They'd taken a cab to his apartment after leaving the FBI office. His truck was still at the hospital, but he'd get that tomorrow. Right now, he just wanted to hold Bree, and as soon as he closed the apartment door, that's exactly what he did.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. Her silky hair brushed his chin, and he held her tight, grateful that Hayley was safe and that they were both still alive. The day could have ended so much differently.
"It feels like a decade has passed since we had breakfast here together," she told him, lifting her head.
He smiled. "I think we still have some Chinese food from last night, if you're hungry."
"Tracy got me a salad earlier. But if you're hungry—"
"No, the agent interviewing me also got me some food."
"I'm glad. That was a hellishly long session."
"There was a lot to explain. Speaking of explaining…I heard some of what Stix was saying to you on the stage, but not everything. I know he was out for revenge, but there's a part of this whole thing that just doesn't really make sense."
"Which part?"
Seeing the new tension in her expression, he was sorry he'd brought it up. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."
"You're talking about the way Stix orchestrated my trip through time—Emma coming up to me on the train, the flyer for the shelter, the photo for the fashion show. Although, the photo makes more sense now, because that was the night Stix was charged for attempted murder, and I gave Johnny an alibi."
"But all of that—the threatening calls from the kidnapper with the altered voice—was that Stix? Or was it Calvin?" Nathan asked.
"I don't know."
"And why all the attention on you? Why wasn't Stix gaslighting Johnny?"
"I wish I could have asked him all that. I still don't know who told him I had a kid. He mentioned some mysterious friend. And how did he find Hayley? I'm hoping we'll get more information as we investigate his life since he got out of prison. There's a woman somewhere who took care of Hayley. Maybe she'll know something."
"I hope so, but it's over, and that's what is important. Stix was obviously sick in the head—kidnapping a little girl, hiding her away, pretending to impersonate some other serial kidnapper, staging that whole scene at the school. You can't make logic out of crazy."
"No, but I wish I could." She moved her hands from around his back and cupped his face. "Your beautiful face is so bruised. It almost hurts me to look at you. I know you're in pain."
"Hey, the other guys I fought are dead, so I'm doing okay. I'm just sorry Stix ever got up to the roof. The man was strong. He threw me over the stage. Want to tell me how you pushed him over the edge?"
"I waited until he was standing right by one of those tall heating ducts. I ran forward, grabbed the duct, kicked up my legs in my best martial arts move and connected with his chest. I knew I needed to hang on to something, or I'd go into the river with him. He tried to grab my foot, but I kicked him again, and down he went, flailing his arms like a desperate bird."
He shook his head in amazement. "And to think I ever worried that you couldn't take care of yourself."
"You did take care of me today, Nathan. You came after me when Johnny's men grabbed me and took me to the shop. You jumped down from the beam over the stage like some superhero and tackled a man with a gun, giving me a chance to escape."
"Johnny put himself in front of a bullet for you," he couldn't help saying, even though the last thing he'd ever imagined himself doing was praising Johnny.
"I was shocked he did that. I guess his instinct to protect his daughter was stronger than his instinct to protect himself."
"Or it was his instinct to protect you."
She shrugged. "We'll never know."
"I heard his last words, Bree."
Her eyes widened. "What did he say?"
"He said to tell you that he finally did one good thing. He hoped it was enough."
Moisture filled her eyes, and he didn't know how he felt about her sadness for a man who had been his rival, his enemy—a man who had almost killed him once. But he couldn't look away. He couldn't ignore her feelings, whatever they were.
She blinked back the tears. "I'm not crying because I'm sad that he's dead."
"You're not? It kind of looks like you are."
"I'm sad because I wish he could have found that goodness in himself a long time ago. What a wasted life."
"You always saw the good in him."
"No, I didn't; I just wanted to see it. It was never really there. It was only in my head."
"Well, today it was there."
"I'm grateful he saved me, and he saved Hayley. But I'm not going to mourn him. He lived a life in a violent world, and he contributed to that violence. He hurt a lot of people, including you, most of all you," she said, running her hand down his cheek. "I have put you through so much, Nathan. I don't know why you're still with me."
He smiled as he rested his hands on her waist and drew her close. "You know why. I love you, Bree. I've been in love with you since I was thirteen years old. I think it happened the first time I saw you. You've always been the one for me, even when you weren't. I know it wasn't the same for you. I know you've loved other people."
"I'm sure you have, too, Nathan."
"I've cared about the women I've been with, but honestly Bree when you showed back up in my life, you made a mockery of all those feelings. I was just kidding myself thinking I felt anything close to what I felt for you with any of the women in my life."
"What about Adrienne?"
"I talked to her while you were in the salon. I told her it was over."
"Really?"
"She said she was surprised. But I'm not sure that's true. Even before you came back, Adrienne and I weren't quite in sync. We didn't have enough ease with each other to share our secrets."
"Or hatred of Brussels sprouts."
"You're going to make me eat some, aren't you?"
"I am," she said with a laugh. "But not tonight."
"Thank God—a reprieve." He leaned over and kissed her, because it had just been too long since he'd tasted her lips. He felt an overwhelming rush of desire, of love, of thankfulness that she was alive and safe and with him.
And then her phone buzzed.
As he let her go, he said, "I'm beginning to hate that thing."
She checked her phone. "It's from my friend, Parisa. Nothing important. She just wanted to let me know she's around to help if I need her."
"She's a little late."
"I could have asked sooner, but I had you."
"You're always going to have me."
A shadow crossed her face, and she pulled away, walking over to the windows. As he moved to join her, she turned around.
"Nathan, I love you, too."
"Why am I hearing a but?"
"This city…" She let the words hang. "Chicago is your home. It's where your family is. But I don't know if it's where I want to be. The past is no longer haunting me. Johnny is dead. Stix is dead. Hopefully, there isn't anyone else here who hates me."
"So you could come back. It seemed like the Chicago agents were treating you with more respect tonight."
"I did make my peace with Tracy. But there's something else."
He read the truth in her eyes. "Hayley."
She nodded. "I don't know if I could live here and not want to see her all the time. I just think it would be too hard."
"Maybe you could see her—be a part of her life. Mark and Lindsay are reasonable people. And after you saved their daughter, I think they feel damned grateful to you."
"That's probably all true. But I need to let them tell Hayley when it's right for her and for their family. That might not be for a long while."
He felt a heaviness settling over his heart, the same despair he'd felt when she'd gotten on the bus eleven years ago, and he'd wondered if he'd ever see her again. For days afterward, he'd been mired in pain—a pain that had gone far deeper than his physical wounds. Was he really going to let her walk away again?
"I can leave Chicago, Bree."
"But you love it here."
"I love you more. I can be a contractor anywhere. I do have to finish the house I'm working on, but after that, I can free myself up." As he was spoke, he was actually starting to like the idea. "It's not like I've never thought of leaving before."