One to Chase (One to Hold 7)

I can’t help noticing a slight flinch in Marcus’s smile at Patrick’s words. “I was glad to be here,” he says. “I was glad she called me.”

Elaine gives him a proud smile. “You’re always the rock.”

Oh, if they only knew, would all of this be different?

I can’t linger over it. Fatigue presses on my forehead like heavy weights. Taking Marcus’s arm, I allow him to lead me out of the hospital and back to Sylvia’s place.

* * *

Marcus

She’s quiet as we walk

the few blocks to the condo. Gusts of wind sweep through the tall buildings crinkling the plastic bag holding her lunch and throwing my tie over my shoulder. I came straight from work when she called. The events of this morning, my conversation with Paige, all of it seems like ancient history now.

My feelings for Amy burn at the forefront of my mind. Paige is settled, and I’m ready to head back in, pick up where we left off, stay with her until she surrenders the fight and agrees to be mine.

As soon as she’s recovered from her mother’s crisis, of course.

The entire walk, our hands don’t entwine. I don’t want to push her. Standing in front of the tall condo building, I can’t help remembering the last time we were in this same place together. She’d run out of Studio O after I’d shown up with Paige. I’d come after her once I’d realized she was on the streets alone.

“Charmed life,” I say, thinking of how wrong that night could have gone.

“What?” She looks up at me, confusion lining her beautiful face.

“Just thinking of the last time we were here. The guy you dropped a fifty on following you. That could have been very bad.”

“Oh.” Her expression relaxes and she shakes her head. “You’re right.” She’s quiet a beat before she finishes. “I guess I’d reached my quota on bad things for that night.”

Her words sting, but I’m not convinced she means them the way they come across. Judging by her far-away expression, I’m pretty sure she’s giving me another fleeting glimpse of her past.

Or she could simply be exhausted.

“Don’t get cocky.” I catch her chin and give her a gentle smile. “Be safe.”

She gives me a weary smile in return. “Make good choices. Don’t do drugs.”

Damn I want to kiss her. I want to sweep her into my arms and love all this pain away. It seems too much in view of the day’s events, so I step back.

“Get some rest, beautiful. I’ll check on you in the morning.” Her hand lightly touches mine, and I lift her fingers to my lips, giving them a soft kiss.

Her eyes smolder, and I hesitate. I’ve seen that look before, specifically when she first stepped on the cruiser the day we took pictures for the website—the day that quickly turned into one of the best two days of my life.

She blinks it away just as fast. “Thanks again.”

And with that, she pushes through the glass doors and is gone. I can’t help feeling empty, like it happened too fast. The gusts off the lake push my blazer open and mess with my tie. If you listen closely, you can probably hear them howling through the vacant spot in my chest where she belongs.

My agitation grows. Tracing the lines up the beige stone exterior of her building, I imagine her riding the elevator higher and higher, also alone. She gets off at their floor, goes into their condo, and what? Falls asleep? Why shouldn’t she? She had a hell of a day.

A rub to my hollow torso, and I turn to walk the blocks to my own place. Another sweep of wind through the skyscrapers, and it’s shaping up to be a nice spring evening. It’s the thought I had this morning when I decided to walk to work. I took a cab to the hospital, but now I want my goddamn car.

My insides ache, and I want a fucking drink. What the hell is this, post-traumatic stress? I didn’t deal with EMS trying to resuscitate my mother in front of my eyes today. I only had to see my love struggling through the after-effects of the trauma.

Two more blocks.

Mentally, I’m encouraging myself. It’s going to be a long night, but I have a bottle of whiskey, and I’m sure there’s a game on some channel. I’ve got five thousand channels and a fucking seventy-eight inch curved flatscreen television. If I can’t find anything worth watching, I’m going to throw it out the window.

I’m just at my building, pushing my way through the door when my phone lights up. When I see the name, I cough a laugh and lean against the wall for support. The words I’ve needed for so long glow up at me.