Whispers of You (The Lost & Found Series Book 1)

Muted voices sifted in from the living room, and Grae clicked up the volume. “You’d think they could have a little respect. I told them we were watching Little Women.”

I grinned at her but bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Over the past three days, I’d learned that laughing and crying were not things I wanted to do if I hoped to keep my pain remotely manageable. Broken ribs sucked big time.

“They have never respected the sacredness of Jo, Beth, Meg, and Amy.”

“It’s true.” Grae adjusted herself against the pillows as she turned toward me, a smile playing on her lips. “Remember when I threw that entire bowl of popcorn at Nash?”

“And then promptly burst into tears,” I reminded her.

“He came in singing at the top of his lungs while Beth was dying.”

I couldn’t hold in my chuckle this time and immediately regretted it.

“Shit, Wren. I’m sorry.”

I waved her off. “It’s okay. I need the happy. It just sucks that it hurts like a B.”

Grae paused the movie. “When’s the last time you took a pain pill?”

I made a humming noise but didn’t answer.

“Wren…”

“I took Tylenol an hour ago.”

“That’s not what the doctor recommended. He gave you the good stuff so you wouldn’t be hurting this much.”

I toyed with the edge of the blanket. “I hate the way they make me feel.”

I always had. A part of me blamed the pain medication haze for not recognizing how Holt had been pulling away all those years ago.

Grae was quiet for a moment. “Talk to me.”

A burn lit the backs of my eyes, and my throat tightened. “I’m okay. Really.”

And I was. I had everything to be grateful for. I was alive. So was Holt. We’d gotten out. Instead, I felt like I was one breath away from a nervous breakdown.

“I’ve known you for my entire life. I know when you’re lying.” She pulled the blanket up higher around us. “Besties for the resties, remember? What’s said here, stays here.”

The pressure built in my throat, but I still didn’t speak.

Worry etched itself deeper in Grae’s face. “If you don’t talk to me, promise me you’ll talk to someone.”

It wouldn’t be Holt. He’d studiously avoided all talk of what had happened in the time Amber and Jude had held me captive. Lawson had asked me the bare minimum questions, Holt glaring at him the entire time.

“I’m scared this will be too much for him.”

The words were out before I could stop them, a softly spoken utterance that ricocheted around the room like a cannon shot.

Empathy instantly filled Grae’s expression, blending with the worry. She slipped her hand into mine, squeezing it. “He loves you.”

“I know.” I didn’t doubt that for a second. But Holt had loved me ten years ago, too. Love wasn’t always enough.

“Knowing that Jude was behind the attacks ten years ago and the attacks now has been hard for everyone. But he was Holt’s best friend.”

My chest cracked, another scar to add to the bunch, this one just invisible. And it wasn’t just Holt feeling the sting.

Chris had broken down in tears in my hospital room, worried I’d never be able to forgive him for not seeing what was right under his nose. I’d gripped his hand hard and told him that none of it was his fault. Jude’s destruction was more than just the physical lives he’d stolen. It was the mental torture he’d inflicted on everyone around him.

I held tight to Grae’s hand as I whispered my worst fears aloud. “I’m terrified that Holt will take this all on his shoulders again. That it’ll be too much, and he’ll leave.”

Holt had stayed by my side every moment at the hospital. But he was rarely still. He was always adjusting blankets, ordering food, speaking to doctors, planning for our trip home.

And since we’d arrived back at the cabin, we’d rarely been alone. The Hartley family had all but moved in to make sure we had everything we needed. I was grateful but desperate for some time with just Holt.

Grae nestled in closer to me. “Have you tried talking to him? Telling him you’re worried.”

“When? We’re never alone except at night, and he always insists I need to sleep, not talk.”

She rolled her eyes. “Always the bossy one.”

I wanted to laugh but couldn’t find it in me. “He’s not even sleeping with me. He sleeps in that chair.” I inclined my head to the piece of furniture that felt more like a nemesis.

Grae’s brows rose at that.

“He said he’s worried about bumping me in the night.”

“That makes sense. He had a scare. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you when you’re already in pain.”

A tear slipped from my eye. “I’m worried he’s just waiting until I’m healed to tell me that he can’t do this.”

“Wren.” Grae squeezed my hand again, harder this time. “Holt was eighteen when you were shot. No one makes wise decisions at that age. But he’s lived a lifetime without you. He knows how awful that is. He’s not going to leave you now.”

“You sound so sure.”

A smile pulled at her mouth. “Because I know my brother. And you do, too.” She brushed the hair out of my face. “But you have some scars from that time, too. Ones that make you expect the worst when there’s no evidence to support it.”

I wouldn’t have said no evidence. Holt hadn’t stopped moving since we’d gotten home. Refortifying the security system, installing new windows, cooking me every favorite meal I’d ever had.

But today was the worst. He’d taken off at first light, giving me a quick kiss and telling me he’d be back by dinner and to call him if I needed anything.

It wasn’t about need right now. It was about want. I wanted my best friend. The love of my damn life. I wanted his hand in mine, his big body curved around mine, the scent of him soothing all the nightmares away. And he wasn’t here.

“You have to keep the faith,” Grae urged. “There has to be something you can hold on to right now that reminds you.”

My gaze flicked to the dresser. To the photo. The one I’d found in the duffel before my whole world imploded.

Grae followed my line of sight and grinned. She bounded up from the bed and crossed to pick it up. A moment later, she was back, sitting cross-legged on the bed and handing me the photo.

“I asked him about this when you were napping yesterday.”

“You did?”

She nodded. “He said he printed it out and had it laminated before boot camp. It’s been with him every place he’s ever gone.”

My fingers ghosted over the spots on the photo where the plastic had worn through.

“He said that he’d slip it into his uniform so you were right next to his heart on every patrol. That he’d tuck it into his bunk or pin it to the tent so he could fall asleep looking at your face.”

Tears stung my eyes and slid down my cheeks.

Grae wiped them away. “But then he said that it was nothing like the miracle of watching you sleep now. He loves you, Wren. He’ll always come back to you.”