Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 162567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
They said his heart stopped for a minute.
To see him awake, responsive, and on the road to recovery is still a shock to everyone. “Some-pounds lighter and a miracle,” I tell him.
“Not a miracle,” he says, still adjusting. “I’m just down to seven of my nine lives.”
“Jane would marry a cat.”
He laughs but tries not to laugh too hard this time. I’ve noticed how Thatcher takes loving glimpses of his wife every so often, and his lips rise each time.
Once the laughter fades, he’s back to adjusting himself up the bed. “God, my ass keeps falling asleep.” Right as he says the words, Sulli shifts off Banks as she wakes up.
Our attention veers over to my girlfriend.
She’s okay. I can’t replay the series of events that led us here. Honestly, it’s painful to revisit, and I’m looking forward these nights and days.
“Hey.” Sulli tries to whisper and slips off the chair. When she stands, her fist is closed, and I’m pretty positive she’s gripping onto her sobriety coin. “Thatcher…” She comes closer. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you without Jane…or once she fell asleep.” Her eyes redden.
I’m about to step out, to give them a second together.
“Kits, you can stay.”
So I stay.
Thatcher takes a deep breath, coughing a little, and I go grab his water off the tray. He gives me an appreciative look as I hand him the cup.
Sulli tries her best to hold his gaze. To not look away. “What you said before…when we were walking, I want that too. I want our kids to be friends and to be close, and I don’t want to be your least favorite person to be around—”
“You were never my least favorite, Sulli.”
“Really?” She frowns. “Who’s your least favorite?”
Thatcher thinks, then glances to me. Together, we say, “Charlie.” He’s burned all of us the most, but we’re still smiling saying his name. It’s hard for us on security to really hate Charlie. Not only because SFO protects him, but because most of us still don’t understand him fully.
And though it’s easy to hate what you don’t understand, we see the world doing that to our clients—to the people we love—all the dang time.
The world has even been doing that to me, Banks, and Sulli. And so we all try our best not to do it too.
Sulli grows red-faced. “If we’re being fucking frank here, my least favorite to be around was you. I hate that it was you.”
“It’s okay,” Thatcher says. “I didn’t make it easy on you. I don’t make it easy on a lot of people.”
She rubs at her wet eyes. “What you did…you…got shot protecting me and…” Her eyes begin to cloud with tears. “Thank you is a stupid fucking word because it barely covers what I feel.”
I put an arm around her shoulder. She sinks into my side for a minute, and I say, “That’s basically what I told him.”
Thatcher gives us a strict look. “I’ve heard enough thank yous between the three of you. I’m topped off. Just…do me a favor, you two.”
“Anything,” Sulli says.
“Love him forever. No matter what.”
“That’s not even a fucking question,” Sulli declares. “Banks already has my heart.”
I say, “And mine too.”
58
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
1 MONTH BEFORE THE OLYMPICS
JUNE
New paint job, Booger is looking more beautiful than ever. Summer breeze fills the car while I stick my head out of the window. Wild and free on an empty backroad. Though, we’re still in Philly. So one tablespoon of wild, five big cups of free.
This might be the last chance I have to ride in her before the Olympics, and she’s already been cooped up in the parking garage. Adam Sully would want this. I’m sure of it.
“We’re about to pass some of the fish markets,” Banks warns me from the passenger seat. “Gonna want to roll those up.”
I draw my head back inside. Akara takes a hand off the steering wheel to roll up the windows.
“Maybe I like the smell of fish,” I say.
“That’s because you are a fish,” Akara teases.
“She’s a mermaid,” Banks counters.
“Again, no such thing.”
I scoff. “One of these days, you will believe in the mystical beings.”
Akara looks to me from the rearview. “In your daydreams, Sul.”
Banks cuts in, “Can you pull off right here, Nine? I have to take a piss.”
Akara brings the car to a stop at a hole-in-the-wall pub, the lights flickering out. He parallel parks, only a few other cars parked on the street. We spent a few hours just trying to ditch paparazzi, so I’m not too surprised no one followed us. Our efforts weren’t for nothing.
Banks hops out of the car, and I follow suit, just to get some fresh air. I’ve been spending so much time at the Aquatic Center that my nostrils feel permanently infused with chlorine and muggy humidity. Banks heads into the pub.