Hold My Heart (27 page)

Chapter 31

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A shrill beeping fills my ears as my brain tries to reboot. I’m trying to tell my brain to open my eyes, but my brain is out of order. I become aware of the air entering my lungs, of a funny taste in my mouth. That awful taste I noticed in the fields. Like licking a nine-volt battery. Oh, God. Oh, No.
Come on, Ileana, snap out of it!

I can’t, I’m too tired. Please let me sleep.

قلب

What the hell. Damn beeping is back again. Now I’m pissed. That’s it. I try opening my eyes.
Come on, Harper, open your eyes.
I open just a sliver, enough to let in light. There’s no daylight. Only fluorescent light. Where in the fuck am I? I keep trying, willing the room to come into focus, but everything's so blurry. I can’t. Someone, please stop that damn beeping.

قلب

My side is killing me. God, it hurts like hell. I try one more time. Slowly, I open my eyes. Light is filtering through the mini blinds. As I blink my eyes open, I look up and see a petite woman doing something next to me. She’s wearing scrubs. Must be a doctor or a nurse.

“Ileana, honey, can you hear me?” The woman smiles at me.

I nod, barely moving my head. I have no energy.

“That’s good. You know where you are?”

Finally, someone is asking a rational question. I shake my head slightly and I regret it instantly. The pain stops me cold and I can’t speak.

“You’re in the hospital. I’m going to get the doctor, I’ll be right back,” she says, heading for the door. I follow her with my eyes. She stops and talks to several men in suits standing by the door as she heads out.

I force my hand to respond and gingerly raise it toward my side. Yup. That’s real all right. I reach for my hair, and see the IV on my hand. There’s also something attached to my finger, maybe a monitor. That’s where that infernal beep is coming from. I’m wearing a hospital gown, and wrapped in white blankets.

I look around the room. White, sterile walls, medical equipment hanging by the door and a big red box with the
hazard
symbol corroborate what the nurse told me. There’s a small window on the far wall. Outside, the sky is gray, small flakes slowing floating downwards.

The doctor returns along with the nurse and they both stop at my bedside.

“How are you, Agent Harper?” the doctor asks, too cheerful for my taste.

How am I? Stabbed, that’s how I am.
I’m glad I don’t have the strength to talk. Instead, I just shrug.

“Do you know where you are?”

. “Hospital.” My hoarse voice barely audible, I practically mouth the words.

“Yes, Northwestern Memorial Hospital,” the doctor confirms.

The nurse brings me a cup with a straw. I give her a skeptical look, and she answers my silent question. “It’s just water.”

I sip slowly on the water. It tastes heavenly. It quenches my thirst like it is the most refreshing thing I’ve ever drunk in my life. Slowly sipping, I take a better look at the nurse. She’s familiar. It takes me a minute to realize who she is, and then my brain clicks back online, and the memories of the last few weeks come rushing, flooding my mind as if a dam has opened.

I’m back. My God, it worked.
I’m back.

“Chris?” My voice is still hoarse, but the water is helping. She looks down and takes the cup away.

“That’s right! That’s great, you remember me,” she says with a big grin. Of course I remember. “Why wouldn’t I?” I ask hoarsely.

The doctor explains. “It’s perfectly normal to have memory loss after a traumatic injury, Agent Harper, so the fact that you remember Nurse Reyes is a good sign.”

It’s Nelson now. She probably hasn’t had a chance to change it.

“Ileana and I went to Northwestern,” Chris explains to the doctor.

“Well, that’s good. You might be able to talk to those gentlemen by the door if you feel like it.” I glance at the door and recognize one of the men looking my way. It’s Special Agent in Charge Teague. My boss.

“Yes, I do.” I nod slowly.

Especially Tommy. Now that my brain is back, I’m surprised Tommy isn’t sitting here eating my hospital food or watching TV. Instead, the only chair in the room sits vacant and alone against the plain wall opposite my bed.

The doctor walks out the door as Chris leans close, smoothing my hair.

“Thanks,” I whisper as she squeezes my shoulder.

“Here’s the call button, in case you need anything,” she says as she wraps my fingers around a remote. “Okay?” I nod in confirmation. “I’ll be right outside.”

As Chris takes her leave, the men enter the small room and approach my hospital bed.

“Agent Harper, you up for talking?” Agent Teague asks, and I give him a short nod.

My room has suddenly become a makeshift conference room for the FBI. Teague is here, and so are Nelson and Ryan. The doctor is here as well, which I’m glad for because I have questions about my condition. I want to go home.

Notably absent from this little meeting is Tommy. I want him here. I have questions, but this is protocol, so I know my questions will have to wait until theirs are answered.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Agent Teague is leading the inquiry while Ryan takes notes on a pad. “The doctor already briefed us on your condition. We know you might have some difficulties remembering due to the trauma and blood loss, but anything you might recall and are able to share will be appreciated.”

I nod. Taking a deep breath, I give them the abridged version. No reporting of time travel or a suspect hiding seventy years in the past. None of that.

“All I remember is encountering the suspect out in the field and him attacking me with a knife. I did discharge my weapon.” Then I think of Will and his anguish at desperately trying to save his cousin, and a knot forms in my throat, choking me with dread.

“Did the suspect make it?” I ask Teague.

“I’m afraid not. He was dead on arrival.”

My heart plummets as I think of Will. I can only hope Doc can help him understand all of this someday. I squeeze my eyes shut; the physical and emotional pain of it all hits me at once.

The doctor must have noticed because he intercedes. “Gentlemen, if you don’t mind I think that’s enough for today.”

Agent Teague nods. “Of course. Harper, I hope you understand we will need to talk before you take your leave.”

“My leave?” My voice is so raspy, it sounds like I’m suffering from laryngitis. Each word feels like agony.

Agent Teague looks to me in confusion. “Yes, you've been through considerable trauma. According to the doctor, you lost quite a bit of blood. You were lying in that field for hours before you were found.” Christ. I look at the doctor for confirmation. “We kept your phone active for this very purpose, Harper. The second your signal came in, we tracked the towers and were able to narrow down the search area.”

The doctor reaffirms Teague’s words. “I'm afraid you went into shock and lost a substantial amount of blood. Your intestine was punctured as well. You were airlifted to our hospital for emergency surgery. You've remained unconscious for almost a week.”

Their words sink in.

“We will let you rest, Agent Harper, you’ve been through quite an ordeal,” Teague says as he rallies the other agents and shoots a quick nod at the doctor. Before he leaves, I call after him.

“Sir? How long have I been gone?” I can't help but wonder because I see Tommy isn't here.

I know I was in 1944 for about three weeks, which means I've been out of commission for almost four weeks.

Teague glances at Nelson and Nelson answers. “Close to four months.”

Four months.

I lie there speechless. I don't have the strength or energy to try to figure out what happened, but I see by their expressions they have a lot more questions for me—like where the hell I've been all this time. I can't worry about that now. I just want to see Tommy.

“Where is Colton?” I ask Agent Teague, point blank. I just want to find out why he’s not here. This is not right. I wake up in the hospital and the first face I was expecting to see was Tommy's.

Teague looks to Nelson and Ryan, but they all hesitate. They're afraid to say anything, I can tell.

“Just get some rest, Harper, we will talk later.”

With that, they all turn their backs on me and leave the room without answering my question.

Chapter 32

They just leave me lying here, all alone in this room. They're avoiding me. I press the nurse's button. Chris will tell me what's going on. Either that or I'm walking out of this hospital tonight.

The instant Chris enters the room I don't let her get a word in edgewise.

“Where's Tommy? I need Tommy.” I’m afraid to ask, but I do, because I need to know. The rapid beeping noise is audible proof of the panic and desperation that is overcoming me.

I know Tommy all too well. I'm sure he didn't take the fact that I’d disappeared for almost four months too lightly. He's impulsive, and I hate to think he’d do something stupid, like hurt himself over this. Tears leak from my eyes, and I can’t stop them. I can’t stop my lip from trembling, my heart from pounding erratically.
Please no, no, no.

My voice is a whisper; I’m afraid if I utter the words, they’ll become reality. “Tommy can’t be dead. He can’t be. He can’t be.”

I look up at Chris through blurry eyes. I can’t stop shaking my head. This can’t be happening. Whatever is left of me is slipping away. I can endure this, but I cannot survive it without him.

“
Shh
, it's all right, Ileana, he's not dead. Please calm down, honey.”

She’s trying to placate me, but there’s no solace. I need to see him, to touch him. I need to see for myself that he’s okay.

“Tell me, Chris! They won’t tell me where Tommy is!” I’m yelling, but words are not coming out. My voice is raw and desperate. I’m completely losing it. I'm breathing so fast I'm hyperventilating. “Why won't anyone tell me what’s going on?”

Chris sighs. Walking to the end of the hospital room, she grabs the chair and moves it next to my bedside. She takes a seat and holds my hand. My mind is reeling. I've been through hell and back to be with him. Chris is scaring me. If she feels she needs to sit down and hold my hand, this is bad.

She takes a deep breath before beginning.

“Ileana, Tommy suffered a breakdown after you disappeared.”

I can't breathe, choking on my tears that continue to spill. My mouth opens, but I don’t know what to say. I just shake my head, I don’t understand.

“Honey, he stopped eating and going to work. He was put on leave for medical treatment, but he refused it. He quit the bureau.”

I stifle a huge sob, my chest is heaving, and the only thing holding me in place is Chris's hand in mine. I have to wonder: does he know I'm back? Chris’s words are like a death sentence for a crime I didn’t commit. My face is stained with tears, my eyes glazed over, each of Chris’s words like a nail being pounded in my coffin.

“After he quit, he changed his number, stopped taking our calls. The only reason we know he's all right is because Nelson has some friends over at the Chicago office. He's a DEA special agent now.”

My mind is reeling. He's not my partner anymore. He's not my
anything
anymore.

“When can I go home?” Do I even have a home?

“I don't know. It depends on how you do. Maybe in a few days?” Chris continues to hold my hand, and I'm so thankful for it. I don't think I can take any more bad news, but I need the information.

“What about my apartment?” I ask. “Do I still have it?”

She smiles.

“Yeah, we all pitched in, plus your neighbor Mrs. Nuncio said not to worry about it, she would talk to the board.” Her expression falters, her slightly cheerful tone sobers. “Some things might be missing though. Please don't be surprised.”

I frown and she continues. “Tommy, he...lost it.” She shakes her head. “It was bad. Nelson had to call Teague. That's when he was put on leave.”

She's saying Tommy trashed my place. He must have been frustrated. I remember how wound up he was because we couldn't catch the guy, so I guess not being able to find me required bigger items to toss and turn.

My eyes are closed, but tears keep spilling down my cheeks. Chris hands me a tissue, and I wipe them away. I am more determined than ever to come clean with him. I didn't come this far to see him fall apart all over again, this time over me.

As soon as I'm able, I'm going to see him.

قلب

I had to spend a week in the hospital, and after being discharged, Chris—bossy as ever—wouldn't let me go home. Five days with her and Nelson and I was ready to gouge my eyes out. They're so happy and in love, it's sickening.

I wish it were Tommy and me.

I'm finally fit to be on my own. I haven't seen him yet. The last words he ever said to me were ‘Are we okay?’ My answer was
always
. Boy was I wrong. I miss him so much sometimes I can't breathe. I tried not to let Chris and Nelson hear me through the thin condo walls crying myself to sleep, which was one of the reasons I wanted to come home. Doctor says I'm fit to drive short distances, so, once I'm able, my first order of business is going to see Tommy.

I arrive at my apartment building with Chris. The woman won't leave my side. I don't know why I kept myself so closed off for so long. All this time, I was missing out on such fantastic people in the world. People that care for you with all their hearts, with no reservations, and expect nothing in return. People like Will, Carol, MJ, and Mary. They opened up their home to me without even knowing the first thing about me. They were kind, loving, and supportive. Something I never had growing up.

Here I was, lucky enough to have Chris in my life, and instead of embracing her, I kept dodging her phone calls. I'm so grateful to have her.

Once we enter my apartment, I can't hold back my gasp. Nothing has prepared me for this. My apartment is practically empty. My vases, my plants, my dishes—all gone. My counters are bare. Where's my TV?

I walk around slowly, taking it all in. I'm shocked, because my place looks like someone broke in and cleaned me out.

“I cleaned up,” Chris's small voice comes from behind me, but I'm too astonished to respond. I knew it would be bad. Not this bad. He
really
trashed it.

Suddenly remembering, I rush to my bedroom. My bedroom was always my sanctuary and Tommy knew that. If he touched one thing in there, I will kill him. I walk with purpose, swinging my bedroom door open, and rush inside. I stop breathing.

My bedroom is exactly the same way I left it. No wait. That's not right. It's...
cleaner
? Not a speck of dust to be found. All of my things are properly put away. The floor is free of clutter, my clothes hung, and my brush and makeup bag sitting neatly on the dresser across from my bed. My old overstuffed reading chair free from any debris, a new wool afghan throw folded and hanging on the back of it.

My hand reaches for it, and Chris’s soft voice responds as if reading my thoughts.

“Mrs. N. knitted it. Said you’d want it finished when you came home. She never doubted you’d come back. Not even for a minute.”

My throat stings and my chest aches at the thought of her, but I continue examining my bedroom. My bed is made, the thick, powder blue comforter, the soft pillows, and shams neatly arranged. My nightstand is always littered with books. I love romance novels—it’s my one guilty pleasure, so I always try to read before bedtime. I walk over to my bed and stare at my books, all neatly arranged by size. My heart feels like it's trapped in a vice grip, squeezing my chest. My legs can't hold me any longer. I sit on the bed with a plop.

“He wouldn't come in here after three weeks,” Chris explains as she walks to the bed and sits by me. “He wouldn’t let anyone else come in here either.”

My vision blurs at Chris's words.

Tommy knew how much I hated anyone going into my room. I glance at my books again. I can't believe he straightened up for me.

“I'm sorry, Ileana.” Chris holds my hand as an errant tear runs down my cheek.

“Thanks for driving me. Could I ask one more favor from you?” I ask as I wipe my tear away.

Chris squeezes my hand. “Of course, anything.”

I take a deep breath to prepare myself. “Could you drive me to Tommy’s? Now?”

“Are you sure, Ileana?” Chris’s concern is well warranted.

“Yes, I’m sure.” I'm tired of hiding. This—my untouched bedroom—means something, and I need to find out what that is. I need to see him.

قلب

We pull up to the street across from Tommy's apartment. During our drive, I stayed focused on what I want to say, and took deep breaths. I'm determined to get him back. Even if he doesn't want me, I need him. He's in my heart. I feel numb, because I know that as much as he loves me, he doesn't love me that way. But that's okay. I'll take him any way I can get him.

“You want me to come inside with you?” Chris's voice brings me back. I've been sitting in her passenger seat unmoving since we arrived.

I take a deep cleansing breath, and brace myself. “No thanks, I'll be okay.”

As I exit the car, I turn to Chris.

“Chris?” She looks up at me from the driver side. “Thanks for being here for me. I know I don't say it, but I do appreciate everything you've done for me.” Emotion floods her face and she tears up. Chris is someone that wears her heart on her sleeve. Clearly moved, she just nods my way. I give her a sad smile, and cross the street, heading for Tommy's apartment building.

One foot in front of the other, I take each of the apartment walk-up steps with purpose. The closer I get to his floor, the faster my feet move. He's like a beacon calling to me, a newfound sense of purpose drives me at the realization that he was the only reason I made it back. I did my job, but ultimately, my love for him brought me home.

Finally reaching his floor, I head straight for his door, knocking like I mean business. He might faint when he sees me. Why didn't I think of that? I didn't prepare for that scenario.

Shit, I should have called first. It’s Sunday. Maybe he’s not home. As I lower my fist away from the door, having doubts about showing up unannounced, the door flies open.

“What!” Tommy’s loud yell makes me flinch.

He's standing in the doorway, wearing only jeans. His hair is shorter, back to a crew cut like the old days. He’s sporting a short beard, his hair a light honey brown, darker than before. I take him in, as if he were a mirage. He feels my eyes on him, quickly covering his chest with his arms, getting a sudden case of modesty.

“Hey.” My voice is barely audible.

I thought I was ready to do this, but having him standing in front of me after believing I would never see him again is overwhelming. We stand there, without talking, and then I notice his expression, or rather, lack of one.

He's not surprised to see me, nor is he inviting me in. Why is that? He's not even saying hello back. All of a sudden, this feels like it wasn't such a good idea.

“Can I come in?” He looks behind him, then back into the hallway. Actually, he seems to look everywhere except at me.

He hesitates before answering. “Yeah,” he says in a clipped, dry tone
. Is he mad at me?

I walk inside his apartment, and I quickly notice the contrast from my place. His apartment looks ransacked. There's an array of beer bottles all over the counter, his sink overflowing with plates, and empty takeout cartons everywhere. Pizza boxes cover his coffee table and some even clutter the floor, and clothes litter the entire living area. As I take in his filthy, chaotic state of living, he dives for the couch and retrieves a T-shirt he quickly puts on. This is worse than I thought. I know Tommy, and this is bad.

“Wow. So, no ‘
hello, Lil, how are you
?’” I ask, giving him a sad smile.

His expression is stoic, as he stands in front of me, hands inside his jean pockets and eyes darting over my shoulder. He still doesn't speak. This attitude is not helping my nerves. My presence here is not a surprise to him, which means he not only knew I was back, but he didn’t make an effort to reach out to me.

“You knew I was back, didn't you?” His posture changes as he becomes nervous, switching between crossing his arms, sticking his hands in his pockets, and shifting his weight around.

“Why didn't you come see me, Tommy?”

At the mention of his name, he squeezes his eyes as if in pain, but I continue questioning him. I can’t help it. It’s like I’m conducting an interrogation. I need to know why he has decided to remove himself from my life.

“I wake up in the hospital and find out you left me—”

His gaze shoots up, and he pierces me with a fierce stare, his green eyes burning into me.

“I left
you
?”  He crosses his huge arms defensively as he challenges me. “I didn't leave you. I waited and waited. You
never
came back.”

Each word is like the swing of a knife, plunging into me. His chest is heaving and fury contorts his face. His anger takes me aback. I recoil at his words, salt on my open wound.

“Tommy, you don't think if I could have come home, I would have? You think I’d disappear on purpose? What the hell—”

He cuts me off. “What do you want, Harper?” His words are like a slap, and I flinch.

Harper
. Not Lil.