“Grow well, Marshall,” I whisper, shuffling his needles.
Chapter Fifty
Allegiance
“Elisa! Elisa! Baby, wake up!” Aiden’s voice is urgent in my ear, his hand shaking my shoulder gently.
I jolt up, my heart racing.
“What? Aiden, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, love. Here, Bob wants to talk to you.” He shoves his phone into my hand but my fingers are shaking so badly that it drops on the covers twice. Finally, I grip it along with the sheet and press it to my pounding ear.
“Hello?” My voice is in shreds.
“Elisa, Bob here.” His voice echoes in the bedroom, and I realize he’s on speaker.
“Yes?” I clutch Aiden’s hand.
“Did Mr. Hale tell you about the witness?”
“Yes, he said you’d let us know?”
“Yes. Well, I think we have an out, dear. I just got a call from the DOJ. They’ve reviewed the evidence and have put the investigation on pause. They feel they have enough to prosecute Feign.”
“Really?” My voice is going to shatter the glass wall.
“Yes. Obviously they don’t disclose witness names but I got the substance of the testimony. It incriminates Feign enough to charge him.”
“What about my friend? Was there anything there about him?”
“No, dear, but of course, if other clients come forward or the state wants to push maximum sentence, they may rehash it. But by then, hopefully, you’ll have your green card and you can protect your friend.”
I try to fight the warmth on my skin before I lose everything again. “What do we do next?”
“We need to file today and expedite the process in case they pick up again.” Bob’s voice cracks in excitement. It’s not until I hear that note that I start thawing.
“Elisa?”
“Yes?”
“I won’t congratulate you yet but—with crossed fingers—welcome to the United States.”
I listen but I don’t hear. I look but I don’t see. The world falls silent and disappears. An aura of life starts from the soles of my feet and soars to my eyes, incandescent. Then I see her. A little girl with purple eyes and black hair, one hand in her father’s and one in her mum’s in an English rose garden. They lift her up and she giggles. Our eyes meet. Through my tears, she blinks and smiles. Her face changes in slow motion over the years, within reach now, eye to eye. I smile back as she becomes me. This is what dreams are made of. This one belongs to me.
“Elisa, are you there?”
The rose garden disappears. “Yes.”
“The application is ready. Come to my office at four and we’ll sign and seal.” Bob’s joy jolts through the phone and suddenly, the purest laughter I remember bursts from my lips.
I don’t recognize the girl jumping up and down, squealing, bouncing on the bed, and running in circles around Aiden’s bedroom, into his closet, down the hall and back. Amidst the screaming, I hear Bob ordering me not to get into any accidents or commit any misdemeanors before four o’clock.
When he hangs up, I scream some more while ringing Javier and Reagan but neither picks up. I toss the phone across the room and launch myself at Aiden, tackling him to the bed, laughing and kissing every inch I can find.
“Thank you!” I squeal between kisses. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
For the first time in the last six days, he smiles. No sound, no dimple, but still a smile.
“I love you,” I say. My desire is cellular. Not just for his skin or the exterior that contains his soul. I want him inside out.
I expect him to push me away but he doesn’t. There’s indecision in his face but he surrenders with a groan. It’s been too long since he’s kissed me like this. He rolls with me on the bed until his body covers mine and everything that’s not him disappears.
He kisses me in places old and new. The top of my head, along my hairline, my eyelids, temple, eyebrows, nose, cheeks, jawline, throat. Slow like whispers. As if he’s determined to kiss every millimeter of my body. At the realization, I make a decision. It’s time.
“Kiss me here,” I whisper, pointing to the center of my forehead.
His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Elisa, no—”
“Yes. I want you to,” I say with conviction.
He watches me for a long moment, then cups my face with both hands. Slowly, he breathes on my forehead like I did with his scar. I shiver but not in pain. I shiver with pleasure. Then light, like butterfly wings, his lips brush on my forehead once. Somewhere deep, I feel the past sealing.
I bring his mouth to mine and kiss him. Hard and fast like the new life ahead is not long enough. He groans and, abruptly, sits back on his heels. He watches me with burning eyes. That flicker of light is blazing there, strong and wild. Then he grips the hem of my T-shirt and peels it off in one move.
I tense. The bruises!
The snap of his teeth is audible. For a long moment, he is frozen, tension ripping through his body, hands in fists, teeth gnashing, eyes burning.
My first instinct is to cover myself but he bends over me, blowing a gentle gust of breath on my face. Then, slowly, he leans closer to the bruise on my arm. He blows on it too. Like he’s trying to chase it away.
He kisses every contour of his grip, every patch where I slammed against the door. His lips flutter over my skin, across my ribs and to my hips. He peels off the rest of my clothes and rolls me gently on my belly, as he kisses and blows across my shoulders, down my spine. The bruises are swarthy there too. His lips don’t stop. When we’re face-to-face again, there is no part of me he hasn’t kissed and consumed with his eyes. His body covers mine, a balm to my skin.
“Look at me,” he whispers, his voice strangled in my ear.
Our eyes meet as he slides inside me. I welcome him in spasmodic tremor. He buries his face in my hair, covering every inch of me, and starts moving with slow, deep thrusts. I’m lost in Aiden. He’s all I can smell, feel, touch, taste, see. He picks up his hard rhythm—my body molds to him instantly, and I come the only way I know how. Fully and for him alone.
He doesn’t stop. His heart’s craggy rhythm magnifies in my ears as he beats in and out of me. I come again but he keeps going. Like I want him to. No words, only sharp tempests of breath over my skin. He finds my lips. Mouth to mouth, we come at the same time with a violent shudder.
In the afterstorm, he lies with his head on my chest as I cradle him in my arms and legs, playing with his hair. I don’t know for how long—time has stopped having meaning. No more clocks, days, months. Only this road ahead of us that, despite the bruises, from where I’m lying, looks long and beautiful.
At length, his breathing steadies.
“Since this worked out, I think I’ll go stay with the guys at the cabin for a while.” His voice is still husky.
In the depths of my body, two things happen: a chill prickles at the base of my spine and the warm ember kindles between my lungs. “Good. You’ve earned a real vacation since I ruined it in every way.”
“You’ve ruined nothing.”
“How long will you stay?”
“Not long.”
“When are you leaving?”
He inhales behind my ear and kisses my throat. “A few more hours.”
I lock my arms and legs tightly around him. I’ll miss him like air but he needs this.
* * * * *
“Be safe,” Aiden says as Benson stows his suitcase—a reassuringly small weekender—in a navy-and-white Bell 430 helicopter with HALE HOLDINGS printed across its fuselage.
I force a smile but the chills are returning. “I miss you already,” I say, walking into his arms. They wrap around me tightly.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs in my hair. “You’ll get over it in a couple of hours.”
“Not funny.”
For an instant, his eyes shift. It’s too fast before they still again, gleaming with a new focus. More intent—the way one might gaze to decipher something on the horizon.