Chapter 16 #2
Adela glances toward Rafe. He gives her a small nod, like he’s giving her permission to be honest. “It may take time,” she says. “Men like Alexei know how to hide well. He's a very powerful man.”
“But we’ll do it,” Rafe says firmly.
My fists clench. “And Jude?”
“We’ll get him,” Adela says. “But we can’t rush.”
Panic flares sharply inside my chest. “I don’t have time to wait.”
“You will,” Rafe says.
“Why?”
He leans in. “Because rushing gets people killed. And I doubt you want to bury your friends.”
I open my mouth, but he keeps going.
“I know you’re afraid he’ll die before we reach him. I felt the same when my wife was kidnapped and held captive by Russian enemies years ago. It took me too long to find her.” His voice drops. “Trust me. I get it.”
I don’t know what to say. So I say nothing.
She was kidnapped? Oh shit.
Adela meets my gaze, her expression unreadable. “This isn’t a movie rescue,” she says. “Alexei is an influential man with a lot of sway over there. We need to be absolutely sure about what we’re doing.”
My heart pounds as understanding settles in. This is the moment I cross the line. The moment I stop being the woman who only helps others face their darkness. This is the moment I choose to step into it myself.
I stand in the bathroom, staring at my phone until my thumb goes numb. My message is short and simple.
Me:
If you can see this, please know I’m coming. I’m not leaving you. I’m not letting him win.
I know he won’t see it, but I hit send anyway. The little notification pops up:
Not Delivered
Like a punch in the gut.
I swallow hard, eyes burning. Heather comes up behind me before I even realize I’ve started shaking. She wraps her arms around me, and the warmth of her body calms my jittery nerves. I don’t move. I just let her hold me.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice a whisper.
“Yeah.”
We stand like that for a long moment, and then I move to the mirror, forcing myself to look at my own face. Heather stays beside me, her shoulder against mine. We stare at our reflections like we’re seeing ourselves for the first time in a while.
“This is crazy,” she says quietly.
I nod, my throat tight. “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this.” I turn my head to look at her. “I’m serious. You didn’t need to come with me or do any of this.”
Heather’s hand finds mine and squeezes gently. “I want to, trust me. I love Jude, too. I always believed he was your truest love.”
I manage a sad smile, remembering how we once loved each other. Remembering that bright, beautiful boy I met on the dock.
“And if anyone is strong enough to do this,” she continues, “it’s you.”
I almost laugh, but it turns into a sob. “Thank you,” I whisper, voice cracking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Her eyes water, letting a few silent, heavy moments pass. “I’m so sorry, Emma.”
I squeeze her hand back, and gratitude floods my chest. “I’m grateful you’re doing this with me,” I say. “I don’t know how I’d survive without you. I don’t know how I’d manage losing him again. You give me strength.”
Heather smiles. “If I remember correctly, we had a similar conversation during finals week.”
A laugh bursts from me then. “God, that was hell. I don’t think we ate a home-cooked meal for like three weeks. I was so stressed.”
She huffs. “Ah, when tests were the scariest thing in the world...”
I nod, and we stare at each other. My best friend. My hero.
The bathroom door opens, and Micah steps in, eyes landing on his pill bottle by the sink. “I’m taking my med,” he says casually. “Sorry for interrupting.”
I blink. “Oh. Right. You’re fine.”
He lifts the pill out and places it under his tongue. I watch him do it, and I can’t help but feel a loosening in my chest.
“You’re doing good,” I tell him softly.
He gives me a tired smile. “I’m doing more than good.”
“You know what Suboxone does?” Heather asks.
I shake my head, curious.
“It’s a partial opioid agonist,” she says, suddenly in nurse mode. “So it binds to the same receptors in your brain that heroin does…but it doesn’t give you the high. It just keeps you from going into withdrawal. It’s really useful for people with opioid addictions.”
He points to the bottle. “It’s basically a bridge. It helps you stop chasing the needle.”
I nod slowly, absorbing it. “So you’re not using,” I say carefully.
Micah shakes his head. “No.” He lifts his sleeve and rolls it up, showing me the faint pale lines along his forearm where the track marks used to be.
They’re faded now.
I stare at them, and my heart twists. It’s a kind of beauty I never expected. Tears unexpectedly well up in my eyes, and my hand touches my sternum. I’m suddenly overwhelmed.
“I never thought I’d be able to get off the shit,” he whispers. “I thought I’d die before I could stop.” He looks at Heather, pride shining in his eyes. “I wish other people knew about this. It saves lives.”
Heather watches us quietly, her expression softening. Her bottom lip trembles like it always does when she gets emotional. Usually, that's only during sappy rom-coms.
Micah steps closer and wraps his arms around me.
I don’t hesitate. I lean into him, squeezing him tight like I’m trying to hold onto the fact that he’s safe. I can’t help it; my tears spill over. He rubs my back gently, letting me cry. Heather quietly slips out of the bathroom, giving us some space.
“I’m scared,” I whisper into his shoulder. “I’m trying to be strong, Micah, but I’m s—scared.”
“I am, too.” His arms tighten around me. “I’ve been scared for a long time.”
I swallow, tears still flowing. “I love you,” I whisper.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes gentle kind. “I love you too,” he says. Then he presses a soft kiss to my cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.