We Are Us

Chapter 43 Florida

I’m pulled from sleep by a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. There is a crispness in the room that reminds me of fall. An odd, unsettling awareness of old things ending and new things begi

Almost… an intuitive sense of wrongness.

Outside it is dark, the lights overhead dimmed. It must be the middle of the night. My attention slides to the chair in the corner, expecting to see Sadie curled into a ball, dozing, even though I’d told her to go back to the hotel and get a decent night’s sleep in a real bed.

But it’s not my sister in the room with me. And the man in a dark suit with blazing blue eyes certainly isn’t sleeping.

“Gavin?” Confusion rattles inside my head like an iron chain. There is an FBI Agent waiting outside. Special Agent Gavin Cross. He said you know him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey.” Gavin stands up quickly, his hand closing around mine, the sweep of his thumb over my wrist like the stroke of a magic wand, taking me back in time. Back to our enchanted forest, back into the arms of a boy I loved with my whole heart.

So much has happened since then. I’m not prepared for the onslaught of memories and emotions, all of them trampling over raw, exposed nerves that are flayed open by too much hurt, too much heartache.

“Gavin.” I say his name again as tears overflow my lashes, ru

I don’t know how long I cry, how long Gavin holds me, whispering nonsensical words into my hair, gently rocking me in his embrace. It feels like days have passed before my tears slow and finally cease altogether, before I draw a breath that’s not just a hiccup of air. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” I finally say, my throat hollow and raw.

But Gavin just looks down at me, his expression tender. “Does that mean I have to let go of you?”

I give a little shake of my head. “Please don’t.”

He presses a kiss to my very damp temple. “Then I won’t.”

We fidget with the buttons of the hospital bed until it’s almost like an extra-wide La-Z-Boy recliner and he can squeeze in beside me. The atmosphere of the room is oppressive, weighed down by our past and my present, heavy with hidden memories, unspoken truths, and overlooked lies.

I don’t even know where to start, so after a few moments of strained silence, I reach for the lowest hanging fruit. “So, you’re an FBI agent now?”

“I am,” he says, flashing that crooked grin I remember so well. “Financial Crimes Unit.”

A thought crouches in the back of my mind for a split second before leaping off my tongue. “You’re investigating Tucker.”

It’s not a question, and it doesn’t even make any sense. Why would my husband be the subject of an FBI investigation? But Gavin nods. “Some of the business practices he implemented at Stockton Capital raised a red flag. We opened a case file on him and I asked to be assigned to it.”

The last time I saw Gavin was the week before my wedding, five years ago. Is he here because of me, or Tucker? Because of Tucker’s crimes, or his disappearance? “And that’s… That’s why you’re here now?”

He pushes out a deep sigh. “It’s how I knew to be here, but not why I’m here.”

I nod, although I’m not entirely sure what he means. “Am I in trouble?” I whisper, keeping my question deliberately vague.

“Not unless you were involved in your husband’s money laundering operation.”

Serves me right for not getting to the point.

What I really want to know, and I’m too afraid to ask, is whether Gavin suspects, or has any proof, that I’ve done something a hell of a lot worse than conspiring with my husband to commit white-collar crimes. I pluck at the tape securing my IV to the back of my wrist, deciding I’m in no rush to confirm my worst suspicions. Maybe, if I beat around the bush long enough, I’ll have an answer. Or maybe, like Sadie said, I’m better off not knowing. “Tucker was really laundering money?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been watching the news reports. There’s been no mention of that.”

“We haven’t released anything publicly yet.”

“So, you know more than what they’re saying on TV.”

“About your husband and his business, yes. The incident that put you in here is still under investigation.”

Fear digs sharp knuckles into my ribs. “What incident? I don’t remember anything. I tried to get Sadie to help me, but she said it’s best if I don’t remember.”

Gavin’s tone is gentle, his stare compassionate. “First, answer me this. If I’m here in an official capacity as an FBI agent, is there anything that you wouldn’t, or couldn’t, tell me?”

“What do you mean?”

“The charges against your husband are serious. And now, with the suspicions surrounding his disappearance—”

“What suspicions?”

“That it was staged. That he’s not dead but in hiding, somewhere without an extradition treaty, living off his stolen millions.”

I gulp at air. Gavin isn’t here because he believes I’ve killed Tucker. He’s here because he thinks I know where Tucker is.

If he’s right… Tucker is alive.

I didn’t kill him.

My head is pounding with this new information. These broken bits of knowledge I have to assemble into a coherent whole.

Tucker is alive… I didn’t kill him… He somehow staged his disappearance to evade criminal charges… And left me behind, holding the bag.

What. The. Fuck.

It sounds crazy. And ridiculous. Like the plot of a bad movie. And yet… it doesn’t feel wrong.

“So, I’m here,” I gesture wildly at my IV and bandages and machines, “trussed up like a mummy while Tucker’s living it up in the tropics, sipping mai tais? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Calm down,” he urges, which only inflames my temper more.

“Really? That’s the best advice you’ve got? How about we switch places, and every time you ask a question someone either tells you to stop asking or drugs you so that you can’t— Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re going to be okay.” Gavin’s grin brightens as he reaches for my face, cupping it reverently between his palms. “I was so fucking scared, Poppy. But now… Now I know you’re going to be just fine. Everything else, everything else, we can handle, okay? But I really needed to see that spark to know for sure.”

My small burst of energy and irritation burns away quickly and I collapse against his chest, exhaustion settling over me as the steady thrum of Gavin’s heart beats beneath my cheek. “I’ve missed you,” I murmur, the words so soft they’re barely more than a shuddering exhale.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Yeah. Me, too.”

We fall silent for a while, each of us lost in our own heads. I’m almost asleep when he asks, “Does he make you happy?” There’s an underlying note of reluctance in Gavin’s voice, like every syllable was a painful effort.

I answer honestly. “He did. I thought he did, anyway. But not—” Pain clutches at my heart when I think about my babies. “Not for a while.”

“But this trip, it was to celebrate your a