“O’Hara told me you were awake,” he says. “How are you—”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “How’s Lucy?”
“She…um,” Justin says, voice quaking, “physically okay. Broken arm. Mentally, um, she hasn’t said a word since I found her.”
“She’ll be okay. It’ll just take time.” I bunch the covers in my hands, ringing them. Even this hurts. “She saved my life.”
“You saved hers.”
We don’t speak for a few gut-wrenching seconds, the only noise coming from my heavy breathing.
“Jo, I—”
“You’re sorry. I know you’re sorry. You don’t need to say it.”
“I wanted to tell you. A hundred million times I did. The words just wouldn’t come out. And then…I was just so scared of how’d you react. That I’d lose you, and that I could not take. You of all people should know what that’s like.”
I don’t respond for a few seconds, my brain working to find the right words. My supposed gift. “I get why you did what you did,” I say, still wringing the sheets with my hands. “I understand the logic of it, I do. You were scared of how I would react. You were scared I’d look down on you, not be able to get past it. That I needed protecting from the dark side of your life. My head gets that. It does. My heart…” I shake my head. “Nope.” I wipe the falling tears with my less damaged hand. “You didn’t trust me. You betrayed me every day by not trusting me when…” I stop the sob from escaping, and take a second to compose myself. “You were my best friend, my confidante, the man I’ve been in love with for twenty years. You were my world. You were my hero. And now…” I shake my head with a wry chuckle. “You let me think I was responsible for Rebecca’s death. You kept much needed information from me and the police about a man who just tried to kill me. You didn’t say a damn word as I bared my secrets to you, and then turned around and used them to make yourself feel better at my expense. And you chose revenge over my well-being. You broke my heart. And for that I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”
I finally look up at him. His eyes are as brimming with tears. He wipes the offenders away and hangs his head. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But you did.”
He slowly nods. This is it and we both know it. We’ve lost each other. We’re broken. “Okay,” he whispers back. “Okay.” He takes a ragged breath and turns around. “Good-bye, Joanna.”
In a flash, he’s gone.
“Good-bye, rich boy.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SURVIVORS
“Harry, did you remember to buy suntan lotion?”
When he doesn’t answer I walk out, or more accurately limp out of the bedroom in search of him. I find him in the living room, phone pressed to his ear and looking none too happy. “Can it wait until after I get back?” He listens, and then sighs. “I don’t have…fine. Be there when I can.” He slaps the phone shut.
“The office again, dear?”
“We just have to swing by on the way to the airport. It’ll take ten minutes, I promise.” He kisses my nose. “And I packed plenty of suntan lotion.” He kisses me again and walks into the bedroom.
Our first official trip together. Sandals, Jamaica, here we come. Sun, sand, and hopefully lots of sex. Paradise. I follow him into the bedroom to continue packing. I toss the books from my nightstand into the suitcase. As a rule I’m not much of a reader, but in my three conscious days at the hospital I managed to read every magazine ever published. Twice. Not that I plan on doing much reading in Jamaica, wink wink. I may look as if I’ve been to war but damned if I’ll let that stop me from enjoying a tropical island with my awesome boyfriend. I’ll just keep the blistering burn on my arm covered. Don’t want Harry or the other guests to vomit in the umbrella drinks.
V was kind enough to buy me some clothes while I was in the hospital since everything I own is nothing but ash. Nobody was killed, thank God, but all residents had to move out until it’s rebuilt to code. So I’m homeless, clothes less, and recovering from a coma. If ever there was a time for a vacation.
Loose ends first. When we arrive at the station, half the people nod to me with reverence and the other half come up and shake my hand. I could get used to being a hero. The squad room is back to its old self, quiet even. Cam, Mirabelle, and Kowalski aren’t at their desks, but the support staff smile when they see me. As Harry goes into his office to sign some incident reports and budget analysis, I plop down at my desk. Well, my old desk. I won’t be returning to Priority. When I’m cleared for duty, I’ll be working Vice. I’ve had enough death for the time being. Hookers and gambling are more my speed now.