24. A Boot, a Bag, and a Bunch of Flowers
CHAPTER 24
A BOOT, A BAG, AND A BUNCH OF FLOWERS
ZOE
A pparently , when your body commandeers all available resources for healing, it also commands brainpower. Because I don’t realize until we are off the plane that my car is in the parking lot and I can’t exactly drive it with this boot on my right leg. I guess I’ll have to call an Uber , have the driver meet me at my car, get my bigger suitcase out of the trunk, then drive me to a hotel near Langley . Then I’ll just pay for however many days of extra airport parking it takes before I’m healed enough to get an Uber to bring me back to my car.
As we are walking out, I’m feeling… I’m not sure, exactly. A sad longing? Ledger and I have spent so much time together over so many days, and I got used to being around him all the time. And now, we won’t be. We will still have to finish this mission at some point, and then I guess we’ll go back to seeing each other every now and then when our missions accidentally overlap. I didn’t think that would make me sad. I thought I’d be thrilled at this point, actually. But I’m very much not.
“ Did you drive here?”
Ledger nods. “ Did you?”
“ Yep . Which way is your car?”
Ledger motions off to the left, so I say, “ Okay , mine is this way, so I guess this is where we part ways until our debriefing.”
“ Wait , no,” Ledger says. “ You can’t drive.”
“ I was going to call an Uber .”
“ No , I’ve got you. Give me your keys and point me in the general direction. You’re going to sit on that bench until I get your car over here, then I’m going to drive you home.”
“ What about your car?”
“ I’ll come back and get it later.”
I’d argue the point, but I really do just need to sit. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it to my car. A few minutes later, Ledger pulls up and hops out to put both our bags in my trunk alongside my suitcase that was already there. I hadn’t decided where, exactly, I was going to stay when I got back, but the hotel I was in before we left is as good as any, so I direct him there.
The entire drive home, I’m mad. Mad that I need so much help. Mad at myself for making such a rookie mistake. I should’ve known better than to do something as stupid as falling off a roof. I’ve traveled across roofs in all kinds of weather before just fine. Was I just distracted by Ledger this time?
And I’m mad that I lost my necklace. It’s a small thing from a lifetime ago, and it shouldn’t matter, but it does.
When we arrive at the hotel, I feel curiosity coming from Ledger that I led him to a hotel and not an apartment, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just gets my bag and my luggage and goes with me inside to check in.
I think he’ll leave then, but he doesn’t. He takes my luggage all the way up to my room. Asks if I want help unpacking. ( I don’t.) Asks me what I want to eat. Orders it for me. Helps me take off the boot so I can change into yoga pants. Helps me to put it back on, his hands carefully positioning my leg and arranging my pants before strapping it back on. He even stays and eats lunch with me.
He can tell when my body is getting too tired to stay awake, and he bows out, making sure I know that it’s okay to call him for anything at any time. He even makes sure my phone is near me so I don’t have to get up to call him. Then I ease my way onto the bed and under the covers, and I sleep.
I wake disoriented and sore, and I have no idea what day it is, only that it’s light outside. I grab my phone off the night stand. It’s ten a.m., which makes no sense because I’m pretty sure I started my nap at around one p.m. Then my eyes fly up to the date, and I sit up straight, then wince at the pain in my ribs. It’s Wednesday ? Did I seriously just sleep for twenty-one hours straight? Based on how many messages I’ve missed from Sully , Packston , and Ledger , I’m guessing yes.
I down two Tylenol before I even get out of bed, and then I hobble into the bathroom. I can’t believe I slept for nearly a full day! I don’t think I’ve ever been this unproductive in my life, and I’ve slacked on my responsibilities right during an active operation. I have got to get myself going. I’m not supposed to get my wound wet yet, but I desperately need a shower.
Then I remember that when Ledger got us lunch, it was sub sandwiches. He got a footlong one, and it was in a plastic bag. I hobble out to the main room and dig through the garbage until I find it. After shaking out the crumbs, I flop my injured leg up onto the bed, carefully remove the boot, and slide my foot into the bag, pulling it up over my incision. Then I grab a hair tie that has been stretched out way too far and slide it up my leg, holding the top of the bag tight.
Then I get into the shower. It’s one of the most difficult things I’ve done, but I’m determined to do it. I wash my hair first since that’s what’s bugging me the worst, even though the motion hurts my ribs even more than I guessed it would.
It’s a quick shower, my leg is almost numb from the hair tie being a little too snug, and it leaves me so exhausted that I have to lay back down on my bed for thirty minutes just to recover, but I am clean. And that makes it all worth it.
It takes another two hours to get ready for work, summon an Uber , and travel there, but I walk in with my head held high, looking like I’m ready to take on the world. In a boot. And with a limp. And an occasional wince. But ready, nonetheless.
And then, before I’ve even made eye contact with Packston or Sully , Troy , the office troll, comes up and walks alongside me, matching my slow pace. “ Hey , congratulations on such successful missions in Dublin and Belgrade !”
It sounds like a compliment, but I know he’s really just setting things up for the dig.
“ Especially having to do it with someone from the CSA . I think I heard somewhere that he’s like your rival, right? So good job being so successful in those conditions.”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of saying “ Thanks ,” even though he pauses so I can. But I know he’s not done talking yet, so I just keep walking.
“ You came so close to pulling off the perfect mission, too! Then at the last moment, you managed to pull off the seemingly impossible and seized defeat from the jaws of victory.”
And there it is. The worst part is, it actually hits a nerve. Usually I can brush off everything Troy says, but this one hurts. I’m not about to let him know that he hit a home run, though, so I say, “ It really was a tough one. How was work while I was gone? Have things at your desk been going well?”
I had heard that he got put on desk duty after he lost a secure comms device on his last mission. Based on the fact that he stops walking, I guess I hit a nerve, too.
“ Zoe !” Packston notices me and runs over and gives me a hug so gentle that it feels like I’m being hugged by a cloud. “ I didn’t think you would be in today. Did you get the flowers we sent? How are you feeling? Did they say you could come back already? ”
“ I don’t know,” I admit. “ I haven’t seen my doctor here yet, and I don’t remember if the nurse said anything about that when I was in Ankara .” I suddenly wonder if Ledger got instructions that I missed. “ I just need to talk to the director.”
Packston tells me that he’s in his office, so I turn to head that way, but he calls out, “ And Zoe ?” I turn to look at him. “ We’ve all been pulling for you here. All of us.”
I give him a smile. “ Thank you. That means a lot.”
Sully is just finishing a phone call when I get to his office, and he waves me in. I collapse into one of his padded chairs, because walking like you can take on the world when you can really only take on maybe one square foot of it is rather exhausting.
“ It’s good to see you, Zoe !” Sully says. “ Ledger Lancaster has done a good job of keeping me updated on your condition. I was glad to hear that the surgery went well.” He pauses a moment, then says, “ But last I heard, you weren’t doing well enough to walk more than a dozen feet. Why are you here?”
Not exactly the “ I’m so proud of you” that I was hoping for at the end of this mission. “ Because I can’t just lay in bed all day and do nothing.”
“ But that’s exactly what you should be doing.”
Apparently , being injured brings out the teenager in me, because I want to reply with “ You’re not my dad,” but I kind of wish he was. Instead , as I’m lifting one corner of my mouth in a smile, I say, “ You’re not my doctor.”
He comes around and partially sits on his desk, facing me. “ No , but I am your director, and I want you to get back to full health. Coming into work isn’t going to facilitate that.”
“ I’m really sorry that Ledger didn’t finish the mission,” I blurt out. “ I thought he would— I told him to— but he decided to take me to the hospital instead.”
“ I would’ve told him to do exactly that if I was there.”
I run my hands over my face in frustration. “ Why ? I am not okay with that! That wasn’t what I wanted, and I’m mad that I didn’t get a say in it at all.”
“ Why are you not okay with that?”
“ Because it’s a black mark against me . I now have an unsuccessful mission in the books.” And that goes directly against my “ Be the best spy ever” plan that I’ve had my entire life. Getting injured so that I can’t do a mission at all goes against the plan in a colossal way.
“ There’s no ‘black mark’ against you. No spy is ever successful at one hundred percent of the missions, and I don’t expect you to be. It’s impossible to have a perfect record unless you’re only taking on the easy missions. You aren’t built for easy missions, Zoe , so you’re going to have some that don’t end with a success.”
I shake my head, not accepting that at all. “ No , I need to be the best.”
Instead of reassuring me that I am still the best, he says, “ Why ?” It isn’t so much a question as a demand for an answer.
I shake my head. “ You wouldn’t understand.”
“ Try me.”
I can’t because maybe I don’t fully understand myself. It’s just a feeling inside. A drive. It’s not something I can explain, so I just stay silent.
“ Okay , then, let me take a shot at it. Is it because if you’re not going to open yourself up to being loved, you crave the next best thing— admiration? And you figure that being the best will get you that?”
I narrow my eyes at him as I’m grinding my teeth.
Sully raises his hands. “ I pushed too far. I apologize.”
“ You didn’t push too far. It just isn’t true.” What is pushing too far right now is my pain level. It’s taking so much of my focus just keeping it under control.
“ Okay , okay,” he says, trying to placate me, even though I know he still believes it. He twists to grab some papers off his desk. “ I got your medical report from the field. Broken fibula. Broken rib. Bruised spleen. Marked bruising on ribs, legs, and back. There are several recommendations listed. Here’s one: recommend rest for one to two weeks before light office work.”
He looks from the papers back to me. “ That is dated Monday afternoon. Those kinds of injuries take time to heal, and they aren’t going to heal very quickly here. Go home, Zoe . Give your body the rest it needs. That’s your mission right now. I’ll see you here next Tuesday , if you’re feeling up for it then. If you’re not, take another week.”
I have to stop to rest halfway between my office in the Global Intelligence Division and the front door, where my Uber driver is picking me up. When I get back in my hotel room, I sit on my bed, take off my stupid boot, and chuck it at the floor. I hate the thing. I glare at it, like it’s the embodiment of everything that’s stopping me from doing what I need to do. And if I can’t do what I need to do— the one thing I excel at— what am I even good for?
I flop back onto my bed, my good leg still on the floor, and stare up at the ceiling, not really seeing it. An hour later, I haven’t moved an inch when I hear a light knock on my door before Ledger opens it with the keycard I gave him yesterday. He’s juggling the key card, a big vase of happy-looking flowers in each arm, and a bag with dinner in it. Seeing him is like a light is turned on when I’ve been in darkness. It makes my whole insides happy.
“ The front desk said these came for you. I think this one is from your work,” he says as he sets the first one on the small table, “and I think this one is from mine.” He sets the second one down, and then looks down at where my boot landed on the floor. “ I see you two had an argument.”
I nod. “ It’s unclear who won.”
“ Looks like you put up a good fight, though.” He sets the bag with dinner on my desk. “ Are you ready to kiss and make up with it? Because I brought Thai .”
I sit up. “ Really ? For Thai , I can make peace with the boot.”
He picks the cursed boot up, then once again, gently gets my foot strapped into it before taking my hand and pulling me up from my despondency bed so I can walk to the table.
I watch the way he does everything. Takes care of me. Gets the food set out. Asks about my day as we eat. If I had to analyze his body language through it all, I would say, “ That man loves that woman.” I see it in everything he does.
But he shouldn’t love me. I’m not everything that he must think that I am. If he knew the real me, he’d see that I’m not worthy of it. My mom knew it. My foster parents all knew it.
They say that love is blind, so maybe that’s what’s going on here— love is just making him blind. But that blindness won’t stick around forever. It’s wonderful, and I’m soaking every bit of it in. Seeing him when I thought I wouldn’t feels like getting a surprise gift.
Before long, though, he’ll realize that I’m just… me .
But I’ll give the guy points for consistency because he also stops by to bring me dinner the next night. And on Friday and Saturday , too.
Every day that he’s here in my hotel room, I find that we touch more and more. A brush of hands as we are both reaching for the same thing. An arm offered when I get off balance. Help stretching my cramping leg. A rub of my calves through the ache.
On Sunday , he comes over in the early afternoon. We play card games and seated basketball with my trash bin and crumpled up papers. We sit on my bed and watch romcoms while eating ice cream. And instead of giving each other space, like we did in Belgrade when eating on the same bed, we sit side by side, close enough that our upper arms are touching. When I get tired and lean into him, he wraps an arm around me, supporting me. And when we need real food, he orders chicken parmesan and has it delivered.
We are touching more and more, and less and less of it is just accidental. But he never tries to kiss me. Part of me is relieved because I know the kind of longing that Ledger’s kisses cause in me. But part of me wants it so badly that I no longer care whether it might be painful for future me or not. I just want this man’s lips on mine.
Love is blind, and I am very grateful for that. As much as I resisted help at the beginning, I really love having someone look out for me like this. To have my back when it’s impossible to do many of these things myself. It feels healing. And not just to my body, which is getting stronger every day, but to my soul. I want to hold on to it as tight as I can while I have it. To soak every bit of it in.
“ My family gets together for dinner on Monday nights,” Ledger says before he leaves. “ What do you think about coming with me tomorrow?”
“ I don’t know. I’m injured— I don’t want anyone to see me like this.” I especially don’t want Evelyn Lancaster to see me like this. Not that she doesn’t already know that I messed up on the mission and got injured.
“ We’re all operatives. We’ve all been injured. Everyone gets it.”
Spending every day with Ledger is one thing. Meeting the family is something else, and it feels huge. I pride myself on not being afraid of anything, but this feels… scary. It’s a little thing, though. I should not be afraid of something as small as meeting someone’s family.
Even if they are a family of operatives, and even if one of them is my idol and the person I’ve fashioned my career after .
You can do this, Zoe .
I repeat it until I somewhat believe it. And because I want to hold on to every bit of this thing with Ledger , I nod and say, “ Okay , I’ll join you.”