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“Wilson will continue to keep an eye on him.”
“He hasn’t found anything?”
“No. Nothing to incriminate him or connect him to the stalker. Doyle hasn’t taken a flight or left Sitka in the past year. But Wilson is still digging.”
“Thank you.” I tuck my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching for him. “For waiting out here, for always keeping me safe, and the letter…” I shift my weight. “Thank you for that.”
I woke this morning with a note on my nightstand, scrawled in his meticulous penmanship.
Today is a reminder of your strength. I’m sorry for your pain, and I’m here with all my love.
I cried when I read it.
Leaving a note rather than smothering me all day with pity and concern was exactly what I needed.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
He’s doing everything right, and it’s slowly, painfully breaking me.
As I stare into his stern, overprotective eyes, I feel nothing but love.
Love for the man I married.
Love for the man he’s become.
I love him.
He lost me, and that changed him. It ripped him open, deepened him, and made him emotionally stronger.
Nothing is more breathtaking than a man who knows the salty taste of his own tears. A man who owns his mistakes as if they’re tattooed on his bones with holy ink.
A year ago, I didn’t believe he was my soul mate.
But the man standing before me with a broken heart and imperfect love in his eyes? He fits disturbingly, achingly, perfectly in my soul. And I’m in his. He never let me go.
“I’m sorry about Doyle.” His hand twitches at his side. “I’ll find you another therapist.”
“I don’t need another therapist. I need to go back to work.”
“It’s too dangerous.” His eyes darken, flashing with anger. “You know that.”
“I do, but I can’t continue like this. I need to feel useful again, to have a purpose.”
“What about your safety?”
“I don’t know, Monty. You have all this security everywhere. You’re rich and powerful and can destroy someone’s life with the snap of your fingers.”
“I don’t do that.”
“But you can. I’m going back to work. Snap your fingers and make it happen.”
“Christ.” He sighs quietly. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“Thank you.” I pat his jaw and stride away.
“Frankie.”
“Hm?” I pause, glancing back.
