Actual Stop (Agent O’Connor #1)(85)

“It could’ve been much, much worse.”

At those words, I suddenly remembered everything. The abrupt clarity was almost startling, and I would’ve sworn I actually heard a click as the missing pieces snapped into place. My eyes flew open, and the nausea Rory had asked me about earlier punched me hard in the gut, but I doubted it had anything to do with my physical injuries. No, this reaction could be attributed to psychic wounds.

“Luce?” My voice was shaky, and I trembled. “Where is she? Can I see her?”

My sister’s expression was all the answer I required. My heart shredded, and tears welled up in my eyes, blurring Rory’s face. I wanted to beg her, plead with her not to say the words I knew were about to come out of her mouth, but I couldn’t make my voice work. The lump in my throat was too big. The sudden, painful pressure inside me was too great.

“I’m so sorry, Ryan. Lucia didn’t make it.”

A fraction of a second before it happened, I knew exactly what the bedpan was for, and somewhere beneath my anguish, a part of me was grateful Rory knew me so well. She was already lifting the dish with one hand as she helped me turn to the side a little with the other. I expelled the contents of my stomach with such force I was positive I was either reopening old wounds or inflicting new ones. Either way, I welcomed the pain. I deserved it. I hungered for it. Lucia couldn’t feel anything anymore because of me.

I have no idea how long I vomited, only that the moment seemed to stretch on into forever. Finally, when my stomach spasms quieted somewhat and I appeared to be through dry-heaving, Rory placed the bedpan on the floor.

I squeezed my eyes shut to block the scalding tears gathered in them. The side of the bed dipped with the weight of another body, and I buried my face in Rory’s chest, sobbing. Guilt threatened to drown me, and no words could’ve offered any comfort.

Rory must’ve sensed that, too, because she merely held me quietly as I cried.





Chapter Twenty-seven


“Are you still mad at me?” Rory’s voice floated through the open doorway, interrupting my attempts to find anything even remotely entertaining on TV.

I thumbed the power button on the remote with as much force as I could and turned to glare at her. “You mean because you refused to let me attend Lucia’s funeral? No. Why would I be mad about that?”

Rory sighed and shuffled into the room. She looked ragged, but I refused to let that sway me. “You haven’t recovered nearly enough to handle the stress.”

“So you said. Just before you fled the room. Coward.”

“Yeah, well, you were being unreasonable.” She pulled a chair up next to my bed and flopped into it, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.

“Is it even legal for you to do what you did?”

She cracked open one eye. “What did I do?”

“Used your position at the hospital to make decisions for me.”

She scoffed and closed her eye again. “Please. Like you were even sober enough to realize you were missing it.”

“And whose fault was that?”

“Mine,” Rory mumbled, not sounding really interested. “Everything’s mine.”

“Glad you can admit it.”

“Mmm.”

We were quiet for a long moment, and I took the opportunity to really study her as she dozed. The skin beneath her eyes looked bruised, and I would’ve sworn the stress lines creasing her brow weren’t there before. My heart lurched, and I rubbed my own forehead as though I’d be able to soothe her that way.

“It was best,” Rory murmured, startling me.

“What was?”

“You skipping the funeral.”

“I should’ve been there, Rory. I should’ve at least had the chance to honor the life she’d lived and the sacrifice she’d made.”

Rory groaned as she hoisted herself into a more upright position and twisted and turned to work out some kinks in her back. “I know. And I’m sorry. But I didn’t want you to have to deal with all the whispers and the staring and the questions.”

It was my turn to sigh. “Yeah, I figured it was something like that.” A beat. “Thanks.”

“Any time. How’d your visit with her family go?”

Even now, I felt like I was being pressed in a vise at the mere memory of that conversation. I forced myself to breathe in despite the tightness in my chest. It wasn’t easy. “It went okay.”

Rory quirked an eyebrow. She knew I was full of shit. “Really?”

“Well, if you overlook the fact that she hadn’t told them anything.”

“Anything about…?”

“About anything. Our breakup. Her sleeping with someone else. That she was upset with me because I’d…” I couldn’t even bring myself to say that she’d been in the line of fire instead of on the far side of the limo by the Intel car because she’d felt compelled to confront me. I didn’t want Rory trying to convince me it wasn’t my fault. “Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch.”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

I cleared my throat in an attempt to break apart the heavy ball that’d gathered there and blinked furiously against the tears welling in my eyes. “Yeah, well. I thought they’d come to yell at me. Imagine my surprise when they cried and fussed over me like I was part of the damn family.”