Page 102 of The Meaning Of You

He lifted the back of my hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss in place, slow and tender, his eyes never leaving mine. “We need to talk, you and I.”

I leaned down and brushed my lips over his, pulling away to find him staring at me, a warm expression on his face. I kissed him again and said, “We do, and I can’t wait.”

He watched me for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Yes.”

I frowned. “Yes, what?”

Another of those blinding grins. “Yes, you can date me, Mister Fisher. I thought you’d never ask.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Madigan

It took until Monday evening,almost twenty hours later, for the police and medical personnel to send me home. It wasn’t the end of the questioning, but I was done for the time being.

The paramedics who’d treated me at the marina insisted on transporting me to the hospital for chest X-rays and further investigations of my ear and the state of my hearing. My lungs were given the tick of approval with a caveat to be seen by my own doctor within the week. There was no way to tell if I’d stopped breathing at any point, but if I had, it couldn’t have been for long. The doctor suspected I’d probably just taken some water on board after my head inconveniently collided with the boat’s hull, but who knew?

The ear, nose and throat surgeon had ummed and ahhed before muttering something about the ear canal being filled with dried blood and grossly inflamed, but that I’d somehow escaped any major trauma to the delicate internal structures and would heal on my own, given time. He’d then stitched the tear on the outer ear—which hurt like a motherfucker—popped in some drops and slapped on a dressing. I was sent home with variouspills and potions, and handed an appointment for further examination down the track.

The bullet graze on my shoulder was a lucky escape that I was still trying to process. If I’d leaped just a little higher, it could’ve caught me under my armpit. I didn’t want to think too hard about what that meant. That close to death was sobering to say the least, and not only for me.

Nick had stared at the shallow wound for a long, long time, and although I itched to know what was going through his head, I didn’t ask. He had his own demons to deal with, and right then I didn’t have the strength to add his to my own. He would do what he would do. We’d been inseparable on the jetty, but since arriving at the hospital, Nick had fallen worryingly quiet, his gaze nervously flicking on and off mine, his expression unreadable. He held my hand and said and did all the right things, but there was an uncertainty in his eyes that I found hard to decipher.

But I couldn’t give it any time or energy either. I was done. Cooked. Exhausted. Spent. There was nothing left in the tank to cope with Nick Fisher’s emotional vacillations. I’d reached the sad conclusion that if, after everything that had happened, Nick wanted to back away, then fuck him.

If that was the case, we’d never had a chance anyway.

The police questioning had been intense, to say the least, and thank God for Samuel. He brokered all the interviews, which thankfully were done at the hospital, acted as a go-between, and made sure I was looked after and comfortable. But he had his hands full with Nick who was ready to pull the head off anyone who showed the slightest inkling to pressure me. In the end, it all went relatively smoothly.

Tobin, or Ross, or Ben as Gazza knew him, had been run down and cuffed before he’d reached the boat, and Gazza had been right there to rip him a new one loud enough to wake halfthe marina as the guy was arrested. There was even a mention of a well-placed boot in the balls before the arresting officer managed to pull Gazza off.

Ben’s brother was another story. He’d made it to shore in the dinghy and was yet to be located, but the police had some solid leads and an arrest was expected within days. Ben himself wasn’t talking, other than to say he had no idea who the man was I’d seen taking Lee away. That he and his brother had simply been paid to help locate a missing person who they’d been told could be in danger. Yeah, right. After that, he’d clammed up and asked for a lawyer.

I told the police my suspicions about the identity of the guy in the next cabin and that I thought he might be Australian. I learned later from Samuel that a man with a passport issued under the name of Lee Shepherd had left New Zealand for Australia while we’d still been in the hospital. He was in the company of another man and the New Zealand police were in contact with their Australian counterparts.

It was Samuel who drove us home. Nick didn’t say much, but he held my hand all the way. I figured we were both shattered.

Gazza and Jerry had been released much earlier in the day, and when we walked in the front door, I saw straightaway that they’d been busy, along with Lizzie who I hadn’t expected to see there but should have. Nick had warned me about the state of the house when he’d last seen it, but as I looked around, it was spotless. No fingerprint dust. No blood on the wooden floors. Every pillow plumped and chopped. I almost laughed.

Instead, I cried. Big, fat, ugly tears rolling down my face in an emotional blast of disbelief and gratitude.

I’d been dreading what I’d find. Dreading the reminder of watching Nick crumble to the floor. Of the two men appearing from my study when he’d left to get the iced tea. Of the gun. Ofevery fucking thing that had happened since. Of my quiet life exploding before my eyes.

Lizzie took one look at my face and caught me in her arms before my knees gave way. “Shirley helped,” she told me. “She wanted to be here when you got home, but the officer insisted on returning her to Golden Oaks once we got the news. She was pissed as hell, let me tell you. Be ready for an earful when you next see her.”

I tried for a smile but it fell flat.

“Come on.” Lizzie pulled me away from Nick’s side and I could’ve sworn I heard him growl. She walked me to the couch and everyone grabbed a place to perch so we could catch up. They plied me with questions and I returned the favour, but it was much briefer and more sombre than I’d imagined. More like a wake than anything else, and maybe that was closer to the truth than I wanted to believe. We’d all lost something over the last couple of days. Faith. Trust. A sense of security. The bubble had burst.

Samuel received a call just before seven and took it outside. While we waited, Lizzie brought hot tea and sandwiches. Nick remained glued to my side as he had since the jetty, hovering dangerously like a protective mumma bear, including snarls. I’d have been flattered if I wasn’t too busy waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When Samuel returned, he looked less than happy. “Melbourne police called the contact number Lee Shepherd gave on his customs documentation. Lee answered the phone and told them he had no idea what they were talking about. He said his decision to return to Australia had been coming for a while and assured them he was there of his own free will. That he didn’t need any help. The detective who made the call said he sounded... nervous.”

Silence filled the room and everyone looked at each other.

My heart felt like a hollow ball in my chest as I remembered the expression of sheer terror on Lee’s face when he’d walked past the galley and up the stairs.

If I’d been faster with the ties. If I’d gotten to him sooner.

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