Page 105 of Reading Between the Lines
He nodded, and I wrapped my arms around him, burying myself against his solid chest, trying to soothe his tormented soul. “It’s okay, Guns.”
He embraced me and cried. His body shook with release.
Five or ten minutes later, he pulled himself together and spoke. The words came out thick with emotion. “I love you, Tallus.”
I squeezed him tighter and smiled. “I know, D. I love you too.”
26
Tallus
Diem couldn’t escape the hospital this time. I didn’t have to be a doctor to know he’d busted his knuckles on Herbert’s borrowed—stolen—station wagon. Without argument, leaving the station wagon behind, Diem drove us back to the B&B so I could find my contacts. Then, since driving was proving difficult with multiple injuries, he allowed me to take us to the next city over, where they had an emergency room. The same hospital where Weston lay dying.
I kept one hand on the wheel and the other on Diem’s thigh as I drove. His explosion of emotion and declaration of love trumped my experience at the cabin. I had a feeling Diem was still processing too. He kept eyeing me, but if I caught him looking, he darted his gaze away.
Eventually, he took my hand and weaved our fingers together. “What happened?” he croaked as I left the highway, his voice hoarse from having shouted so much.
Fearing he’d order me to turn the Jeep around and abandon medical aid, I avoided announcing my discovery, saving that piece of information for after he’d seen a doctor. Instead, I explained my instinct and my decision to try to uncover what I couldn’t quite remember. I told him about the Molotov cocktails and how the fire had engulfed the cabin before I could blink. I explained about my melted glasses and how my pants had almost caught fire. Embarrassed, I recounted the part about the engaged lock and my struggle to escape.
Diem’s color faded with every detail until he was a sickly gray. Deep worry lines etched his face. He didn’t seem to have the energy left to rage about my stupid decision, but I read the concern in his body language and felt it in the way he progressively squeezed my hand tighter.
In the back of my mind, I could hear Diem saying,It could have been you. This time, it almost had been me. No wonder he’d lost his mind. No wonder he looked ready to vomit.
He loved me, and the thought of losing me was enough to upend his sanity.
“I’m okay, D.”
But by the look in his eyes, he didn’t hear me. He was far, far away. Processing. Always processing.
***
It took over an hour for Diem to finally see a doctor and another hour before he was taken to have his hand and shoulder x-rayed. The entire time the hospital personnel poked and prodded his mounting injuries, Diem sat stone-faced and distant. The fight had gone out of him, but his submission worried me.
The diagnosis: tissue damage on all knuckles and boxer fractures of the first two fingers, along with deep muscle bruising on his shoulder.
By the time they applied a cast to his hand, administered some top-notch painkillers, and sent him on his way with a prescription for more, it was closing in on two in the morning. I’d been keeping tabs on the news all night, wondering if a fire would be reported in the woods outside of Port Hope, but there had been nothing so far. Did it burn out? I assumed people would be talking if the surrounding forest had gone up in flames.
Back at the B&B, I helped Diem undress and tucked him into bed. He grumped and complained, which assured me he was returning to stable ground.
“I need to take a shower.” After my adventure in the woods, I was covered in mud from head to toe, and since the adrenaline had worn off, I’d developed a chill.
I joined him in bed when I was done. Diem didn’t protest when I curled against his side and weaved our legs together. In fact, he held me as tightly as his injured body would allow. It was then I felt the deep tremors still traveling through his system. Had they been rattling him this whole time?
My head spun with the information I learned at the cabin. Now that the chaos of the night had calmed, it all came back to me. I wanted to tell Diem what I discovered. I wanted to take action and go to the police, but it was the middle of the night, and the last thing Diem needed was more stress. Sleep had her claws in us both.
In the morning we could talk. I needed a second opinion because if what I thought and what I found was true, we’d opened a much bigger can of worms than expected.
***
The house chimed at seven, but since I’d murdered all the clocks in our room the previous morning, the assault was only enoughto stir us awake but not enough for us to launch a full-fledged assault on the B&B.
Diem groaned and stretched, keeping one arm secure around me. It had stayed around me all night, and whenever I tried to move, he growled and pulled me closer.
“Morning.”
He grunted a satisfying Diem noise I was only too happy to hear.
I traced patterns in the swatch of hair beneath his navel and met his sleep-heavy gaze. “How are you feeling?”
