Page 46 of Valor (Long Hot Summer: Christian Romantic Suspense #2)

LANI

“So you have no idea how those emails were sent from your computer?” Tucker asks.

Since my parents went down to the cafeteria for dinner, Tucker’s been filling me in on everything I missed. Telling me about the investigation and how they traced forged emails back to my computer. “I have no clue,” I reply honestly. “I mean, all of our computers are password-protected to ensure patient confidentiality. The nursing staff may be able to get into the room, but they can’t access the computers.”

He leans back. “Which means that someone cracked your password.”

“I guess? I don’t know how though. I kept it exactly as you told me to.”

“You did,” he replies, a proud smile on his face. “I mean, I got in, but no one else should have been able to without the formula I gave you for putting it together.”

But they did get in. And not just that, they hacked into the email accounts of our potential doctors. How? Who is after me and why?

With Tucker and my parents here all day, I haven’t been able to really think about what happened to me over the last couple of days. It’s been too easy to distract myself. Which I can’t exactly complain about. The idea of reliving it all even for a moment?—

“You okay, sis?” Tucker asks, leaning forward and speaking softly.

I force a smile despite the emotion burning in my throat. The last thing I want is him to see the battle currently wreaking havoc in my mind. He’s literally been behind enemy lines, his twin, Dylan, tortured to within an inch of his life.

In comparison to everything my brothers have faced, the last three days don’t even come close. And look how strong they are. How they handle the demons in their past without so much as breaking a sweat.

I can only pretend to be that strong.

“I’m okay. Just really tired.”

His expression betrays the fact that he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying, but before he can press, the door opens and what’s left of my heart these days walks into the room, carrying a brown paper bag that smells suspiciously like delicious diner food. “Hey,” he greets.

“Hey.”

Tucker stands. “I’ll head down and join Mom and Dad.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I love you, Lani. You don’t have to pretend you’re not hurting. I see it in your eyes because I recognize the pain.” He whispers the words, which only make my eyes fill.

“Thank you, Tucker,” I manage.

He smiles, then pats Gibson on the shoulder as he leaves and closes the door behind him.

I clear my throat. “What’s that?”

“A French dip with extra fries and a cheeseburger with extra mustard and onion rings.”

“Both my favorites. There anything in that bag for you?”

He remains near the table, not coming any closer. “I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, and I wanted to make sure you got what you want.”

Something in his tone sets me on edge. “What is it?”

He shakes his head. “Let’s eat first, okay?”

Even as I’m desperate to know what’s on his mind, I nod. “Okay.”

With a single nod, he takes a seat beside the bed and opens the bag. A mouthwatering aroma fills the air. “What are you in the mood for?”

“The French dip,” I reply. “And half fries, half onion rings.”

He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Exactly what I thought you’d want.”

“Did you get mayonnaise?”

“And ketchup,” he says. “Even as disgusting as it is.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” I say, just as I do every time he questions my culinary choices. It’s so normal, so absolutely normal that it helps me feel a bit better than I have all day.

“You got me to eat pineapple on pizza, Lani, but I draw the line at the mayo and ketchup mix.”

Pineapple on pizza.

It floods back to me, hitting me out of nowhere and knocking the good mood right out of me. The memory and waking up in that closet, thinking—for a moment—that I was back in my living room beside Gibson. The sobs come fast, and my shoulders begin to shake. “I’m sorry,” I choke out, embarrassment flushing my cheeks. Still, I can’t make it stop.

Once the gates are opened, everything comes out all at once.

I’m not sure how long I’ve cried, but after lowering the guard on the side, Gibson slides onto the thin mattress and pulls me against him. I roll on my side and bury my face against his strong chest, tears flowing freely as all of the pain, fear, and anger that I’ve tried to bury today comes flooding to the surface.

It hurts to breathe.

The nightmares continue to assault me—I’m not even sure how long—but the entire time I break down, Gibson is right there, doing what he can to hold me together.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head and clings to me, whispering against the top of my head. It takes me a few minutes to realize it’s a prayer.

He’s praying over me.

For me.

With me.

“I don’t get it,” I say through the tears. “I don’t know what I did. Why me?”

“You did nothing. You hear me?” he says. “None of this is your fault.”

I shake my head. “Someone hates me enough that they abducted me and chopped off my hair, Gibson. I can’t understand why. I’m a good person. Or at least, I try to be. I help my patients. I volunteer. I do what I can, so why did this happen?” The sobbing continues, my shoulders shaking. I suck in breath after breath, trying so hard to regulate my breathing so I don’t push myself into a full-on panic attack.

But it just keeps coming.

All while he clings to me, grounding me in this reality so I’m not completely taken over by the nightmare still fresh in my mind. “I can’t tell you why, but I promise you that we’re going to figure it out. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure this never happens to you again. No one will ever hurt you ever again, Lani.” He presses another kiss to the top of my head, then rests his cheek against my hair.

My tears begin to subside, but the pain is still there.

The fear.

Will it ever go away?

“I’m scared,” I whisper. “I’m so scared, Gibson.”

“I know you are,” he replies. There’s no ‘but,’ no mountain of reasons I shouldn’t be scared, just an acknowledgment of the emotion burning a larger hole in my heart every passing second.

Minutes tick by as I do what I can to gather myself together. Gibson remains a solid strength beside me, not letting me go and not pressuring me to talk until I’m ready. As soon as I can draw a steady breath, I wipe my eyes and lean back to look up into his eyes.

He’s staring down at me, gaze shimmering with tears. Because I need it, and I sense he does, too, I stretch up and press my lips to his.

It’s a whisper of contact, just a brush of my mouth against his, but as he cups my face, the kiss deepens, turning into a need to burn the pain from my soul, leaving only this.

Me and him.

Him and me.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss first and resting his forehead against mine. “You will always have me. And I will do whatever I can to keep you safe.”

The pain I’m carrying lifts slightly. “I know.”

Gibson’s fingers brush my hair behind my ear. “I hope you know how much you mean to me. How much you’ve always meant to me.”

Before I can respond, he kisses me quickly, then reaches over to retrieve the bag of food. We’re crowded in this hospital bed, with me pinned beneath the blankets and him stretched on top of them, but I’m so glad he doesn’t leave. The closeness of him helps me to feel not so lost.

“Now let’s get some real food in you.”

“I’m sorry it’s not warm.” I wipe my eyes.

“It’s perfect,” he replies. “And so are you.”