by Gray Gardner
“Okay, so when can I get out of here? My parents are driving me crazy!”
Being in the Justice Department’s hospital meant privacy and protection, but it also meant that non-blood relatives couldn’t visit patients. She really wanted to see Darby and Burton. More importantly, though, she wanted to know if they’d heard from Conrad.
“About that,” Nelson sighed, standing up. “I pulled some strings, and since your friends technically are federal agents, well, I got them in. See you soon. I expect you back at work before Christmas. It’s our busy time, you know.”
She turned and left, no amiable goodbyes. That was just the way she was. Just the way George liked it. Seconds later, Burton and Darby ran in and froze at the foot of the bed, Connor and Peterson close behind.
“S’up,” George grinned, setting her juice glass down. “Well, come on.”
They jumped on the bed and hugged her as carefully as they could.
“I knew you weren’t really dead!” Burton exclaimed, face buried in a pillow. “And when we got your texts we sent everything we had to St. Patrick’s, short of tanks and heavy artillery.”
“I can’t believe you survived a blast like that. I mean, the ship was blown in half,” Darby cried, resting her head against George’s shoulder.
“Well, according to Nelson, if you’re standing at the bow it’s the safest place to be, and the cold water helped my bleeding, and the raft washed me ashore in South Carolina.”
“South Carolina? Then they were making a delivery?” Burton said, then shook her head. “Who cares! You’re here now, and they aren’t.”
George was so appreciative of her friends. Nelson had explained how they’d risked everything to rescue her, and how their helicopter had crashed and then they were the ones needing rescuing. And she knew they’d do it all over again, too.
George cleared her throat as the girls sat up. She looked down at the white blanket in her hands and quietly asked, “How was everything at St. Patrick’s when you got there? I don’t remember much after getting Ashton…”
“After rescuing Ashton from certain death?” Darby asked, raising her brow. “It was total chaos! Byrd was denying everything, and all of the professors were pointing accusatory fingers at him. It was great. He’s going down for like, everything.”
Burton looked down at her friend and added, “Conrad Thomas never left your side. Only when you had to get into the ambulance and they said they were taking you to a DOJ secure facility. Even then we had to pry him away.”
George sighed and closed her eyes. She didn’t deserve him. He was good and kind and wanted nothing more than to help people. He’d even tried to help Dr. Byrd before he was discovered.
“Nelson said that Howard is somewhere in this hospital. Is Byrd, too?” she suddenly asked.
Darby shrugged and looked away as Burton rolled her eyes.
“Connor has reminded us how important it is that these men be brought to justice in the public eye, so they’re both here. Alive.”
“But?” George frowned, knowing that with these two there was more.
“Tragically,” Darby added, looking concerned, “the bullet wounds in Howard’s feet were healing, but someone accidentally scheduled him for a double amputation yesterday.”
George’s mouth dropped open. Anything was possible when it came to Ellie Darby. She grinned as Darby pressed her lips together and looked away as her husband came up from behind and took a hold of her shoulder.
“And someone is going over my knee for a paddling for that,” he said, frowning down at her. “You know you deserve it.”
“Ugh, fine,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.
“And understandably,” Burton continued, “Byrd’s arm was too far gone. They removed it from the joint. Too bad he was right handed.”
“What?” Connor asked, looking up from the bag of chips he’d been eating. “Damn it, Baylor, I told you to stop using that doctor’s credentials just so you can perform surgeries!”
“It was for a good cause,” she whined, looking up at him with big eyes.
“I know a good cause,” he retorted, pointing at the door. “We’re going to donate to the Kent Hairbrush fund and purchase a nice oval cherrywood today.”
George stared at her friends momentarily, then she couldn’t stand it. She broke out into a laugh and let her head fall back onto the pillow. Her ribs still ached and the bullet wound in her abdomen was slowly healing, but she couldn’t help but laugh. Everyone got theirs sometime.
“And I’m buying one for Ryan and Conrad, too,” he smirked, looking over as Ellie shook her head and mouthed, ‘why’ and Jane’s cheeks flushed the color of her pink hospital blanket on the foot of her bed.
“No thanks, Pete,” she replied.
“You won’t have a choice in the matter,” he winked, loving as each girl squirmed and refused to make eye contact.
“Well there’s no one to use it, anyway,” she softly said, looking down as her finger played with the satin edge of the blanket. For that purpose, at least.
“Are you joking?” Ellie asked, looking bewildered. “Conrad Thomas has been at every single hearing even though he knows they won’t let him in. He’s been to this facility seven times trying to find a way to you. You were gone, and he was completely broken. He loves you, Jane.”
She frowned as everyone in the room nodded. He loved her? But how could he? She’d been so horrible to him. She didn’t deserve him.
“And don’t think for one second that you don’t deserve him or I’ll bring that hairbrush back up here tonight,” Pete said with a smirk. “Don’t think I won’t.”
“Okay, jeez, I believe you,” Jane said, sinking down into her covers. They all believed in a happily-ever-after for her. So, what was next?
Conrad Thomas locked his office and walked through the heavy snow towards his house. The campus was quiet, something he still wasn’t used to. It had been a mad house for the past week or so, with cops and feds searching high and low, finding everyone’s alleged hiding places. Whitman and Clancy were not hard to break in the DOJ cells. The biggest surprise had been Dr. Byrd.
The secret room in his office had not only been a holding area for Jane and Ashton. The file cabinets folded out, heat lamps sank down, and he’d been cutting pure heroin in there for years. And Jane had figured it out in a matter of weeks. It shook him to the core. He’d trusted Howard and Byrd, and so had the students. Something like that was hard to come back from.
Ashton Wynn had made a full physical recovery, with only minor cuts and bruises to show for the whole ordeal. Emotionally, however, she’d probably never be the same. She was one of the students who would be returning for the spring semester, but on the condition that she could have personal security everywhere she went. Security across the campus was going to be tripled, as well.
Dr. McCarthy had agreed to take over as the new headmaster, and with the school’s reputation and several students consenting to return, she closed the school for the rest of December. It would open fresh and anew in mid-January, with a clean staff and hopefully clean kids.
He sighed heavily as he stomped the snow off of his Merrill’s on his front porch. What would everything be like next semester? The teachers would be horribly suspicious of every student, the students would be terrified of the administration, and nothing would ever be the same without Jane George in his classroom, trying like hell to ignore him as he vied for her attention.
He’d wanted to go and visit her, but he couldn’t get in, no matter how hard he’d tried. She’d been through a lot, and he knew now that her job was number one. Where would someone like him fit into her life, anyway?
He slammed the door behind him and froze in front of his living room. He blinked a few times and finally dropped his satchel at his feet.
“Jane.”
She finally took a breath when he said her name. It always sounded so good coming from him. When she’d broken in through his bathroom window, she half expected to
find him cooking in the kitchen or entertaining a woman. She’d been standing alone in the middle of the room for almost twenty minutes. Thinking.
There she was, a little pale, a little gaunt, but she’d been half dead and in and out of hospitals for days. Her jeans hung loosely on her hips, her dark green sweater hung off of her shoulders. He shook his head and held out his hand, trying to step forward and say something. Anything. But what would he say first? He didn’t have to decide. She held her hand up, telling him to stop.
“Please,” she began, obviously able to enunciate again. Her face was still dark with a bruise and healing scars, and the cast on her arm and brace on her leg made her only appear helpless. Apparently, she wasn’t helpless enough to not let herself in to his place. It made him smile to think about it.
“Jane, I—”
“Just, wait,” she interrupted, licking her dry lips and stepping forward. “I need to say this first.” She took a breath. “I… when I was unconscious I had this dream.”
“Can’t we talk about that later?” he asked, stepping forward again. He wanted to sweep her up in a hug. He wanted her to cry on his shoulder and squeeze back. Why was she acting so cold?
“Please, I need to say this first,” she asserted, holding her hand up again and taking a step back. She did look like she might cry, but he couldn’t figure out why. She didn’t look very happy to be there. What was she doing? It was killing him to be so close and not be able to touch her.
“What?”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she simply stated, letting her arms fall to her sides as she looked calculatingly into his eyes.
What did that mean? He was the one who didn’t want to hurt her. She was all busted up and had nearly died. He gave her a confused look.
She repeated her earlier declaration. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Jane, I know—”
“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head and stepping forward. “When you said those things to me. All of those things right before I disappeared and went to New York with Byrd, you and I fought about what our jobs meant to us, but I think we were really fighting about how easily we could hurt one another.”
“And I didn’t mean some of the things I said.” He swallowed. Where was she going with this?
“I know,” she nodded, her face finally relaxing and a slight grin curling on her lips. “I know you didn’t. And I know you wouldn’t have said all that unless you loved me. But you never said it. You never told me that you loved me.”
He exhaled and rubbed his forehead, looking at the floor as he rested a hand on his hip. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to say it. How in the hell was she so confident in knowing that he felt like that, anyway? Now she was the one being arrogant.
“Look,” he began, but she surprisingly broke in again.
“I know why you can’t tell me, though,” she said, taking another step forward. “And you should know I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”
“This is not how I wanted to do this,” he nervously said, scratching his head. He’d had many fantasies about their reunion, and this was definitely not one of them. Sweeping meadows, a little rolling around by a bubbling brook, sure. But her declaration that she wasn’t going to hurt him? It made him feel weak.
“Why can’t we just trust each other?” she asked, a few feet away now. “I’m not the only person in this room who’s been hurt before.”
“Your husband died.”
“And your fiancé rejected you on what was supposed to be a very happy day,” she nodded, right in front of him. “That doesn’t give your fear any merit?”
“What fear?”
“Of telling me that you love me,” she softly said, looking up at him with her big, blue eyes.
“I’m not afraid to tell you,” he huffed, taking a breath. He’d prayed and bargained for the chance to right all the wrongs when Jane had gone missing, but now he was finding it so difficult to articulate what he felt.
She suddenly reached out and placed her good hand and her casted right hand on his navy Patagonia. “I’m not going to hurt you, Conrad. I love you. I don’t think I could ever love anyone like I love you. You’re kind, and smart, and selfless. I don’t ever want to be anywhere else unless you’re there.”
He fought the urge to resist her and argue that he wasn’t afraid, and he couldn’t keep the smile from his face. She made it so easy. She had done all the work, now he just had to say it. Just say it. Damn it, you idiot! Say it!
She stopped smiling and gave him a more desperate look as she waited. She was so adorable and beautiful, he only wanted to kiss her at that moment. He leaned down, but she quickly stepped back.
Now there were real tears in her eyes, and a look of rejection on her face. But he wasn’t rejecting her! He didn’t want anyone but her. Forever. He wanted to hold her and taste her and spank her when she was bad and never let her out of his sight again. He just needed to say it. She needed to know.
Nothing happened. His heart beat in his throat as the image of her empty casket being lowered into the ground flashed through his mind; the image of himself in the mirror, unrecognizable with a beard and unkempt hair; the sound of his sister crying into the phone as he yelled at her to leave him the hell alone; of his older and younger brother coming to his house and shoving him against the wall, telling him everything would be all right over and over until he broke down in sobs.
Jane waited with misery in her eyes for only a minute longer.
She slowly shook her head and began limping towards the bathroom. He wanted to scream. He loved her more than anything. He rubbed his temples. Say it out loud!
“Jane!” he called, bouncing forward and running through his living room and around the corner.
The bathroom door was locked. He banged on it and called her name, frantically pushing his shoulder into it and begging her not to go. Why was he such a moron? Why couldn’t he just say how he felt? He wasn’t afraid of her, he knew it. He just needed to make sure that she knew it, too. He hated himself for not being able to just say it. He hated how he’d made her feel.
Turning on his heel, he sprinted through his kitchen and burst out of the back door, the evening sun emitting little heat, and chills running up and down his spine as he stared at his empty, snow-covered driveway. She was gone.
“Jane!” he called, running to his gate and pushing it open. He looked up and down the paved road behind the perimeter walls of the school. He grabbed his hair and pulled as he cursed for about two minutes. Even when severely injured she was faster than he was.
He finally sighed, the wetness from the snow seeping through his jeans, and began shuffling back to his house. He’d have to call her, call her friends, do anything to convince her that he was totally nonsensical and a fucking imbecile.
There were no excuses now. It was all on him. He couldn’t blame the gold digger for leaving him; that was years ago. He couldn’t blame his family; they’d expressed enthusiastic approval after hearing him talk about her incessantly. And she’d done most of the driving, even coming out and making it so fucking easy for him. It was all on him.
And now he’d never know what would have happened if he’d just said how he felt.
Then he heard something moaning from his bushes. He paused and listened.
“I think I broke something else.”
He gasped and trod through his landscaping, falling to his knees next to the neatly trimmed bushes underneath the bathroom window.
“Jane?” he smiled, as she grimaced up at him and held out her arms. He gently reached down and pulled her out, leaning back and sitting on the snow with her in his lap.
“Definitely shouldn’t try crawling through a window with a broken arm and a leg in a brace. Aw, yep.” She nodded, wincing as she looked down at her tennis shoe. “I broke my toe.”
“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, holding her close.
“It’s hard for someone in my condition to get a
nywhere.”
“I can’t live without you,” he said, leaning back and holding her face in his hands. “Jane, I love you.”
She looked a little confused at first and then broke into a small grin. So, he was capable of not only feeling it, but saying it. She’d never really lost faith. She’d planned on him catching her walking around the outside of the campus walls to her car and declaring himself a total imbecile.
But this was good, too.
“And, you were right. I’m so afraid. But, I guess that’s what makes you so great. You make me feel—less afraid.”
“Eloquently said, Mr. New York Best Seller.” She smirked.
“I’m really trying here,” he said, releasing her face and wrapping his arms around her again.
“I know,” she nodded, looking away. “But, you should know that you don’t have to try so hard with me.”
“I’ll never stop trying for you,” he grinned, pushing her up to her feet, then standing and brushing the snow off of his wet jeans. “Let’s go get that toe set.”
She hesitated, and he repeated his earlier statement. But he’d said it. Not the toe thing, he’d told her that he loved her. And it was weird and a little late, but it was perfect. He was perfect. The moment was perfect.
“It can wait,” she quickly said, not able to resist anymore as she grabbed him and pulled him closer. She stood up on her good toes and balanced by holding his sweater with her good hand, then pressed her lips hard against his.
He responded with just as much enthusiasm, running his fingers through her red hair and holding her head, keeping her close as he kissed her. They both felt the electricity. The air was thick with it.
They knew that even though they’d found other people first, there was no denying that they were meant for each other.
“Oh yeah, I got something in the mail for you,” Conrad sighed happily as he walked back in the house with her tucked into his side. He picked it up off of his kitchen counter and handed it to her. Her flushed cheeks made him grin.
“This isn’t mine,” she argued, dropping the large wooden oval brush onto the countertop.