“Then I ought to be thanking you,” Sully said slowly. He signed the paperwork and handed it back to Sam while I watched on in amazement. Sam took the paperwork and reached into his pocket.
“I always wished I’d seen Ronan again,” he said. There was an odd, obvious twist to his voice that made me want to cry. “I’ve wanted to thank him for a very long time for what he did for me. That wreck was catastrophic. I was badly injured. Beyond badly injured. It took me eighteen months to regain full use of my body. It was a long, hard, painful road, but I was grateful that I was alive to take each agonizing step of it. Ronan risked his own life to save me and the two other guys he dragged out of that truck that night. I’ll never forget it. Neither will my wife, or my two kids.” He opened up his wallet and held it out for Sully to see—inside was a photograph of a beautiful blonde woman, holding onto two tiny little boys who were unmistakably Sam’s. “They want to convey their thanks to the man that saved my life just as much as I do, Captain Fletcher. It’s a debt that can never be repaid.”
Sully stood motionless, looking down at the picture. He nodded very slowly, his hands now curled into fists as his sides. “I’m sure my brother would be honored that you’d built such a beautiful life for yourself, Sergeant Coleridge. And he’d want to tell you that saving your life was one of the only things he was proud of accomplishing in his life, too.”
Sam’s eyes shone brightly, filled with tears. “Well. Hoo-rah for second chances, huh, Captain?” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “For me, and for you, I think.”
EPILOGUE
Dr. Fielding was way taller than I’d assumed in person. His office smelled like worn leather, but not in a manly way. In the kind of way it might smell of worn leather if he’d gone to an interior design store and bought a candle called “Worn Leather” that he burned on a shelf, while he mentally assessed troubled children and their equally troubled parents.
Connor sat on the very edge of his seat, pressing two Legos together and pulling them apart again over and over. Amie was happily entertaining herself on the floor on the other side of the room with another little girl, who seemed perplexed by Amie’s disinterest in her Barbie collection.
Fielding, at least six foot four, refused to sit down and was standing by a bookcase, running his fingers absently over the spines of the books displayed there: Dr. Seuss mixed in with From Childhood to Adolescence and The Cambridge Anthology of Child Psychiatry. “So, Connor. Tell me. Are you happy to be back in the city now?” he asked.
Connor stopped pressing the Legos together and pulling them apart. “Yes. I like it here a lot.”
“And do you like your new place? Were you sad you weren’t moving back into your old apartment? The one you lived in with your mom and dad?”
Connor put down the Legos and raised his head, looking Fielding right in the eye. “No, I’m not sad. I like the new apartment. You can see the park from my bedroom window. And the river, too.”
A lot happened after Sully and I left Camp Haan. The restaurant was safe, and Mom was determined to be independent. I’d been worried about telling her I was going to move permanently to New York, but when I’d plucked up the courage and blurted it out, she’d been absolutely thrilled for me. Aunt Simone was moving into a house a couple of doors down the street, and she was going to run the restaurant with Mom. With the extra money left over from the payout Linneman put into my bank account, there was enough cash to rebrand the place and really give it a fresh start. Umberto’s was now “George’s Place,” and I couldn’t have been happier.
When I’d gotten off the plane at JFK, Sully was by my side, smiling softly. To me, he hadn’t looked anything like his brother in that moment. He was purely Sully—a new man. Tall, dark, devastatingly handsome, and all mine. He’d picked me up and taken me into his arms, holding onto me like he was afraid I was some kind of mirage and I was going to disappear any second, and he’d kissed me hard. The world had stopped. There was no airport. There were no announcers over the tannoy. There were no crowds of people waiting for their loved ones, or hurrying to make their flights. There was only me and him, and our future lying out before us, and it was the most perfect moment.
“Are you ready to go home?” he’d asked.
“God, yes. So ready.”