Page 88 of Love Bound

Nic and Bryce joined me at the hospital an hour ago, telling me about the retrieval of Miller's body. How they’d turned over Nic's gun to the coast guard for ballistics and that I’d have to give a statement.

Soon.

Nic had handed me the card of the lead investigator.

I just texted my statement to the guy on my phone, told him to print it off and I'd sign it. I think he should thank me for saving him time.

Time.

How much more time will this take?

I can wait.

Nic brings me a lobster roll from a food truck outside. “Typical Maine experience,” he tries to joke, but his face is ashen.

Bryce, too, is quiet.

I can't eat.

Their story is horrific. How Bryce had discovered Miller's place was empty when the neighbor's dog started barking and Miller never made an appearance. How this made Bryce first pound and then break down the door. Inside, across his shitty bed, were wigs, dresses, high heels, and Bryce remembered a leggy blonde leaving at seven ten that morning.

A prostitute, he had thought.

I figure it was the same woman who handed Cory a cherry tart. Later, Laurel would say the woman looked “odd.”

Miller was a sociopath. It had all been planned for Claire's birthday.

Bryce had tried to call Claire, but the landline had been cut. He’d called Nic, and Nic couldn't reach me. Then there was the fire.

The thirty-five-minute helicopter ride was hell for Bryce, not knowing what was going on and not being able to communicate with Nic or me even when the radio was within range. He had called the local police, and the fire station, and David Keller had called the Burkes. Ralph said he'd just seen her shushing the Salty back in the corral. That was just before Bryce landed and relayed the message to Nic who broke down the office door, not knowing what they would find. All they could be sure of then was that Miller was going to kill Claire.

Miller had let the horse out, knowing she'd leave the doors unlocked for her patient, and it would give him time to set up inside. Miller had staged it all—even had her layout the anesthesia for an animal her own weight.

I felt wrung out. Before Nic and Bryce leaves, Nic drops an apple on the little table by her bed. "For you, buddy. Need to eat."

Half an hour later, A soft sigh rises easily from the bed and there's a small shift under the blankets.

Staring at her, half rising, I hold her hand to my chest as she blinks her way to consciousness.

Another shift under the covers.

"I'm hot," she murmurs, her voice so soft, with a rasp from all the abuse her throat has suffered.

"I love you," I say. "Welcome home."

She tilts her head to see me better. Then her eyes widen. I know she must be remembering things, but probably not entirely. Flashes of what happened, coupled with what could have happened. I know, because that's what I've been doing for the last four hours.

"He's dead," I say simply. It's best to keep it simple. At least for now. She will have to relive all of this in a few days when she gives her own statement, but for now, I just want her to get stronger.

She closes her eyes for a moment, so she doesn't see me lean down to kiss her on the forehead. When I pull back, she whispers, "Come lay next to me."

Carefully, I move her to one side, being mindful of the IV as I ease into bed with her. The hospital bed's catch must not be completely locked, as the whole thing slips a half-inch with a clatter. I freeze, waiting for hospital nurses to come running, but no one makes an appearance. I lie on top of the sheets on my side and she tucks her head into my neck, where I feel her breath on my skin.

I am not thinking about the future—not thinking about threats or egresses or unlocked windows or doors or what might go wrong. All I know for sure is she is right here next to me and she's alive. Every small sigh, every moment, is a miracle.

The present, for the first time in a very long time, is a nice place to be.

I listen to her breathe.