“Yes.”
She gave him a playful look. “How long have you been awake?”
“I don’t know…”
“Oh, Robbie.” She put down her sketchbook and came over. “How do you feel? Can I get you anything?”
So many questions. He shook his head, unsure how to answer.
She touched the bed. “Can I?”
“Yes.” That was all he really wanted. Her there.
She lowered herself down, carefully, so as not to disturb him and his suspended leg, which was caged in a complicated-looking set of rods and joints. Dimly, he recalled a nurse telling him about it.
She winced. “Jesus, look at that crazy thing. Are there hydraulics in there?”
“God, it’s good to see you,” he whispered.
“Seriously, how do you feel?”
“Better,” he said. “I guess.”
She smoothed her hand over his forehead, a little like a mother, and a little like a lover. “You scared me. And everyone.” She swallowed something back.
He’d lost a lot of blood. He’d almost lost the leg. Somebody medical had told him that. “I know,” he said.
“They didn’t let me see you forever, but they won’t keep me away now. Try to get rid of me and watch what happens.” She straightened his sheets. “You’re going to be okay.”
He nodded. He knew he would. He felt such hope now. Like a welcome new guest.
“Here.” She held a cup with a straw in front of him and he sipped, and then she put it aside. “Jesus Christ. The Monk. All this time it’s you.”
“Was me.”
She knit her coiffed brows. “I’m so sorry, Robert. I’m just so, so sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be. It was my journey. Mine.”
“Nevertheless.”
He felt such a sense of lightness, remembering how she’d used to say that—whatever the obstacle, the objection, she’d always just cross her arms. Nevertheless. She took his hand and they just sat there. Even the hospital sounds seemed to recede against her strong presence. He was feeling more awake, too. The water had helped.
“Does it hurt?”
She meant his leg, but he was thinking about how much he still loved her. “It feels good right now, but it doesn’t always.”
“Is there anything I can do? Anything you want?”
He didn’t know how to answer that. He wanted it not to hurt.
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you thinking of curly fries?”
He laughed hoarsely. “Definitely not.”
The way she looked at him now, he knew what she imagined he was thinking. He pressed a hand onto her thigh, not at all seriously, considering his condition.
“This is a hospital, Mister. Anybody could walk in and see.”
“Is that such a big problem for a memory revisionist?”
Sophia bit her lip. He didn’t know why he said it. He didn’t mean to hurt her, but he wasn’t one to gloss over something.
“I’m done with that.”
“Done?” he asked. “Meaning, never again?”
“Yeah, I’m just off it.” She smoothed her hand over the back of his. “Hey, if they walk in, they walk in. Let them see and remember. Let everyone remember everything. Let the chips fall where they may. That’s my new thing, baby.”
He stared, amazed. The fact that she was making light of it showed him what a big thing it was. Here was a highcap renouncing her power. “That’s huge, Sophia.”
“If four days is huge.” She shrugged. “But this is the longest I’ve gone. It’s hard and kind of a bummer, but it’s honest. And when I get in bed, I feel good that the day was true.” She touched the cage around his leg. “This is all traction stuff?”
“And then I think they’re going to put in titanium and pins and lord knows what.”
“Hopefully not the skeleton of an old farm silo.”
He smiled.
“I can’t believe I never recognized the Tangle for what it was. I looked at it every day—I can’t believe I didn’t see it. But I’ve been over there a lot. I’ve been looking at it a lot these past few days.
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“I like to. Why wouldn’t I?”
“It needs to be destroyed. Evacuated and destroyed.”
“Hell no,” she said. “I mean, yeah, it’s messed up, Robert.” She smiled. “It’s messed up in a totally awesome way.”
“No.”
“It’s awesome. It’s a part of your story, and a little bit our story.” She smoothed her hand along his arm. “I don’t want it to be erased. I say, fight for it. Punch through to the other side of it and find its transformative possibilities. I know you can find a way to make the Tangle something new and true and more itself. This whole goddamn city has been in darkness and despair, and the Tangle has been a symbol of that for people. You would erase that?”
He caught her gaze, held it. She hadn’t changed, he realized. She’d discovered herself. He felt like he was discovering her now, too. “Do it with me,” he said. “Let’s work on it together. Let’s work together again.”
“What? You would want to? After…”
“The revising bit was never you, Sophia. To run from the truth. It’s not you. I know you.”
“You don’t,” she said. “I have so much to make up for. You would be shocked to know some of the unforgivable things I’ve done. What I’ve stolen from people. I have a lot of big things to make right. I’m meeting with Shelby later on today—I have something to make right with her. I mean, you would be appalled.”
He wound his fingers in hers. “Let me be appalled then. Just don’t shut me out. Be anything but don’t shut me out.”
“I want to earn back your love.”
“You have it already, dude.”
Her eyes shone with tears. She tried to speak, then stopped a few times. His Sophia, she hated to cry. “Robbie,” she said. “Is this a ploy to get curly fries?”
“No.”
She shook her head, laughing, trying to shake off the cry, and then she nestled down next to him. They stayed lying like that, just silent together. Being together. They were back.
She kissed his cheek, a dry little kiss that was heaven.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
About MELJEAN BROOK
Meljean was raised in the middle of the woods, and hid under her blankets at night with fairy tales, comic books, and romances. She left the forest and went on a misguided tour through the world of accounting before focusing on her first loves, reading and writing–and she realized that monsters, superheroes, and happily-ever-afters are easily found between the covers, as well as under them, so she set out to make her own. Meljean lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband and daughter.
Visit her at www.meljeanbrook.com
About JILL MYLES
JILL MYLES is the author of Gentlemen Prefer Succubi, the first novel featuring sexy succubus Jackie Brighton, her supernatural sidekicks, and a few all-too-tempting villains. Jill lives in Texas with her family and can’t write a bio, so she’s using the official Pocket Books one.
Visit her at www.jillmyles.com
About CAROLYN CRANE
Carolyn Crane lives in Minneapolis with her husband and two daring cats. She spent years as a waitress and shop clerk before moving to ad agencies and the freelance writing life. She graduated from the University of Minnesota, and when she’s not writing novels or working her straight job, she can be found reading in bed, running, helping animals, or eating Mexican food.
Visit her at www.authorcarolyncrane.com
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