“I’ll miss you too,” she said softly, meaning it more than she could ever say.
He reached inside his pocket and handed her a box. Surprised at the gift, she opened it to discover a necklace with a lighthouse pendant. Her brows lifted as she looked up at him. The necklace and key chains were pieces of equipment that held a transmitter in the pendant, something the Keepers carried on missions in case they needed it for a client. But the Keepers themselves had a tattoo of a lighthouse with a tracer embedded in the light, just underneath the skin.
“Bert, you know I have a tattoo.”
“This is special,” he said. “I’ve modified it, and you’ll be the first to have it. The tracer is more sensitive and can pinpoint exactly where you are. And not only LSI but I can also get the signal on my phone, even inside a building, telling me which level you’re on. I… I thought your trip was a good time for you to try it out. It’s for emergencies or if you just want to get ahold of me immediately. And no matter where you are, I will always be able to find you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, looking down at the piece of equipment that she knew he had designed specifically for her. She realized what he wasn’t saying… I’ll be available to you anytime, anywhere. The gift was precious, and her heart warmed as she looked up at his face. “You won’t mind if I test it out just to see if you respond?”
His lips curved gently. “I would be lost if you didn’t.” He hesitated, like he wanted to say something more, but then just bent, kissed her forehead, and left.
Mary watched him cross the street, watched his lights come on, and felt the familiar ache of wanting something she couldn’t have. Tomorrow, she’d leave for Canada, for Prince Edward Island and sights she’d read about since childhood. She’d have ten days to sightsee, meet new people, discover new territory, and regain perspective.
Mary finished packing, trying not to think about the man across the street or the way his eyes had looked when he’d said he’d miss her.
Tomorrow was a new adventure. A chance to breathe and reset and come back stronger.
15
Bert stood in Mary’s driveway at four thirty in the morning and made a decision. He was done being careful. Done overthinking. Done protecting his heart at the expense of his happiness. Previous failed relationships had taught him to be cautious, but watching Mary prepare to leave for two weeks had taught him something more important… regret hurt worse than rejection ever could.
He’d spent months watching her from across the street, across the operations center, across the careful boundaries of friendship he’d built to keep himself safe. And he was done with it. Done being the quiet protector who never spoke up. Done waiting for the perfect moment that might never come.
Mary was leaving for two weeks. She’d be surrounded by new people and new experiences, and might realize she didn’t need him, so he was going to tell her the truth before she left. He was going to give her the words she deserved to hear, even if they scared him more than any combat situation he’d ever faced.
The porch light flickered on, and Mary appeared at the door, maneuvering her wheelchair through with practiced ease. She was dressed for travel in comfortable pants and a soft sweater, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and even at this ungodly hour, she looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful to him, though he’d never found the courage to tell her so.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she said as she rolled down the ramp, her breath visible in the cold air. “I could have taken a taxi.”
“At four thirty in the morning? Not a chance.” Bert moved to help with her suitcases, loading them into his SUV with efficient movements. He lifted her from the chair and placed her in his passenger seat. Then he collapsed her wheelchair and secured it properly, just the way she liked.
He’d learned everything about her… how she took her coffee, the way her nose crinkled when concentrating, the sound of her real laugh versus her polite one. He knew which routes she preferred to drive, which songs made her smile, and which memories brought shadows to her eyes. He’d spent months memorizing every detail, building a catalog of Mary in his mind like he was preparing for a mission.
But this wasn’t a mission. This was his life. And he was tired of living it halfway.
He’d fallen completely in love with her, and he’d never told her. Never even hinted at it beyond the careful boundaries of friendship.
The drive to the airport was quiet, both of them content to sit in comfortable silence broken only by the hum of the heater and the occasional song from the radio. Bert kept his eyes on the dark road ahead, his hands steady on the wheel, and tried not to think about the fact that in a few hours, Mary would be far away.
Two weeks. Fourteen days. It would feel like an eternity.
He’d been working up the courage to ask her out for months now. Every Tuesday when they had dinner together, he’d think about reaching across the table and taking her hand, asking if she’d consider moving their relationship beyond friendship. Every Thursday when they watched TV movies together, sprawled comfortably in her living room, he’d rehearse the words in his head where he asked if she considered them to be more than close friends.
But the words never came. Fear held them back, locked tight in his chest where they couldn’t do any damage to the friendship they’d built. Bert had accepted that. Or thought he had. She was everything he’d never known he wanted. Strong and capable and brilliant, with a dry sense of humor that caught him off guard and made him laugh more than he had in years. She was kind without being soft, independent without being distant, vulnerable in ways that made him want to protect her even though he knew she could take care of herself.
And her wheelchair? It didn’t matter to him. Not the way she seemed to think it did.
Bert had seen the moments when doubt crossed her face, when she watched him do something physical, and he could read the question in her eyes. Is this too much? Are you only helping me because you feel sorry for me? Would you be interested in someone who can’t do everything you can do?
He wanted to shake her, to tell her that he didn’t care about the wheelchair except for how it affected her life. He wanted to tell her that he’d learned to dance with wheelchair users just in case the opportunity ever arose to take her dancing. That he’d researched accessible vacation destinations and adaptive equipment and everything else he could think of because he wanted to be prepared if he ever worked up the nerve to ask.
He wanted to tell her that he loved her for who she was, not despite her limitations but including them, because they were part of what made her Mary.
They reached the airport as the sky was lightening in the east, that pre-dawn gray that promised sunrise. Bert pulled up to the departure area but didn’t immediately get out. Instead, he put the SUV in Park and turned to face Mary.
“Before we unload your bags,” he said, his voice steady despite the way his heart was hammering, “I need to say something. And I need you to let me get it all out before you respond.”
Mary’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded. “Okay.”