Page 38 of What Remains

I finally get my ass moving—literally—and ride out the wave of stinging pain as shit wakes up again. Then I somehow manage to get us both upright without my legs giving out on me.

“Ever since the crash,” I share, unsure whether I should open my mouth or not, “this happens from time to time. Usually only in the middle of the night. Not your fault.”

Her brows rise. “Just like the accident wasn’t yours?”

“Even now, you can’t help yourself, can you?” Why do I love that about her? Her unwillingness to give up on me even when I want to.

She shrugs, and for a split second, the Gwen I know is here with me without the weight of what happened to her hanging over her head. If only I could remove that weight for good.

“Come on, let’s find Zoey.” I gesture to the hall as if I know where I’m going, but I’ve never stepped foot in the place.

Carter always covers his bases, so I’m confident we’ll have whatever we need. I was fully prepared for the potential of escaping to the safe house with Zoey. Never thought I’d be going on the run with the woman I’d essentially run away from, though.

“This was Zoey’s op, right?” Gwen places her hand on the hall wall for support, dragging her fingers along the flower wallpaper as we walk.

“Yeah, and the odds we just so happened to be here in Vanuatu undercover with the same people who took you are impossible.”

“I don’t know,” Gwen says softly. “I’ve seen even more impossible things happen than that.”

Like the miracle of surviving that crash without being paralyzed. Also supposed to be impossible.

“Regardless of how this happened, they wanted my rig for something, and it can’t be good. She did say she wanted me alive to watch the destruction she does with it, but I thought she was just trying to mess with my head. And making sure those arseholes didn’t suspect she planned to crash the plane and kill us all.”

“Why don’t we hold off on the guesses until the others are here?” I’m not up for talking about this yet. Gwen’s safety is all that matters to me.

“Probably a good idea,” she agrees as her eyes go elsewhere.

Zoey’s standing in the hallway, and Gwen’s laser-focused on her hand. More specifically, to the wedding band still on Zoey’s ring finger.

I clear my throat like that’ll destroy the awkwardness I don’t understand but can feel in the air. “She’d, uh, like to shower and change. Which room can I take her to?”

“Upstairs. Third door on the right.” Zoey gestures down the hall. “Take the back stairwell. The room next to it has an assortment of men’s clothing in it for you. I showered and changed while you two were wrapping up your call.” Her voice is strong, but guilt lingers in her expression. This may have been her op, but this is far from her fault. “I’m going to go check the exterior property cameras. There’s a setup with screens in the office where I found the mobile.” She turns, only to stop and spin back around. “Unless you need my help up there?”

Right. Considering I wouldn’t help Gwen put on the jumpsuit while naked, she has to know I won’t exactly be getting in the shower with her.

“I think I can manage on my own.” Gwen offers her a polite smile, her gaze still dead set on Zoey’s ring.

You think we’re sleeping together. But why do you care?

Zoey catches where Gwen’s eyes are, and she holds up her hand and points to the ring. “The bloody thing is stuck.” She tosses me an apologetic look for some reason. “What about medical help, you good?”

“I’m fine.”

“Me, too,” I lie.

She nods and takes off, and Gwen doesn’t say another word—neither do I, for that matter—as we make our way to the bedroom upstairs.

She turns on the light and removes her sandals.

I stay in the hall and rest my hands against the doorframe, unsure whether I should join her.

Before I can even come up with a list of reasons why I should stay in the hall, she spins around and blurts out, “Are you two together?”

Well, that settles that. I’m coming in.

Her eyes narrow, and she blinks a few times as if shocked by her own words. “Not my business. Sorry. Don’t know where that came from.” She turns around and heads to the dresser, rummaging through the drawers for something to wear as if everything is normal. As if she didn’t just ask me about hooking up with Zoey. Thankfully not in those exact words, but that’s still how I heard it.

“No,” I finally answer, and she stills, her hands collapsing to her sides. “We’re not together. I always slept on the couch.” I take two more steps inside, and the material of that damn orange jumpsuit pinches down the middle as her shoulder blades draw together. “I’ve never thought about her in any way other than my teammate.”