Page 69 of Letting Go

Suddenly, she looks right up at me and takes my face in her hands and the next thing her lips are pressed to mine, her tongue is trying to find mine and her breath is warm against my face. She shudders again and as she pulls back there are tears in her eyes.

I need to get her home. I have to get her into bed. I just want to take care of her. I want her to feel protected and warm and safe and not violated. She takes a step forward and almost falls.

"Dizzy," she says. "I don't know if I can make it to the boat." In a second, I've got her in my arms like a child. She leans her head against my shoulder. A tear slips down her face.

"Don't cry," I say, "Please don't cry."

"I'm not. I'm just—I'm just so glad to see you."

Finn's finished with the photos and takes the lead down the path. As soon as Mateus sees us he sets out the boat's medical bag.

I carry her aboard, and Finn digs out two wool blankets but before I can tuck them around her, Mateus takes a blood pressure reading and examines the cut on her head.

Two cuts. One on the side by her right ear and one up past her right temple.

"She definitely needs some food and she's a little dehydrated," he said. "We need to get her to the mainland. In the meantime," he lines up a sugar and salt packet evenly and tears them open simultaneously. Next, he dumps them into a wide mouth thermos of plain water. "This will do. Just drink it slowly."

Her thin throat works with the effort. By the time she's finished, Finn casts us off and Mateus revs the engine. The fog is burning off and our trip back will be even shorter. Mateus pulls the Steely Gray around and steers us to open sea and back to Portland.

"We have to get Reed," is all she says brushing her hair away with the back of one hand. A smear of dirt remains on her face and I wipe that away with my thumb. Though I am vaguely aware of Finn taking pictures, all I know is that Chloe is alive, breathing, in my arms and I swear to God I am never letting her go.

Chloe sits still, staring straight ahead. It’s not until I slip an arm around her that she shifts her gaze to my face.

"I knew you were coming," she says, and then she sighs and drags my hand under the blanket, interlocking her fingers with mine.

Somehow, I am happy. Her long body sags against mine, and the warmth of the curve of her cheek, her neck, her chin as she sets her head against my shoulder is exquisite. She's exhausted.

As we approach the pier back in Portland, Mateus starts cutting the motor, her head nods back, and she raises her chin to me, opening her eyes briefly.

"Kiss me," she whispers, her head resting on my chest.

Before I can say anything, think anything, her warm lips press mine, soft, gently fervent, alive. She pulls away, offering a little shaky sigh.

God, I love this woman.

By the time Mateus idles up to the dock, we have the gist of the story. Her version is factual, clipped, no drama, and ends with her cutting herself out of her bonds and then tottering on a broken chair trying to find the lightbulb that was just of reach. Just as she heard us, the chair broke, so she picked up the pieces and hurled them against a wall so we'd hear her. For some reason, she couldn't scream for help.

Couldn’t scream.

I don’t want Finn pushing for details. I can tell he's mad, but not as fucking mad as I am. Kidnapping her, hurting her, retraumatizing her? Putting her in the same shitty scenario she fled from? What a fucking monster.

The first fifteen minutes she told her story, with no drama, efficiently and uninterrupted. The last fifteen she finally dozed, exhausted.

When I felt her slump against me, asleep, I flipped through Finn's pictures. Foam mattress on the floor, a bowl of apples, some bottled water. A toothbrush and a pail.

Reed is going to pay.

And then a close-up of an old-fashioned razor blade on the ground and the wooden chair she smashed to let us know where she was.

I kissed the top of her head. Chloe is amazing.

Dark thoughts flit across my mind and twice, I see Mateus look over his shoulder at the two of us sitting close. I try to keep the flapping ends of the blankets tucked around her.

If we hadn’t found her….

Claire waits right next to the dock. Her hair catches the morning light. Finn waves to her as Mateus, who has said nothing the entire trip back, expertly slides us into the slip.

Chloe stirs as he cuts the engine, wiping her face with a hand and shifting under the pile of blankets.