Page 35 of Release

I hang back to let Tyson, Aussie, Ryder, and Logan sweep in and swarm George. I know the only reason I’m here is because George specifically asked the officials to let me be here. Otherwise, since I’m not immediate “family,” I’d be relegated to waiting with the rest of the crowd, and the press, who are all assembled out in the main terminal.

I don’t speak or interrupt. I stand back and wait, because it’s not my place to shove in there uninvited, friend or not. But Chase walks over to me and gives me a long, strong hug.

He’s a good man, and in another world, another time, I might have accepted the opening that’s there, and which has been for years, and pursue something with him.

But I can’t. Especially not now. Because of Declan, for starters, although no one but Ellen knows about us. Then there’s the fact that my first priority is George and the kids, because Ihaveto be there. Because I loved Ellen, and I can’tnotbe there for them now. They’re the kids I never had, the kids she always wanted and probably never would have had if she’d stayed with me, because I never wanted kids.

It’s about five minutes later when George finally looks up from where he’s once again hugged Aussie and his gaze locks with mine. I’d been doing pretty good not crying until that happened. I got him a new phone and sent it with Chase, reloaded everyone’s contacts into it so he’d be able to communicate.

George told me the night he called me that the only two numbers he had memorized were Ellen’s and mine. Which was why he called me first.

We’ve talked on the phone multiple times every day since his rescue, and texted, but mostly business, work, logistics.

We haven’t gotten…personal. Not really.

He knows me well enough to know when not to touch that third rail with me.

But without looking away, he releases Aussie and takes a couple of steps toward me, his arms opening, and I go to him. He buries his face in my hair and doesn’t say anything at first, for at least a minute.

I press my face to his chest, my eyes closed. I specifically didn’t wear makeup this morning because I knew I’d cry. “You fucking scared me, you motherfucker,” I whisper. “You know how much work you’ve missed?”

A small sound escapes him, something I’m sure under other circumstances would be a laugh. He used to laugh easily and all the time.

“Slave driver,” he whispers as he tightens his embrace.

I’m afraid to hug him too hard because he feels frail, every damn rib palpable. “Someone has to keep your ass in line, you know.” We’re still whispering.

“I love you, Case,” he says a minute or so later.

“Love you, too, George.”

“Please tell me you haven’t found another job yet.”

“You mean besides my new gig as the governor’s chief of staff? Because that’s what I’ve been telling people I am ever since you called and woke me up in the middle of the night and gave me a damn heart attack, you rat bastard.”

He chuckles, a real one this time. Then he nuzzles his head against mine, his face in my hair, and inhales. I made sure to wash my hair this morning with the same brand of shampoo Ellen used. Plus, Ellen and I were nearly the same height, so I know this has to be a form of comfort for him.

“I can’t do this without you, Case,” he says, his whisper choked and thick with pain. “Thank you for being there for them, but Ineedyou now. I’m going to need you for a long damn time.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Governor Forrester. You’re stuck with me and Declan for the duration. No one else but us would put up with your cranky ass, anyway.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead, lingering, and I’m in no hurry to end this.

This is a damn miracle, and I know it.

I’m just glad my girl wasn’t alone when she died. That he was with her, that he was literally holding her hand. That she felt loved and had one of the best times of her life in those last two weeks before she died.

That she didn’t suffer. That it was so quick she literally didn’t feel it.

I couldn’t have asked for more than that. As cowardly as this sounds, I’m glad I wasn’t there. I might have died with her, or the grief of losing her might have killed me.

Or revealed our secret to George.

In retrospect, I feel vaguely guilty I assumed he was dead, because I was too emotional to think that maybe the reason Ellen’s jewelry was gone was because George took it off her body before he evacuated from the plane.

There was no way I could have jumped to that conclusion, at the time. Yet in retrospect, I feel guilty for abandoning hope, for leaving and not being there when they rescued him.

I don’t know how I’m going to move forward from this point, but I am glad George survived. He has three kids who love and need him, and two brothers who look up to him.