Page 42 of Free to Breathe
Mentally patting myself on the back, I’m impressed with how good she looks in this particular fantasy of mine. I wonder how long I can keep the illusion of smell going.
It must be because I was in both of her kitchens so recently.
“Is everything okay?” the mirage in front of me asks curiously. The package in her hand shifts from one hand to another. I imagine the smell becomes stronger as it shifts closer to me, as if the real Corinna was standing right in front of me.
“Hmm?” I respond.
Suddenly, the mirage gets impatient. “Wake up, Colby! Are you watching porn on that machine or something? Do I need to get Keene in here to check? He’s already pissy since I asked him to drive me here because I didn’t sleep all damn night,” Corinna snaps.
Holy shit. She’s not a mirage. She’s real.
“C-Corinna,” I stammer. “Shit. I’m sorry.” I power off the computer screen, likely adding more credence to her theory. Quickly standing, I smooth down my dress shirt. “This is a surprise. Please, have a seat.” As she gracefully sits and crosses her legs, still holding on to the package, astonishment might be the best way to describe how I’m feeling. “What can I do for you?”
She tosses her hair over her shoulder and focuses anywhere but on me. Afforded a few moments, I peruse her to my heart’s content. With the angle of her shirt cascading from so high against her neck, and so low against her arm, I catch a glimpse of the side of her amaryllis tattoo where it rests near her heart. When she told me years ago where she had placed her symbol of the Freeman family, I’d hoped one day to see it.
Hell, who am I kidding? I still hold that hope.
Her head is still facing away from me when she starts talking. “I had a visitor before the family dinner yesterday. You know Jack O’Brien, I believe.”
Any semblance of ease I had been experiencing because of our calm conversation evaporates. “Only too well.” I can’t control the rage seeping from my voice.
The poster she’s been reading about Operations Security must be fascinating. She hasn’t looked away from it once since she started talking. I forget about that when her next words penetrate. “Then you might be interested to know when Phil heard Jack call me a low-bred ingrate with a fat ass last night, he knocked him out in front of the family. It was too bad it happened so fast. Holly didn’t get photos. I was going to get us all something printed up with Phil’s fierce expression on it for dinner next week.” Her head turns, and I’m suddenly blinded by something I thought I’d never see again.
Pure discs of gold in Corinna Freeman’s eyes.
“Hand to God, it was a perfect right hook, and had he landed on Phil’s Guccis, I think Phil might have kicked him.” Her voice is pure honey smoothing out all of the rough edges. And although the color doesn’t change, the humor disappears. “Right before that, Jack admitted he stole something from me. Something from you.” Her chest heaves as she tries to control the waver in her voice. “Things that should have been delivered to me long ago.”
Is she talking about the letters? I stare at her, unable to say a word. I nod instead.
Corinna stands. I rise as well. “Keene’s waiting to drive me back home, but…you’ll see after you open the package.” She pushes the box into my hands, and the smell I thought was a hallucination overwhelms my nose.
Caramel chocolate brownies. I’d recognize it anywhere. I gape at the package, then at her as she moves toward the door. “Don’t wait too long to open it. It almost didn’t make it here in one piece.” She gives me a hesitant smile before she opens my office door and slips out.
Falling back into my chair, I would have sworn I’d just experienced the best dream of my life if I wasn’t holding the living proof in my hands. Knowing Corinna’s correct about the food savages I work with, I quickly open the white box.
And find a letter addressed to me on top in her beautiful handwriting. Only, it’s not addressed to “Colby” or even “Colby Hunt.” It’s addressed to my full military address from ten years ago.
God, she got the letters.
Using the iPad Caleb and Keene showed me how to work for security matters, I engage the locks on my office door. Forgetting about the brownies, I slide the box to the side before sitting back in my chair.
What did I even say in that first letter? What did I ask her? I know I told her over and over in every single one how much I missed her in my life. I’m in shock to find my hands shaking as I hold her letter. Even though I’m scared—no, terrified—to see what she wrote, I need to read her words on the page.
The way I should have seen them so long ago.
I tear into the letter.
Dear Colby,
As you might know, your letters were a bit delayed. Next time, you might want to try a better mail carrier if you expect them to reach me anywhere close to when you send them.
I can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes me. With my lips twitching, I keep reading.
Please accept the welcome home gift I should have baked for you a long time ago. We are all glad to have you home safe from your last mission. And it’s to my shame I never properly let you know that.
It’s early morning now. After reading your first letter from so many years ago, I have to admit, I’m baffled.
What did you want from me then?
