Chapter Twenty-One
SUMMER STOOD NEXT to the hospital bed, only half-listening to Jacob and M?rten talk.
They were discussing the finer details of the attack on the mine site and where Tyrone might be hiding out now.
None of this felt relevant to her anymore, however.
The only thing that was important to Summer was her urgent, undeniable need to get home.
Ever since she’d seen M?rten bleeding from a stab wound, a switch had flipped inside her.
It might be better to call it a panic button.
Whatever it was, now all she felt when she looked at him was a terrible fear.
Dread clawed at her gut, tried to climb her throat and get out of her body as a never-ending scream.
It was all she could do to keep a straight face in his presence.
M?rten had come close to dying. And it was all her fault. Again. She was bad luck to have around. Cursed. She needed to get away from him before something else terrible happened. Because she couldn’t watch someone else she loved die right in front of her.
Summer barely acknowledged the idea that she might be in love with M?rten. That emotion came second; it wasn’t important. She wouldn’t put him in danger again.
And while he hadn’t actually come out and said the L word just as Jacob’s phone call had interrupted him, even the suggestion had been enough to scare her.
What if he was already in love with her?
And what if she’d allowed herself to fall for him too?
What would she have done then? If M?rten had died, her world would’ve been shattered once again.
And she wouldn’t have been able to recover this time.
It was too much for her to risk falling in love with M?rten.
Sometimes the risks did outweigh the benefits.
Living in Sweden with M?rten had made her forget the rules she’d used to live by for a little while.
Her rules had been set in place to protect her heart.
She knew what true heartache felt like, and she never wanted to go there again.
Never ever. Reality could be cruel. It could crush your dreams, and hollow you out, until you were a mere shell of a human being.
M?rten finally ended his call, placing his cell back on the side table, searching her face for answers as he did so. But she refused to look at him, instead walking over and staring out the window.
“You can’t go back to America. Not yet. Not until we find Tyrone.
He could still be after you.” It was exactly what she’d expected him to say.
M?rten was a protector at heart, his profession as a police officer a perfect match for his personality.
But she could no longer be his responsibility.
He needed to get on with his life, and she needed to get on with hers.
But the only way to get him to listen was to tell him the truth.
M?rten deserved an answer; she owed him that much.
And the only way she could explain that her carefully crafted life was the best way she knew how to live—so that she never went back into that soul-crushing, horrific, dark place—was to tell him about Marco.
The whole story, the unvarnished truth. The terrible years she’d spent blaming herself, so grief stricken that in the end she had to leave her family and friends so she could build a new future in Seattle, where she wasn’t reminded every day of what she’d lost.
She turned and met his serious silver eyes. Eyes the color of liquid mercury, or a wild, stormy ocean. Expressive eyes that hinted at everything he was feeling.
“I need to tell you something. About my past. About a boy called Marco.”
“Hmm, the mysterious Marco,” M?rten said, then immediately grimaced. “Sorry. It’s just that you mentioned his name last night, and I’ve been wondering about him ever since.”
She was sure he had. The way she’d acted must’ve seemed crazy. But maybe after he heard her story, he would understand.
“Marco and I were in love. We were seventeen, and after we finished school at the end of the year, we planned to get married.” She’d never told her parents this.
No one knew; it was a secret they’d kept between themselves.
Summer never allowed herself to go down the what-if tunnel.
After Marco had died, she’d shut away all her hopes and dreams of a white wedding, of both of them getting jobs so they could eventually afford to buy a small house.
Of having children together; she would’ve liked at least three.
But just for a second as she stood in front of the hospital window, she let the images resurface.
“We could’ve had a perfect life together,” she breathed.
“But that was all taken away when we were walking home from the cinema one night and a gang of young, Black guys stopped us in the street, demanding my handbag. I would’ve willingly given it to them, but Marco stepped in front of me.
He was trying to protect me. They stabbed him ten times. He died in my arms.”
“Summer, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry…” The raw empathy in his voice was nearly her undoing. He had one leg out of the bed to come to her before she held up a hand to stop him, because she needed to finish before the words stuck in her throat.
“You weren’t supposed to know. Because I’ve put it all behind me,” she said bluntly.
“But you have to know this story because it explains why I am the way I am. I don’t enjoy being out after dark.
And I don’t go into gloomy alleys or deserted places by myself.
I used to suffer nightmares every night.
But now, until recently anyway, I stopped having them.
I’m happy with my life as it is. I have my photography, and I have my friends, and I don’t have any complications. ”
This time M?rten got out of bed and limped toward her. His legs were bare beneath his hospital gown, his handsome face contorted with distress.
“I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through.” M?rten stopped mere inches from her, his head bent low so he could look her directly in the eyes, but he didn’t touch her. Thank the Lord. If he had…
“That kind of trauma changes people,” he agreed. “I’m not going to pretend I understand.”
She lifted her chin. No, he would never understand. No one did.
“But what about love? What about someone to share your life with? Are you saying you don’t want that? Don’t need that?” he continued.
She snorted, a derisive noise meant to drive him away. “You sound like Bianca,” she accused. “And yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“You can’t mean it.” He took her hand, which was now dangling uselessly at her side, his warm touch a shock to her system.
“I know my dating history is not the best example.” He gave a slight shrug.
“But I guess a part of me always hoped that I’d find love eventually.
It’s what every human being wants. Needs.
Someone to care for them. Someone to share their life with.
The ups and the downs. The good and the bad. Isn’t it?”
“Not me.” Summer had to force the words past a sudden lump in her throat.
It took everything she had to drop his hand, push him away.
“I know you mean well. And I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for all that you’ve done for me.
For coming to find me, for saving me.” Her insides shook, as if an earthquake was erupting in her chest. She kept her chin up, ignoring the trembling inside as she stepped around him.
“But I need to go home. I can’t stay here, and I can’t be with you. It just wouldn’t work, M?rten.”
She hadn’t known this would be the outcome tonight as she sat in the chair waiting for M?rten to finish talking to his supervisor and then the nurses. But now, it seemed inevitable. It was for the best, she decided as she carefully opened the door and stepped through it without once looking back.
“Summer, wait,” he called, but she was already walking down the hallway.