Page 101 of Returned Mail

“We've never met,” she whispers, half-smiling in disbelief.

I shake my head slowly. “I know.”

“But I feel like I know you.” Her eyes fill again.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “You do.”

“I'm not going anywhere, George.”

I nod, slow, aching, grateful. “Good,” I whisper. “Because I want you here. I want…you.”

Her fingers tighten gently around mine. And I let myself smile, even through the pain. Because in this moment, after five days of unconsciousness, five months of letters, thousands of miles, it all resolves into this… She’s here, and I get to finally meet her.

Chapter Thirty-One

George

“Hale, you have a visitor!”

The nurse announced from the door. A visitor? I have no one out there. The only person that I need is right here, and has been right here in this hospital with me.

“Who?”

“Oh, old man, you look like shit.”

I fucking hate this guy, but the fact that he is here makes hating him a little less. “What are you doing here, Mack?”

“Well, I asked the Sergeant for a couple of hours, since the mission is a bust now. Oops, I wasn't supposed to say that. Anyway, how are you holding up? You scared the shit out of me back there.”

“I'm fine,” I grumbled, shifting against the pillows. The movement sent a dull ache through my side, but I wasn't about to let him see me wince. “Takes more than that to put me down permanently.”

“Yeah, well, you did a pretty good impression of a corpse for a minute there.” Mack pulled up the chair beside my bed and dropped into it like he owned the place. “Seriously though, man. How's the recovery going?”

“Slow. Boring as hell.” I gestured vaguely at the IV drip. “They've got me on the good stuff, but not good enough to make daytime television interesting.”

Mack snorted. “What, you don't enjoy watching middle-aged women argue about who the baby daddy is?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Could be worse. You could be dead.”

“Thanks for that uplifting observation, asshole.”

He grinned, that stupid cocky grin that made me want to punch him and buy him a beer at the same time. “That's what I'm here for. Moral support and brutal honesty.”

“How's everyone else?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “The team holding up okay?”

“Yeah, we're good. Mitchell's been running drills like a madman, probably trying to work out his feelings about almost losing your ugly face.” Mack leaned back, crossing his arms. “Rodriguez keeps asking when you're coming back. I think he misses having someone to complain to about his ex-wife.”

“Tell him I miss his bitching too.”

“Will do.” Mack's expression softened slightly, just for a second. “For real though, George. We're glad you made it.”

Something tightened in my chest. I wasn't good at this—the sincere shit, the emotional vulnerability. But Mack had been there, had probably seen me at my worst, covered in blood and barely conscious.

“Yeah, well,” I said, clearing my throat. “I'm too stubborn to die. You know that.”

“Damn right you are.”