I fucking love you too much.
She clawed her way out of whatever drug-induced hole Dimitru had thrown her into. Her heart pounded faster; noise filled her head and pounded against her skull. Loud, thumping, rhythmic. She moaned. When a sharp pain stabbed her arm, she woke with a jolt and screamed. She reached for her arm, but found herself strapped down.
Panic hit her, making her struggle. She couldn’t catch her breath.
Someone put a hand on her shoulder and yelled something over her head. Marie focused. Scrubs. Headset. Rotors. A nurse. Marie grabbed her hand. “Hurts.”
The woman plunged something into the IV at Marie’s elbow. Warmth started in her arm and spread through her body, relieving the pain.
“Malcolm,” she whispered, barely able to keep her eyes open.
The second medic smiled down at her and patted her head. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
She struggled to make sense of it. Had Malcolm been shot? Had she failed to stop Dimitru? “Where is…” Her voice faded.
“Don’t worry about it now. You’ll see him later.”
The pain dissipated, and so did her consciousness.
***
Don’t you dare die.
Marie woke with a start, sweat dripping down her temples. She kicked the white blanket off her legs and forced air into her lungs.
Alone. She was completely alone. Because she’d failed. She was responsible.
She’d insisted on stealing the stupid armband—
The armband.
On. Her. Arm.
Frantic, Marie gripped the gold on her arm, pulled it off, drew back, and let it fly with a frustrated yell. Malcolm opened the door, ducked and snatched it from the air. He had a coffee in the other hand, and he lifted his brow.
“Malcolm,” she said. Her brain couldn’t keep up. He was dead; she hadn’t stopped the bullet. She cried. He set his coffee on the side table. The worry on his face made her cry harder. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried herself into his embrace. He hesitated only a moment before he circled her with his strong arms. “Hey, hey, hey now,” he said, making comforting noises. He was actually pretty good at it, even if he made her cry more. “Do you need a doctor?” he asked, tipping her head back. “Are you in pain or something?”
“No. I’m sorry. I thought—” She cleared her throat. “I messed everything up, Malcolm. I broke the law.” Her throat tightened. “I’m going to jail, and, and…and I deserve it. I thought you were dead. Uncle Bert’s dead. The amulet has left me with no one.”
“He’s not dead,” Malcolm said.
“What?” She sat up straighter, noticing for the first time Malcolm was in his regular clothes, his skinny black jeans and a flannel. He’d showered, too. “He was shot.”
“He survived.”
Her lips trembled; her hands shook. “Is he here? Can I see him?”
“He’s in surgery, Marie.”
“But he’s alive?”
“Yes.”
She cried into his flannel shirt, smelled his familiar cologne, and wanted to wrap herself up in it forever. Marie tapped her forehead against his sternum. “Thank God.”
He paused and then said, “Or something.” He ran a finger over the armband as he set it on the bed next to her.
Her heart fell a little. “My parents are dead. My uncle is still dying, and I have to face the consequences, face the charges made against me.”
“I doubt it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dimitru is dead.” Malcolm stepped back and cupped her face. “The bullet wound shouldn’t have been fatal—”
“Holy cow.” She needed to get up, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She stopped. “He’s really dead?”
Malcolm ran a hand over her hair and touched gently at the bruises on her face. “He would have gone to jail for a long time. But in the end, he wouldn’t quit. And then he went after you—”
“He pointed his gun at you,” she said.
He shook his head. “It wasn’t me he wanted to hurt,” he whispered.
She stared at him as his words hit her. Dimitru had seen what she hadn’t even been able to voice yet. How?
Malcolm was still talking, though, not knowing how badly it hurt her that she was the one who had veered so off course. She’d been in lust with Malcolm for so long. Now he loved her. And she was the one who’d been holding back.
“And…the armband, Marie. I’ve seen some crazy things in my life, you know? But I’ve never seen gold—”
“Don’t even say it.” The force of fear rushing through her shocked her. She grabbed his forearms and squeezed, needing him to listen. “It’s a stupid myth. It’s peasant ignorance.”
“You’re alive. Uncle Bert is alive.” He sat next to her on the bed.
“You can’t be serious right now.” The fear choked her. “Please.” She didn’t even know what she was asking for—for him to be rational? To tell her all the fucking hocus-pocus would go away, and she wouldn’t have to live with it anymore, ever?
“Dimitru was going to kill me, he would have killed you, and he’d already tried to kill Uncle Bert.” He said it so matter-of-factly, like Uncle Bert had for all these years. His hands shook a little when he cupped her cheek. “Maybe it’s not the amulet, Marie. Maybe it’s just fate or good luck. But Uncle Bert was shot twice and he’s still alive.”
“And dying of cancer,” she added.
Malcolm sighed, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head.
A nurse walked in, taking a look at the two of them, and grabbed the chart. “Oh, the little miss is awake. Doctor’s going to want to come in and do an exam. Gave us a scare there, dear. If you’ll excuse for a minute, sir?”
Malcolm started to get up, and for some crazy reason, her heart pounded harder.
“He’ll only be out in the hall,” the nurse said, as if she knew, and then muttered as she messed with the machines next to her, “Like he has been for the past twelve hours. Silly man, like we’re not going to take care of you or something.” She winked at Marie. “Lie back down now, dear. I promise he’ll return as soon as the doctor’s done looking you over.”
Marie swallowed and nodded, but her eyes followed Malcolm until he reached the door. “Malcolm,” she called out.
He stopped to look at her.
“I fucking love you, too.”
He grinned, and she relaxed her death grip on her sheet.
“Well, that makes so much more sense now.” The nurse laughed loudly. “He is quite handsome when he smiles, isn’t he? So far it’s been nothing but angry scowls.”
Marie finally laughed. “That’s my Malcolm.”
She didn’t really know what she would do next. But she had Malcolm, and somehow, that seemed like an okay place to be.
***
“What do you mean?” Malcolm was having a standoff with the youthful female doctor who had declared Marie was ready to go home.
“She’s healthy. Her recovery time has been fairly miraculous, if you must know. Her blood count is normal, her labs are clear of the drugs, the beating she took is fading, and her arm was clean and healing nicely before she even got here—no infection.”
Malcolm frowned down at Marie, who was acting nonchalant. But her hand covered the gold armband protectively…suspiciously, as if she was also starting to believe.
“Look, some things are unexplainable, Mr. Daniels. I’ve seen things happen in a hospital that should be absolutely impossible.” The doctor put a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “You’re one of the lucky ones. Take it. Take the blessing and go. Be happy. Take her out to dinner; she’s probably starving for something other than mashed potatoes and Jell-O.”
“Oh yes.” Marie smiled.
He wasn’t looking for trouble, really. But it had only been two days. They’d said to expect her to need at least four days, probably more like a week, to make enough of a recovery to leave.
“Please, Malcolm. Let’s go see Uncle Bert and then go home.”
Well, that did it. He wanted to take her home. He wanted to dive into her and never come up for air.
“Great,” the doctor said. “I’ll get the paperwork together while you wheel her over to the ICU. You should be out of here within the hour.”
After she changed, Malcolm pushed the empty wheelchair while they walked over to ICU, her in the clothes he’d brought for her. She slowed as they approached Uncle Bert’s door.
“Come on. Uncle Bert’s waiting.” The fear in her eyes set Malcolm back. “What is it, Marie?”
Tears sprang to her eyes, but she cleared her throat and shook her head. “I’m ready.”
He held back as she went through the door and stood to watch her. Her usual confidence struggled to break free, until she was almost to the bed and she straightened her posture, probably putting a smile on her face as Bert looked up at her. He reached for her.
Bert pulled her in and folded her into his arms. She was speaking, her words tumbling out of her. Though Malcolm couldn’t make them out, he could tell Uncle Bert was arguing with whatever she said.
Until he finally gave her a solid shake.
Malcolm forced himself not to rush forward. This was Uncle Bert.
And his approach proved Uncle Bert was still being gentle, and Malcolm was being an overprotective ass. If he wasn’t careful, he might push her away by hovering too closely. He wasn’t sure he knew the appropriate balance, though. And it was going to take a while to get things back to normal.
Uncle Bert waved him over. “Thank you, Malcolm. Thank you for saving my girl.”
He shrugged, giving Bert a stupid-ass grin, as if it didn’t matter at all, even though he understood and knew it did. “What was I to do? She had the gold.”
Marie laughed and rolled her eyes. Something had set her right, something about being here with her uncle.
“When I am out of here, I will come home and we will feast,” Bert said. “We will drink Țuică—”
“You’ll rest until you are better.” Her voice shook, but Malcolm knew she was pleased by how well Bert seemed. “Let’s not overdo it, now.”
“Not possible for my Marie and her knight in shining armor who saves the day,” Bert said.
A blush rose on her cheeks as she glanced at Malcolm, making direct eye contact for the first time since they’d left her room. The shyness made her pretty. He was seeing a side of her he’d never been witness to before.
And he promised himself, as they said their goodbyes, he was going to figure out what was going on inside her head.
***
As they drove toward the coast, the clouds broke over them, letting the sun shine down with its late afternoon warmth. Marie was not sleeping, but she was quiet. And the quiet was making him nervous. Her hand went to the gold on her arm. He was surprised when she’d put it back on, and there it stayed. Hadn’t come off since.
“He looked good, right?”
Malcolm took her hand. “He looked tired, but alive and stubborn about you going home and recuperating before you come back.”
“I’m fine.”
His head knew she needed time to process everything. He knew her, knew she’d be thinking about her future, thinking about her past, the armband, her job. It was a part of her he hadn’t seen when they first met. She’d taken everything breezily.
Now, her silence made him nervous. Was she rethinking them?
Would he have to be okay with her rethinking them?
When he pulled into the driveway forty minutes later, Marie showed her first sign of life when she sat up and looked out the front window. The entire scene was washed in an almost surreal orange glow of the afternoon sun as it started its descent to the horizon.
He heard the intake of her breath.
“It’s so pretty.”
He was thinking it looked the same, if not even a little more worn down. It looked like the place she’d had to fight for her life—in more ways than one.
As if sensing his disagreement, she turned to him. “Don’t you think?”
He pulled to a stop at the end of the drive and put the car in park then leaned over the steering wheel. He sighed, because instead of only seeing a house, a crime scene, he saw her there, standing on the porch, calling to him from the back stoop. He saw her on the beach below and in the bed upstairs where they’d slept together. “It is,” he finally answered. “Prettier with you in it, though.”
Her smile came slowly, as if she had a shy bone in her body, and he knew she didn’t—hadn’t until now.
Malcolm took her hand, turned it over, and kissed her palm.
One day at a time.
He could do that.
He could do anything with her in his life and alive.