Breaking Point (35 page)

He didn’t respond at first, but then nodded once, seemingly at a loss for words.

I sat down on our clothing and he kneeled before me, holding my face in his hands, his bruised thumbs stroking my cheekbones.
This is it,
I thought, swallowing. And I didn’t even have to remind myself to remember this, because I knew without a doubt, I would.

But his eyes drifted over my bare shoulder, to the floor and his coat, and his brows pulled together.

I covered my chest with one arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Is this okay?” The vulnerability in his gaze startled me. Made me realize he wasn’t asking if I was okay with this dusty room, but with him.

“Yes.”

He said nothing for a moment, then blinked. “You wouldn’t regret…”

“No,” I said. My eyes lowered.

He hesitated. “I’ve screwed up so much already. If you had second thoughts…”

“I wouldn’t,” I said.

He sighed through his teeth. “You say that now.” But he was already leaning back over me, brushing my hair out of my eyes and skimming his fingertips along my jaw.

“I wouldn’t,” I whispered again. “This might be our only chance.”

He stopped. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said hurriedly.

He sat back. “What do you mean?”

I pulled his jacket over my shoulders, feeling very exposed suddenly.

“We don’t have much time left in case … you know. In case something happens tomorrow.”

His jaw fell slack. “You’re not planning on coming back.”

“I am. I mean, I want to.”
As if dying were a choice?
I stared at my feet. “You haven’t thought about it?”

He jolted up and began to pace, leaving me alone on the floor.

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” he said roughly.

“Then what is it?”

“I’ll find you. If something happens I’ll find you. We’ll be okay. We’re going to South Carolina.” He sounded so desperate to believe that truth that I knew it was thin enough to shatter.

“And if it’s not okay?”

“It will be!” he shouted, making my back straighten. He inhaled sharply, trying to recompose himself.

“You’re not going.”

“Chase—”

“
You
don’t even think you’re going to live through this! What was I thinking?”

I stood as tall as I could, the tears threatening to spill over. My heart was breaking. I could feel it tearing apart inside of me. He knew, he
had
to know what this felt like, this guilt-punched hole inside of me.

“You were thinking that if
you
could change things, you would,” I said.

My mother’s spirit filled the room. Without blame or accusation, but she was there nonetheless.

He stopped suddenly and stared out the window, not at the facility, but down the street at the barracks where he’d lived when we’d been apart.

A minute passed. Two.

“I would do anything to bring her back,” he murmured.

“I love you.”

The words were out before I’d even thought to say them, released by some force beyond my control. Instantly they consumed me, overwhelmed me, like the fact of my love was the only truth I’d ever known. The only truth there was.
Chase Jennings, I love you. I love the boy you were and the man that you’ve become and even when I don’t like you at all I still love you because you are you, kind and safe and good, because you understand me and are not afraid.

As the honesty of my words sunk in, he became very still. Statue still. And I waited, more raw and vulnerable than ever.

He took a long shaking breath, and in it, my heart clutched.

“You don’t fight fair.”

“Yeah, well, neither do you,” I said. It was true. Risks weren’t so risky when you had no one to lose.

With a short, dry chuckle he came to me and wrapped his arms around my waist and lowered his forehead to mine, closing his eyes. My fingers traced the pink corkscrew scar across his biceps, and I was reminded of a day he’d nearly died for my protection.

“Now’s where you say it back,” I prompted.

“Say what?” When I hit him he grabbed my hand and pressed it against his chest. “I love you, Em. I’ve loved you since I was eight years old, and I’ll love you my whole life.”

His smile was so unguarded, so true. The tears clouded my vision, and my chest hurt, and I didn’t know how it was possible to feel so happy and so terrified at the same time.

“What happens now?” My hands flattened over his chest.

“Now I go find Tucker,” he said reluctantly.

Of all the things I’d hoped he’d say, this was not one of them.

“Why?”

He kissed my temple, letting his lips linger there while he continued. “Because tomorrow, I need him to do what I can’t.”

*   *   *

CHASE
came back an hour later looking edgy. I didn’t know what he’d said to Tucker, and he didn’t offer it. Instead we sat beside each other, watching the rehab center, and talked,
really
talked. About everything else.

We talked about Cara, about Wallace and Billy, about Sean and Tucker and Rebecca. About the guys from Chicago, and how I’d found Jack, in shock, on the tunnel floor, and seen my mother in some concussion-induced vision. We talked about Beth and the place we’d once called home, knowing that history carried itself in the body and soul, not a physical location, not in letters burned in a fire or a magazine trapped beneath the rubble, and that now we had each other when we needed to remember. And we kissed. Sometimes gently, sometimes with the same frenzied passion as before. Sometimes in the middle of our sentences, when we’d simply forget what we were talking about. In those short hours we purged our secrets and held each other and prayed that time would both slow and hasten because just like the night before he was drafted, we knew tomorrow would leave us forever changed.

Eventually, I fell asleep on the floor with my head on his thigh. The last thing I remembered was the feel of his fingers combing through my hair.

*   *   *

BEFORE
dawn he snuck across the street to the hospital parking garage with the spare key given to us by Chicago. I bit my nails to nubs until light, when he pulled out onto the street like any other driver, and appeared around the backside of the abandoned building in an FBR van. Tucker sat in the front, and Sean and I slipped silently into the middle row of seats, where I rubbed the St. Michael pendant around my neck and hoped that I hadn’t used up all its luck.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you backed out.” It took me a moment to realize Sean was talking to me, not Tucker.

Was he crazy? Our plan was contingent on my presence. “I’m not going to back out.”

He nodded out the window, as if expecting this answer.

“What if I said I didn’t want you to come?”

“I’d say good luck getting Rebecca without me.”

He shrugged. “I’d figure something out.”

“Well you don’t have to,” I said. “I’m coming.”

He was quiet for a several seconds. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? I’m not losing you, too.”

“Sean.” I forced a smile, but it might have looked a little scary. “When have I ever done anything stupid?”

“Perfect,” he muttered.

It took less than five minutes to reach an intersection with Reformation Parkway. My pulse thrummed with the engine motor as we weaved through other FBR vehicles onto the main street. Chase slowly veered across the lane to park in front of Horizons Physical Rehabilitation.

The sidewalk was crowded with people. Most of them wore navy FBR uniforms. I spotted a couple other Sisters, hustling to their destinations with their heads down. They didn’t exude the same confidence in this setting that the men did.

The sideling patches of grass were all manicured. There were trees planted, too, surrounded by little wrought-iron fences and landscaped flowers. The stone face of the building was graffiti-free, with high glass windows and a trash can to the right that wasn’t overflowing with garbage. I felt like we’d driven into the past. It looked like someplace from before the War.

We’re coming, Rebecca.

Anticipation dripped through me. Here, at last, was my chance to make things right. To fix what I’d broken when I’d blackmailed her and Sean into helping me escape. Here was my chance for redemption.

“Hopefully this won’t take long,” said Tucker.

Sean was out of the car first. Tucker followed, and then Chase and I were alone. He stayed in the front seat and kept his head down, so as not to attract the attention of the passersby. We hadn’t said good-bye and we wouldn’t now.

I pulled off the gold band he’d stolen from the Loftons’ and reached for his hand, pushing it onto his pinky finger. His fist began to shake as soon as I let it go.

“Thirty minutes,” he said. “And then I’m coming in.”

I nodded and stepped outside, knowing I would rather die than have Chase follow me into that building.

CHAPTER

19

I WENT
over the plan in my head as we walked up to the entrance. Most of it relied on Tucker. It still seemed beyond surreal that I was putting my life in the hands of my mother’s murderer. I reminded myself that he’d helped us out of the fire at the Wayland Inn. That he’d stayed to evacuate the tunnels, and seemed almost human when he’d told me about his family.

He hasn’t killed me so far,
I told myself. But it was small consolation.

There was a glass-covered posting of the Statutes near the entrance, but I couldn’t see the five most wanted in conjunction with the sniper shootings. Maybe the FBR still thought that Ember Miller had died two days ago in Greeneville. Still, I kept my head bowed, just in case.

Tucker walked straight up to the front door and pulled it open, allowing me to step into a brightly lit lobby with a black-and-white checkered floor. A Sister of Salvation sat behind a glass window, smiling in a plastic way. She had a broad forehead and flat hair, pulled back in a pencil-thin braid. By the time we reached her, my nerves had settled into that same eerie calm I remembered from my escape from the base. I was glad for it. I needed a clear head now.

“Welcome to Horizons Physical Rehabilitation. How may I help you?” she chimed.

“Patient transfer,” said Tucker.

“I’ll need a copy of your orders, please.” She reached her hand under the bottom of the glass expectantly.

My fists clenched. Tucker hadn’t said we’d need paperwork.

“Is Sprewell here?” Tucker asked irritably, as though he couldn’t be bothered with this girl and her silly rules. I wasn’t entirely sure the sentiment wasn’t genuine.

“Um … yes, sir. Do you have an appointment?” she asked, her mouth now drawn tight at the corners.

“We’ll wait.”

He stared at her until she stood up and walked away.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” I whispered.

“Not now,” snapped Sean. Tucker smirked.

The Sister returned and sat back down. “Sergeant Sprewell will be with you in just a moment.”

“Thank you,” said Tucker, not particularly kindly.

Church of America music was piped in through the speakers. The soprano singing struck a note that gave me the chills. I nursed my sore wrist and tried to focus on relaxing the bundled muscles in my neck, but the Sister kept staring at me.

“We’ve met, haven’t we?” she finally asked.

I dropped my chin and looked away. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it,” she said. “I recognize your face.…”

For several blank seconds the words caught in my throat and I seriously contemplated running. Then I remembered what Beth had said about the arrival of the Sisters in Louisville.

“Dallas,” I said. “I trained at the center in Dallas.”

“That’s it,” she said. “I trained there, too.” She smiled again, in her hollow way.

An atrocious buzzer sounded and I jumped to attention. A moment later, a ruddy-faced guard with beady eyes—
SPREWELL
, according to his name badge—pushed through the locked door on the left side of the check-in window.

His eyes drew to me first, with a look so slimy I felt the need to take a shower. I instantly despised him.

“Still guarding cripples, huh, Sprewell?” chided Tucker.

I bristled at the word
cripple,
thinking of the Chicago fighter that Mags had shot. Then I held my breath, praying that Tucker hadn’t been too bold. Thankfully the guard recognized him and laughed.

“Miss me that much, Morris?”

Something in his mannerisms reminded me of how Tucker had been at the Knoxville base. Cocky. Too clever for his own good.

He shook Tucker’s hand, and Tucker smiled, like he belonged in this world. I shifted, moving closer to Sean and the handgun in his belt.

“What brings you back this way?” asked Sprewell.

“Transfer. The Sisters put in a request to bring one of your girls to their order in Knoxville.”

“So that’s why you’re in mixed company.” The guard’s brows went flat with indifference. “Any gimp in particular?”

“Her name is Rebecca Lansing,” said Sean, sweat beading on his forehead.

I tensed. My heart hammered against my ribcage.

Sprewell’s chin lifted. “This a pal of yours, Morris?”

I was done talking to Sprewell. I wanted to see Rebecca
now
.

“Ms. Lansing is to set an example for the other Sisters,” I said. “To steer them away from a life of sin.”

Truck had said this is what they’d done to that poor Chicago soldier with the broken neck. Toured him around the base. I hoped it wasn’t too unreasonable that the Sisters of Salvation would do the same thing.

Sprewell glanced at Tucker, as if to verify that I’d spoken out of turn. I hid the irritated sigh that threatened to sneak out. It seemed men could only address men these days.

“They’re a little bold down south, aren’t they, Morris?” he said with a ghost of a smile. “The ones here are … what’s it called … like those bugs that don’t have any male or female parts.
Asexual,
that’s it.”

“We
are
on a time crunch, Sprewell,” said Tucker.