Page 65 of Todd
The memories of those suffocating months flooded back—the oppressive heat that seemed to press against her skin like a living thing, the crowds that made simple errands feel like military operations, the constant noise that prevented the kind of quiet reflection she craved during such an emotional time.
“She lived in a senior villa community in central Florida. The people were lovely… really kind to both of us, bringing casseroles and offering to help with anything we needed. But it was hot and crowded and bustling with activity twenty-four hours a day. Sometimes when I’d walk out of the house needing a breath of fresh air, there was none to be found. Just heat and humidity, and always someone around. I had to fight through traffic to get to the grocery store, the pharmacy, or the doctor’s office. And then there was the hospital.” She shuddered, the institutional smells and sounds flooding back with visceral intensity.
Understanding dawned across Todd’s features like sunrise, his expression softening with compassion as he leaned forwardand captured her restless hand in his warm grip. “And that’s why you hate hospitals.”
“Yes,” she confirmed, grateful that he understood without requiring a detailed explanation. “The smells and the crowds, the fluorescent lighting that makes everything look overly harsh. Eating cafeteria food that tasted like cardboard while feeling guilty because Mom couldn’t keep anything down. The endless waiting, the beeping machines, the constant parade of medical staff speaking in clinical terms about the woman who meant everything to me.”
Her voice grew softer, more vulnerable, as she approached the heart of her story. “But I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Finally, when the pain medication couldn’t help anymore and we both knew the time had come, I climbed into the narrow hospital bed with her and held her as she took her last breath.”
The memory was simultaneously her most precious and most painful. She would always remember the weight of her mother’s frail body in her arms, the gradual stilling of her chest, the moment when the woman who’d been her anchor in the world had simply... stopped.
They sat in silence for a long moment, Todd’s thumb tracing gentle circles across her knuckles while she gathered the emotional strength to continue. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the kind of quiet reverence reserved for sacred things. “You were a good daughter.”
The simple declaration hit her like a physical blow, tears stinging her eyes as grief and guilt and desperate hope for validation crashed over her. “I hope I was,” she whispered, her voice less steady than she’d intended. “I never complained to her, not once, even when I wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. She wanted to be cremated and buried in the family plot in Maryland next to her parents. I sold everything in her villa. All the furniture, clothes, and the little trinkets she’dcollected during her Florida years. I only kept the things that had sentimental value to me. Two weeks after the celebration of life held at the villa’s community house, I loaded my car and left.”
“How did you find out about LSIMT?” Todd asked, his question providing a bridge away from the raw emotion and toward safer conversational territory.
“Just like your siblings were already employed by Lighthouse Security, I had a former colleague who’d worked with Carson Dyer in the military before he moved to California to create the West Coast branch of LSI. He reached out when he heard I was transitioning. I chatted with Carson over the phone, and he recommended me to Logan.”
“California’s loss is definitely Logan’s gain,” Todd said, his voice carrying warmth that made her pulse quicken. “My gain, as well.”
She held his gaze and smiled, feeling lighter after finally sharing the story that had shaped so much of who she’d become. The hospital room seemed less oppressive now, the atmosphere softened by the intimacy of confession and acceptance.
“When I interviewed with Logan, he asked me about living in Montana and whether I thought I could handle the isolation and climate. I told him a little about what I’d been through in Florida—the heat, the crowds, the feeling of being constantly surrounded by noise and activity. And then I told him that when I stepped off the plane in Montana, for the first time in a long time, I could breathe. The air was clean and fresh, and that’s what I wanted more than anything else… a chance to have some space and a chance to breathe again.”
Todd winced visibly, his expression filling with regret that made her chest ache. “And right after you told Logan that, I opened my mouth and completely fucked everything up.”
She squeezed his hand, finding comfort in the solid warmth of his palm against hers. “Granted, it was a hard thing to hear atthe time. Your dismissal felt like another abandonment, another man deciding I wasn’t worth fighting for. But I think it might have been better for us in the long run.”
“Why do you say that?” Todd’s chin jerked back, confusion evident in his voice.
“Because we’ve had a year and a half to get to know each other as people, not just as lovers caught up in physical attraction,” she explained, finding clarity in the emotional chaos. “All we knew after that first night was that we had incredible chemistry in the bedroom?—”
“You can say that again,” Todd interrupted, his smile wide, obviously remembering the shared passion. “I’ve thought of nothing but those fireworks for the past eighteen months!”
Heat flooded her cheeks at his vehement declaration, but she nodded slowly, her lips curving in acknowledgment. “Me too.” The admission felt liberating, a weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. “But now we’ve had the chance to see if we’re compatible on levels that extend far beyond physical attraction. We’ve taken our time to learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses, to see how we work together under pressure, and to build respect, trust, and genuine affection. You were right to call a halt to things that morning. Trying to build a relationship while getting established in new careers could have ruined everything if we hadn’t handled it correctly.”
Todd’s expression grew increasingly uncertain, vulnerability replacing confusion as he processed her words. “So what are you saying? I feel like I’m hanging by a thread here, and I need to know where we stand.”
The raw honesty in his voice and the way his eyes searched her face for reassurance made her realize she’d been speaking in careful terms as her way to maintain emotional distance. But Todd had just opened his heart completely, had confessedmonths of suppressed love and regret and desperate hope. He deserved the same courage from her.
She leaned closer, close enough to see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, close enough to smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the antiseptic hospital air. “I’m saying that I’m also ready for us to be more than just coworkers and friends, Todd. I’m saying that I’ve been falling in love with you every single day for eighteen months, and I’m tired of pretending that professional boundaries are more important than what we could build together.”
The smile that spread across his face was like watching the sun rise over the Montana mountains—slow, brilliant, and absolutely breathtaking. In that hospital room, surrounded by the reminders of mortality and fragility, Sadie felt something she hadn’t experienced since her mother’s death—the possibility of a future filled with love and partnership and the kind of happiness she’d thought was reserved for other people.
Finally, she thought as Todd’s hand tightened on hers with possession and promise in equal measure.Finally, we’re both brave enough to fight for what we want.
33
The soft knock on Sadie’s hospital room door interrupted what had felt like the most important conversation of Todd’s life, pulling his attention away from the woman whose confession had just opened up his entire understanding of her and their future together. Cole’s familiar silhouette filled the doorway, his expression apologetic.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Cole said, his gaze moving between Todd and Sadie with the tactful awareness of someone who recognized a private moment when he saw one. “But Agent Rodriguez needs to speak with us. Quick debrief on the operation’s aftermath.”
Todd felt his protective instincts flare immediately, his hand tightening on Sadie’s as if physical contact could anchor her to safety. “I don’t want Sadie to have to deal with anything else right now?—”
“It’s okay,” Cole acknowledged. “She’ll just talk to us.”
Todd nodded but sighed. He and Sadie had finally broken through months of careful distance and found the courage to admit what had been burning between them since that first night they’d met. The thought of leaving her alone, even briefly, cut into the conversation they were having. But Sadie neededrest, and he didn’t want her bothered by whatever the agent had to say.
