Page 170 of Rescuing You

Back at the table, Michael took her hand. “Okay if I pray?”

She nodded. She would speak if she had to but would avoid it when she could.

“Lord…” The word hung between them, filled with emotion. “Thank You for bringing us here. Take us all the way home. And bless our food.” Another long moment passed before he added, “Amen.” He smiled at her, then dug into his meal.

She tried to do the same, but the meat was too rough to get down. Even when she cut up the vegetables very small, they felt like razors when she swallowed.

She pushed the plate away and ate the yogurt and spoon sweets—fruit suspended in thick syrup. She swallowed a few bites, thankful when the calories hit her empty stomach.

“Be right back.” Michael walked to the buffet, though his plate was still half full.

He returned with a second bowl of yogurt and syrupy fruit. “If that’s all you can eat, you’re going to need more.”

She smiled her thanks.

“You’re welcome.” He took a few bites of his dinner before he spoke again. “Was Brock hard on you?”

She shook her head. “He was kind.”

Michael’s eyebrows hiked. “Kind? Brock? Are you sure?”

She grinned.

“Did he say anything about asylum?”

She shook her head, cleared her throat to answer.

“It’s okay,” he said. “He probably wanted to talk to Jasmine first. If he doesn’t offer it, I’ll go another route.”

“Are you in trouble?”

It was probably the sound of her voice that had him wincing. “Whatever happens, it was worth it to get you free.”

Oh. The words, so casual, meant more than she could express.

Tears filled her eyes, and he looked confused. “What? What did I say?”

She shrugged again.

Maybe he figured out what she’d been thinking because he leaned close and kissed her cheek. “I love you.” He sat back and waved her off before she could respond. “I know, you love me too. How could you not?”

She smiled, wishing she could tell him exactly how she felt. That she did love him. That she owed him her life—and her sister’s life. That she was sorry for ever doubting him.

She’d also tell him she was afraid of what the future would hold. Would they be allowed into the US? Or sent back to Germany? Or to Iraq?

Brock had made no promises. If she had more information, maybe he’d want to keep her close, but she knew very little.

“It’s going to be okay,” Michael said, reading her mind. He touched the sweatshirt she wore. “Where’d you get the clothes?”

She dipped her head toward the team, shrugging. Brock had handed her the sack of clothes after he’d put her in the empty hotel room and told her to shower, that he’d be in to talk to her in fifteen minutes.

Someone must’ve run to a store somewhere and bought the leggings and sweatshirt and socks and underwear. She was embarrassed that a stranger—a man—had picked out the things, but she got over that quickly as she’d dressed in the warm clothes.

Michael was wearing a new sweatshirt, too, so apparently, they’d shopped for him at the same time.

Silly the things that mattered. Warm clothes. A hot shower. Food.

Being with someone you trust.