end of the phone greets me. The same voice I heard in my voicemail inbox yesterday.
“Mr. King, hello. This is Detective Gallagher. We met at the hotel a few weeks ago.”
“I remember.” I flick the charred end of my cigarette into the ashtray, once again forcing away memories of that night. “I’m assuming this is about my brother.”
“It is. I wanted to let you know that we’ve apprehended your brother. He returned to your mother’s house in Florida two nights ago. We had the house under surveillance, so we were able to arrest him before he even made it through the front door.”
I wait for the surge of sympathy. Of guilt. The emotions used to be inevitable any time my brother or mother were the topic of conversation. That internal conflict has always been familiar and insistent, so I tense for it. I expect it. I stay silent for several breaths, preparing for even a flicker of pain.
It doesn’t come.
“Okay,” I say on an exhale. “Thank you for telling me. What happens next?”
“Well, he violated probation by crossing state lines and being in possession of a firearm, so he’s going back in for that alone. If you’re planning to press charges?—”
“I am.”
The answer comes without hesitation as I watch the comforter on my bed rise and fall with Callie’s steady breathing. Sean is the reason Callie left the hotel that night. He’s the reason I almost lost her. She’d never have?—
I squeeze my eyes shut again and give my head a shake to clear the images before setting my attention back on Callie’s sleeping body.
She’s alive. She’s here. She’s safe.
“Anything else we can use against him, I want to do it,” I add calmly. “The threatening letters he sent to Savannah. The flowers he sent to Callie. The pictures he took of her sister. I want them to use it all. I don’t want him to ever get released. He deserves a life behind bars.”
