Allee
Three Days Later
I didn’t know what to do when Mac showed up outside the house.
My life had become incredibly confusing when it came to him, as I hadn’t been able to get much information out of Camilla, and my brain was still too foggy for me to remember many details about the life I had with Mac before the attack.
I knew in my heart I was going to find him at some point. But, the fact that I was engaged to him before the attack as well as being pregnant with his child complicated how I would go about doing that. Not to mention my own government discouraging Camilla from enabling it.
But then, he showed up.
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” I told him that night. “How did you find me?”
“The Air Tags,” he replied. “Remember? You insisted we both put them in our bags and when you couldn’t connect yours to your phone, we connected it to mine.”
“Air Tags?” Camilla says. “What even are those?”
“Just these little things that help you track what’s yours,” I answered her, but not looking at her. I couldn’t take my eyes off Mac.
“But why didn’t you call me, baby? Or text?”
“I don’t have your number in my phone,” I told him. “And I guess I had never memorized it because I took it for granted that I just had your contact saved.”
“Why’d you do it?” he asked Camilla, clearly deducing that she was the one who deleted him from my phone. “Why did you run off with her like that and leave me in the dark?”
“They told me to,” she said. “I didn’t want to do that to you, but the Commander who arranged everything said that was the safest thing for Allee.
“But you could have told me what was going on at least.”
“No, they said that even though you two had been linked, it was safest for us to disappear,” Camilla insisted. “I really wanted to text you – either from her phone or mine – but when they said that it was for her own good, then I did what I felt was best for her at the time. I didn’t want to hurt you, Mac. I really didn’t. I was just doing what I had to in order to keep my sister safe.”
I was surprised with how quickly Mac let it go, but then, I think he was trying to be positive and supportive of me. It seemed that his tracking me down the way he did impressed my sister to the point she was willing to give him a real chance at being the man I needed in my life, and I appreciated her effort on that front.
The more time I spend with him, the more memories of our life together before the accident come back to me. And I’ve realized Mac never would have let me just disappear. He’d have torn the entire world apart to find me.
But, it’s not all been easy.
I’m not in the same condition I was the last time we saw each other, and while Mac himself is supportive and wants me to take my time recovering, I’m feeling frustrated with myself. I don’t want to be physically limited, and it seems that’s going to be a thing in my life now.
And I need to talk to Mac about it – among other things.
I’ve spent the last three days just existing with him. He’s been helping me recount events and memories from before, which has been kind of cool… almost like being in a new relationship again and learning about him all over again.
However, certain rather sensitive topics have not come up yet because I’ve been torn about how to broach them. Since Camilla is at work right now, and Mac has the day completely off from anything work-related, I’m going to jump on the chance to talk to him. I mentioned to my sister that I wanted to spend some one-on-one time with Mac, so she moved her shift around to allow me to do that.
I’m not sure I fully believe that the government told her to cut Mac out of my life, but she insists that’s what happened, and I’m not going to argue with her about it. I know the value of letting things go, and with Mac back in my life now, and the two of them getting along fairly decently, it doesn’t really matter anymore. If nothing else, almost losing my life and my love has made me realize what’s really important in life. And holding on to grievances is not how I want to live. Life’s too short.
I know she did certain things to protect me. Even though it wasn’t her place to withhold information from Mac, and it hurt him, I don’t believe my sister is evil. She’s just overly protective of the only family she’s got left.
“Hey handsome,” I say when I step out of the bungalow and onto the back porch. He’s got a glass of iced tea in hand, and I brought out a lemonade. “I wondered where you ran off to.”
“Not far,” he tells me. “I don’t want to be more than fifty feet away from you again.”
I laugh. “I don’t know how long that’s going to last before I need space.”
“Fair enough, but you know my point,” he says with a wink. That wink and smirk that melts my heart.
“I do,” I say. I sit down in one of the chairs, and he looks at me with concern.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better by the day.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mac, honestly, it’s me. I got blown up and here I am, up and about. I’m not going to break.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I know you’re tough and you can take an awful lot, but this whole thing really freaked me out.”
“We both knew what we were getting ourselves into when we signed up for the service.”
“Right, but knowing it in your head or seeing it on paper is a lot different than living it out,” he tells me.
I chuckle. “I can’t argue with that.”
“So there’s been something I’ve wanted to tell you,” Mac says. “But I wanted to wait until we were alone.”
“Oh?”
“The last mission was a success,” he tells me, and my heart skips a beat. “We found Libby and she’s home.”
“What?!”
I almost drop my lemonade, I’m so shocked. “Baby, that’s wonderful. When? How? Where was she?”
He laughs. “Slow down there, one thing at a time. We found her a few hours south from here working for a wealthy family. Domestic servant rather than a sex worker thank God.”
“Oh, thank God for that,” I say as I breathe a sigh of relief. “Not that being a slave is a good thing, but still. Definitely better than forced into the sex trade.”
The things I heard and saw when I had infiltrated the sex ring from our last big rescue mission broke my heart for those who are enslaved in that lifestyle. I know it doesn’t take away from the pain and horrors domestic servants also face, but I also feel that Libby’s fate could have been a lot worse.
“It was a relatively easy mission once we had the plan in place,” he says. “Will stepped up and was one of the operators that went in. Things got a bit heated, but we subdued the place pretty quickly. Pulled her out of there and sent her back home with my parents as quickly as we could.”
“Oh thank God,” I say. “How are your parents? Shit, how is she doing even? How stupid of me to not ask that first.”
“My parents are ecstatic of course. She’s in shock, as you can imagine,” he tells me. “I know it’s going to be a long road for her to get back to normal. If she’s ever going to reach the point she can call it normal.”
“It’s going to be a process,” I agree. “But you know healing can be incredible. Give her time, and I’m sure she’ll readjust to life.”
“The fact that she was only twelve when she was kidnapped will make it difficult,” he tells me. “I mean, she spent two-thirds of her life enslaved and without her family, so that’s going to be hard. But like you said, healing is possible, and hopefully, with time, and love, and therapy, she’ll be okay.”
“And between you and your parents along with the doctors, she’s got a strong support system,” I add. “I can’t even tell you how happy I am for you.”
“For us,” he tells me. “You were part of that mission, too, baby, even if you weren’t there for it.”
I smile, but tears well up in my eyes in spite of myself. I try to ignore them, and I will them to go away with every fiber of my being. But Mac sees, and of course, he’s going to ask.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I open my mouth to respond, but all I can manage to do is shake my head. Tears run down both my cheeks as I look away, and Mac grows concerned.
“Talk to me, baby,” he says. “What’s going on?”
“It’s over, Mac,” I say.
“What!”
I realize he must think I’m talking about our relationship, so I quickly clarify.
“My career. It’s over,” I tell him. “I don’t know what all happened back at the hospital, obviously because I was in a coma. But a week after I came out of it, Camilla gave me this file that my Commander gave her, and it outlines everything.”
“What did they say?”
“Oh, you know the typical bullshit. They’re going to award me medals for my service. They’re going to give me the honors I deserve, blah blah blah. It’s nice, but it’s not what I want. I’m a field agent, Mac. I worked my ass off to get to where I am, and they’re taking it all away.”
The words fall from my lips, and as they do, I realize I’m a lot more upset about it than I realized. Mac doesn’t say anything, and I know he’s giving me the time to vent as much as I need before he starts talking.
“It’s all because of my legs. I could work around my arm injury and even what happened to my back, but I can’t even walk across the house without these crutches right now, and that kills me. I can get to the bathroom and back to bed, and that’s about it.”
“For now.”
“Right, but even when I’m not using them anymore, there’s no way I’m going to be able to do what I once did. I don’t see myself passing the P.T. minimums for some time, even in a best-case scenario.”
“So what did they tell you then?” he asks, commiserating with me and just as angry. They ask you to give everything, and then you do, and then they relocate you to a desk job and give you a little thank you note for it?”
“Yep, they offered me office positions and the same rank and pay,” I sigh. “But honestly, I don’t want to work in the office. What am I supposed to do? Go in and sit at a desk all day? I mean, I know there’s a lot to be said for that and the people who do those jobs, but that’s not me. I’m not cut out for the office, and I’d be miserable. I’m cut out to be in the action. I want to be out doing the field work like before. Not sitting back and hearing about someone else doing them.”
“Anyway,” I drag my hand angrily over one eye, then the other. “I’ve never understood why someone who’s injured in the field gets so angry, but now I can relate to those people. It’s a lot different when you are the one in the position and hearing that you’re never going to be able to do what you’ve been born to do again.”
“Hold on there,” he tells me.
He reaches for my hand, and then gives it a gentle squeeze as he holds it.
“Baby, I know that this is your passion. You’ve always had such a fire and such a drive for doing what you do, but trust me when I say that you weren’t born to only be an agent. For all the good you do and have done with your career, you’re bigger than your career.”
“Thanks, Mac,” I say, my heart swelling with love for him. I know he’s trying to make me feel better, and while his words really aren’t helping me that much in the moment, I can appreciate the effort he’s making. “But I feel guilty.”
“Guilty?” he asks me, surprise evident on his face. “For what?”
“My career is over,” I tell him. “Office work or not, I’m never going to be able to do what we were doing. I’m not going to be able to stand with you side by side out there. I would be holding you back.”
My voice cracks, and Mac shakes his head as he gets up. He pulls me into his arms.
“Hold me back?” he asks. “Alejandra. There’s no way in the world you’d be holding me back. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What’s it going to be like?” I ask. “You’re going to have to – wait for me. We’re going to have to work separately now – not because we’re serving different countries, but because they’re not going to be sending us out there on the same missions.”
“We’re going to live in the same house,” he laughs. “Just because we don’t go to work and punch the same time clock so to speak doesn’t mean that you’re holding me back. Besides, I’ve been looking into other options for myself as well.”
“Other options?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
“I mean after what happened to you and how close I came to losing you, I think I’m ready to take a step back from the most dangerous parts of this line of work. I know I’m still going to be in the thick of the action at times, but I don’t want that to be my every day anymore. Not when I know I’ve got you at home.”
“But that’s what makes me think I’d be holding you back,” I start, but he doesn’t let me continue.
“I know and I understand what you’re feeling,” he says, his voice filled with compassion which makes me feel warm inside. “But you have to understand that I made this decision for myself while I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to wake up. I told myself when you did, I think we both need to think about what we’re doing with our lives, and whether we want to continue with this line of work. Especially when we get to the point of talking about having kids.”
My heart skips a beat. I haven’t told him about the baby yet. I knew I was going to do it soon, but I wanted to find the right time to bring it up. I’m starting to show, but we haven’t had sex, so he hasn’t seen me naked or my tiny bump yet.
We had talked about children in the past, but we’d never really addressed the idea very seriously. It was more about whether we would be open to having children someday, not how many kids we wanted to have or when we would start having them.
We were both so invested in our careers that we agreed that we didn’t want to add children to the mix until we both worked less dangerous jobs. While it’s clear I’m now going to be forced to work in a less physically demanding line of work, I don’t know how Mac is going to take the news.
I don’t know if he’s willing to give up his career as it is now for the sake of making it safer for his kids—or for me, for that matter.
But, what better time to talk to him about carrying his child than right after he brought up the subject?
“Mac, there’s something else,” I say into his chest. I’m surprised with how nervous I am to say the words. “And now that you brought it up, I think it’s time to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“I’m pregnant.”