Even if my battered heart falls to my feet, I know it will take a hell of a long time to hear her say those words to me again.
But I know I will because damn it, we’re meant to be.
And now the fear and uncertainty I felt just a few seconds ago are replaced with determination and resolve.
Nothing and nobody will ever take her from me again.
I will kill anyone who even dares try.
Something is wrong.
It’s been a few days since I heard the crack in Noah’s voice when he whispered that he loves me.
I’ve been waiting fifteen months to hear him say those words to me again.
But hearing them after everything that has happened had the same effect on me as a root canal.
Terrifying. Painful.
And that pisses me off because it shouldn’t be this hard to love my husband again, especially after finding out he had no part in putting me here.
Something is up.
Noah refuses to let me or Adrian out of his sight. I’m sure he goes down to the basement when Adrian and I fall asleep at night but every morning when I wake up Noah’s already in the room with us. Almost as if he never left.
And every morning when I wake up, Adrian is already changed, fed and bathed.
During the day, Noah is wherever we are.
If I’m in the bedroom with Adrian, he’s on the recliner working.
If I’m in Adrian’s playroom, he’s there with us, on the floor playing with his son.
If we’re in the living room, he’s there.
It’s like he can’t stand to let us out of his sight. The circles under his eyes are getting darker and deeper, as though he hasn’t slept, but he insists that he has.
Gabe and the other two agents have been holed up in the basement for the last few days, only surfacing to grab a bite or wash up.
And I swear when I looked out the living room window this morning, I recognized some of the people camping across from the cabin. It’s like they’ve been here before, which means Noah recalled agents.
A chill runs down my spine.
I hate this--the distrust and fear of the unknown. I hate the feeling of being kept out of the loop again.
But it’s tenfold now because I’m a mom and a wife.
I fear for the safety of my family as much as my own. Maybe even more.
I peek over my shoulder at Noah feeding Adrian in the living room. He insists we keep the drapes and blinds drawn, but he’s definitely looking out the window like he’s searching for something… or someone.
I need to get answers, but I know Noah won’t give them to me willingly.
He won’t outright lie to me either so there’s only one way to get him to fess up.
A long-winded sigh comes out of me as I dump the vegetables in the pork sinigang I’m making for dinner.
Noah always loved it when I made Filipino dishes, like the first meal we had together. I’m trying in my own little way to show him that it may not be like it was but I still care.