Page 77 of Letting Go

"He's fine," she said. "The bullet grazed his head and a chunk of glass knocked him out. You saved him."

This is too much for me right now. All I can think about is how beautiful she looks.

"Mateus says this is the second time you've quote, 'saved his ass' and now he says you're going to be unbearable."

Her mouth is gorgeous, supple. She licks her lips. And I try to lift my hand to stroke her cheek, but my arm is too heavy. I struggle to shift my weight.

"Don't move. I mean try not to move. Do you want me to fix your pillows do you want to be up higher? The nurse said once you came round, we could elevate you a little. I think she said forty degrees."

I nod and there's a buzz and then my horizon line shifts and it's easier to look at her. No more ceiling. My eyelids are so heavy. Then a memory flits again. I'm mumbling. Slurring.

"Mateusisgood?"

"Mateus is fine."

My eyes close.

The third time's the charm, though I wake not to Chloe's lips or kisses but to a young, terrified looking nurse who is trying to move me. An hour later Finn and Claire file in with Nic, Mateus checks in a little later and I am so relieved to see him he laughs.

"You don’t have to say anything man, I get it."

"I'm just really glad you tracked me down and found me. Found us."

He slips me a prescription, stuffing it into an overnight bag Finn or Chloe threw on the other chair in the corner. "You're going to need this more than I am, boss."

Even in my drugged state, there's something in the way he says "boss" that rings strangely.

"Where's Chloe?"

"She's coming back down. Claire made her go home and get some rest. She does have a concussion—not bad, but she needs to take it easy."

I doze after he leaves. The next time I wake, it's to a tap on the door.

Jackson wings in, his youth and exuberance filling the room. He calls me "Old Man," sometimes even though I'm only five years his senior, and I'm a little embarrassed he doesn’t use it today. It means he thinks I'm still not strong enough to be kidded.

With each visitor, the story fills out. He explains how he spotted the rifle on top of the garage and almost immediately he and Finn began escorting participants quietly from the roof.

Raymond, however, was frantic to find his brother and Jackson had to basically strong-arm the guy from the rooftop. Things unfolded so fast, the coals were never even lit.

"What happened to Raymond?"

Jackson's face falls and he points to the door. "I was getting to that."

Following Jackson's gaze, I see the man I was so angry with I could have killed him as well. Raymond Clifton.

The guy is a shadow of his former self. His suit is rumpled, his hair tousled, no gel. I don’t know what he wants, but when he asks, "Can I come in?" I nod. He pulls up a chair and wipes his face with both hands, resting his elbows on his knees. Jackson takes flight, leaving the two of us alone.

"I am so sorry my brother did this to you and your friends. They told me about him kidnapping Chloe. I've given a full statement to the police. I think they're going to question you this afternoon. But I want you to know how sorry I am."

"No need to apologize, it's not your fault." Here's the weird thing: I meant it. This man, this man who I blamed for putting Chloe into danger, for not telling us the truth of why he hired us, this man who lay in the crosshairs of my anger, was trying to just do the best thing by his brother.

But he didn’t feel that way. "It's my fault. In a strange way, Reed has always been my fault. Maybe I didn't give him enough brotherly attention. Maybe I didn't help him find an avenue for his calling. A more appropriate avenue. I did come here under false pretenses and for that, I will forever apologize."

"Really. I don't need—"

"But I need to. The only reason Reed didn't shoot me from that rooftop is because he called the Marina and was told you all had left for the hotel." He shakes his head and then straightens up in his chair. "I'm giving up what I do for a living. I don't think I can offer people advice or hope. Maybe I am some sort of false prophet after all."

Nic's words came back to me, repacked in a way I could hear them.