Page 563 of The Harmless Series

Trepidation fills her face.

“Because there is nothing to forgive. You did what you needed to do to protect your own wholeness, Lindsay. No one ever needs to apologize for that.”

“But I -- ”

“In fact, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t do all those things.”

“Let me finish!” Her eyes shine with tears, her voice still off-kilter, scratchy. “I know I don’t need your forgiveness, Drew. I want it.”

When too much emotion hits me at once, I wall it off. Human beings only have so much capacity for processing. For action. For reaction.

My instinct is to retreat.

I have to override instinct and remain. Be in the present moment.

Show up.

“Then I need to ask for the same from you, Lindsay. Will you forgive me?”

She nods once, tears spilling over her lower eyelids, the drops rolling down, magnifying the plethora of healing cuts and scrapes across her beautiful, beautiful face.

“I do.”

Oh, those words.

“And I do, too, baby.” I want to reach for her, pull her into my arms and hold her forever. The space between us narrows, emotion deepening.

“Come here,” she beckons, her good hand patting the space on the bed. She shifts as much as she can, then wipes her tears from her face, wincing. “Be close to me. Be as close as you can.”

I comply. That’s the best order anyone has ever given me.

And good soldiers obey good orders.

Awkward and clumsy, we twist and turn, trying to find a good way to be in each other’s arms. She snort-giggles, I sigh in frustration, and our faces bump against each other, the lightest brush of nose against nose, until suddenly I’m tasting her, and Lindsay’s good hand is on my jacket lapel, clutching it hard.

No kiss has ever been so needed. No kiss has ever tasted so divine. No kiss has ever bridged so many miles, too many traumas. I want to let her lead the way but desire clings to me like her hand and I give in. My body moves against hers. She’s pressing into me, her mouth eager but careful. Soon we’re lost in the swirling vortex of each other. Giving in to the dizzy divine is a relief.

No restraint.

No walls.

No shields.

Just us.

Lindsay pulls back with a tiny cry and holds her fingers up to her swollen lip. Her eyes are an apology. “Sorry. It split.” She gives me a crooked grin, then just looks at me with raw tenderness, vulnerable and real. I hate the torn lip. I hate the bruises. I hate that her face looks like a calico cat, orange and yellow, mottled – yet her eyes glow with an alert love that I hope I’m sending back to her, amplified.

I brush her hair off her forehead and smile right back, blood racing, heart strong and true.

“She’s back,” I whisper, low and sincere. “Lindsay really is back.”

Chapter 16

Drew

Lindsay and I are standing outside Harry’s office, about to go in for the monster of all debriefings. So is Monica, along with Silas and Mark Paulson. The hospital discharged Lindsay yesterday and we spent a quiet night at her house. Monica and Harry were in D.C. I slept in Lindsay’s bed, just holding her.

Neither one of us had nightmares.

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