“No one believed us that you were still in danger.”
“Who’s us?”
“Me and Duke. Is he around here? He was trailing Charles.”
“Charles?” Anton darts a glance away from me. “Why?”
“Because Charles was trying to take you out.” I grimace. “I’m sorry. I should have figured it out sooner. I…I failed.”
“You didn’t.” Anton looks down at me, and there’s anguish in his gaze.
Tears are pooling in my eyes and leaking out the corners. I’m trying to take deep, slow breaths, but my chest feels tight, like someone’s sitting on my lungs. “It’s never supposed to get to this point.”
“You did your job,” he says, his tone firm. “You did a good job.”
I shake my head. The pain radiating through my entire body is acting like truth serum, but I don’t even care. I want him to know. Yes, I was trained to keep him safe, but that’s not the only reason I did what I did.
“You’re not my job.” I choke on my spit and start coughing.
“I know. Because you were fired.” Anton nods. “It doesn’t matter. It’s okay.”
I’m panicky, and I can’t catch my breath, and the room is at once spinning and closing in on me, but I force myself to speak. He has to know what I mean—before it’s too late. “You’re more than my job. Always have been,” I murmur.
The medical people who are working on my leg are talking, and I focus on them and what they’re saying. I’d like to try to figure outwhat the damage is. I have no concept of anything. I could have been barely grazed, or I could be bleeding out. It’s all relative.
Someone yells, “Keep her talking. Keep her awake.”
“Hey!”
I start and open my eyes, which I didn’t realize I’d let fall closed. Anton has his hands on my cheeks and his face hanging over mine.
He’s breathing heavily. “I didn’t recognize you before because you aren’t wearing your jacket.”
I frown. Why is he talking to me about a coat right now?
“The one you gave me?” My voice sounds hollow in my ears.
He nods. Even in my haze, I can tell how earnestly and intently he’s staring at me.
The edges of my vision are tunneling, but I swallow and try to focus on the conversation. “I didn’t think you’d want me to wear your name on my back…after everything I did.”
Anton’s voice sounds farther away, and I can tell I’m slipping out of consciousness. “Hey! No. Rosie! Listen to me. Stay with me.” He sounds like he’s at the other end of a tunnel. Before I close my eyes, I hear him say, from what feels like one hundred miles away, “I always want my name on your back. No matter what.”
Then everything goes dark.
39
No Hugs for You
Anton
The tension in this cramped waiting room at the hospital in Green Bay is thicker than a seven-layer, dark-chocolate cake and not nearly as sweet.
I’m sitting in the corner, in a chair that’s three sizes too small for me, listening as Rose’s sisters verbally decimate their father. I don’t know all the details, but suffice it to say, I’m gladI’mnot the one on the receiving end of their ire.
They stormed into the hospital, took one look at me—still in my gameday pants and football cleats—and Poppy said, “You’re here. Good.”
That’s been it as far as I’m concerned.
