EPILOGUE

 

 

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

Jack blinked. Sunshine. That’s what he saw. A casement window with sun pouring through it.

“Yo, big guy. Over here.”

Jack pivoted his head on the pillow and felt the room tilt. He opened his eyes and saw her.

"You look beautiful."

"Whoa," Olivia chuckled. "Those are some pretty strong drugs they gave you."

Sunlight infused golden strands in her dark blond hair. A red scarf hung unfurled around her neck over a navy wool sweater. Her cheeks were blushed and her lips glossy and pink. She looked so healthy. So goddamn beautiful and healthy. No one had hurt her. She was safe, and she was bowing over him, smiling.

“I want to kiss you,” Jack declared hoarsely.

Olivia leaned in and he breathed in a waft of coconut. His eyes dropped closed as he waited for the blissful brush of her lips against his.

They were there—soft, moist—a beguiling taste he would never tire of. And then they were gone—

“As much as I’d love to kiss you all afternoon,” she whispered against his ear, “I have to cut it short. You have visitors.”

Olivia stood up straight and Jack started. He could now make out two men standing behind her, tolerant grins on their faces.

A hasty glance at the pale almond walls and he suddenly realized that he wasn’t in Olivia’s bungalow. Instead of white spruce trees outside her oval window, he was looking at a digital tree with a sack of liquid hanging from it. The tug of a line in his arm could be traced back to that translucent bag. Railings fenced him in place and the doorway revealed a bustling kiosk surrounded by chatty nurses.

“Jack-o.”

Every muscle in his body had cemented at the glimpse of the hospital room, but seeing his uncle grinning and healthy allayed that tension.

“You look good for a man who has been swimming with the fishes.”

Warren removed his baseball cap and clutched it in both hands. He reached up and swiped at his mussed gray hair.

“You’re one to talk,” Jack countered. “You decided to take a swan dive yourself.”

It all came back to him then. Maybe Olivia had been right. Maybe he’d been given some good drugs, but now clarity returned and he recalled the sting of the frigid water—and the image of Hawkins’ hand reaching—reaching—

Instinctively he groped at his bare chest, curious fingers locating the layer of bandages. Anxious, he searched Olivia’s eyes.

“You’ll live, hero.” She winked.

Agent Cowler stepped up to his bedside. Normally clean-shaven, it looked like he hadn’t touched a razor in days. Also, the routine uniform of crisp white shirt and striped tie was now replaced with an open-collared flannel shirt and a tan canvas jacket.

“You were fortunate,” he explained. “One of those classic one inch to the right tales. Hawkins shot you just below the shoulder and just above the heart. Between you and your uncle I’ve had enough of hospitals lately.”

Jack pushed himself up higher and felt the jab of pain he hadn’t detected before.

“Hawkins?” he asked.

Cowler shook his head. “No. He didn’t make it. But we’ll use what we know of him, combined with your pictures, and the recounts that you, Olivia, and Warren have provided to try and locate the operation Hawkins worked for. We have some working theories. After all analysis teams have reviewed them, Amanda Newton’s lawyers will receive copies of your pictures and our official notes. Miss Newton’s law suit will be dropped.” Cowler gave a sideward glimpse and smirked. “And also, Warren has already volunteered to go out with one of our ships to oversee our search operation.”

Warren stuffed the baseball hat back on his head and managed a sheepish grin. “I’ll sneak in some Deep Weather filming while on board. You know,” he winked at Jack, “use their boat while I deal with the insurance company.”

Cowler cleared his throat. “Of course I did not hear that.”

The chuckle caused Jack to wince, but Olivia’s steady touch on his arm kept the pain at bay. His eyes dropped closed…

When they opened again the window glowed in pale pink hues. Activity could be heard out in the hallway. Nurses answering intercoms. A doctor’s timbre voice talking to a patient’s family.

Jack thought he was alone until he felt something stir at his side. The bedside rail was down and Olivia’s head rested on crossed arms atop the mattress beside him. She was snoring.

Jack rested his head back against the pillow and smiled. His fingers curled into her silky hair, loving the feel of it. She stirred and turned onto her cheek, still resting atop her folded arms. Dark lashes fluttered and azure eyes opened. Her face glowed with peace.

“You sleep a lot, Morell,” she whispered groggily.

“How would you know, McKay? You’re out cold yourself.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Propping himself up as best he could, he regarded her face for so long she became antsy and sat upright.

“What?” Fussing with her hair, she tried to straighten the wayward strands.

“So that’s what you look like,” he murmured.

“Huh?” Self-conscious, she glanced at the window looking for her reflection in the lights from the corridor.

“I realize that I started falling for you without ever having seen your face. For as long as I’ve known you, half of your face has either been blue, purple, or yellow. Now I see that you have the healthiest, most beautiful pink cheeks.”

Olivia laughed quietly. “You already saw those.”

“That I did,” he whispered.

Cupping her chin in his palm, he felt his throat constrict. “Olivia, I want to kiss you.”

Serenity softened her features. She hefted up on her elbows and leaned over him, that glossy hair tickling his chest and shoulders. Velvety lips brushed his with a tentative sweep. His fingers combed up behind her head, holding her steady as he corralled that temptation. Every brush of his mouth to hers demanded more until a nurse cleared her throat at the foot of the bed.

Olivia snapped back into her seat and Jack flashed a complacent grin. Even as he offered his arm up to the business-like RN, his eyes were still locked to Olivia’s. As soon as the nurse was gone he reached for her hand.

“I’m not going to push you, Livvy McKay, but I want you in my life. I’m just letting you know that.”

Her throat flexed. Moist lips parted and then clamped shut. She looked towards the window−it seemed for an eternity. Finally her eyes slid back to his and there was a glint of mischief in them.

“I often smell like rotten fish.”

“I noticed that when I met you.”

“You won’t try to keep me off the ocean or anything? You won’t try to suffocate me, like Georgie does?”

Jack’s head shook slowly. “No,” he vowed in a soft voice. “I won’t do that. In fact, I have a business proposition for you.”

“Oh?” Her chin lifted, and her shoulders pinned back. “What?”

“Well, I’m not sure how receptive you’ll be to this−but I was wondering if I could lease out your yacht for a while−I mean until the new research vessel arrives at PMSC. This would just be for the winter−your down-time, and of course,” he touched her hand resting on the mattress beside him. “Of course, I’d only let you command it. Your boat. You’re in control.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant. The gesture hurt, but he wouldn’t reveal that.

Olivia cocked her head, dark blonde strands sliding down her shoulder.

“I’m the captain,” she declared. It was not a question.

“Correct.”

Moist lips pursed in consideration. “I’d only be available until March. Then I have to focus back on McKAY CHARTERS.”

Jack nodded. “We should have our replacement ship by then.”

“Would you show me some benth−benthic animals?”

His nod was slow. Cautious. “Of course.”

Olivia rose and stepped across cables running along the floor. She inched closer to the head of the bed and leaned over, brushing her lips over his ear. “You have a deal, Mr. Morell.”

Jack leaned back so that he could kiss her mouth soundly. “You are a difficult negotiator, Miss McKay.”

“Oh, I’m not done,” she murmured against his lips. “I haven’t even started in on how we’re going to work on my lighthouse together.”

Together.

“Demanding, you are, but I will probably concede.” He caressed her lips and tugged his arm against the resistance of the IV.

The temptation to rip that barrier out of his arm was overwhelming. He didn’t want a tepid hug. He wanted to reach out and haul her onto this hospital bed with him.

“So tell me,” she drew back enough to gaze into his eyes. “Do you think I’m a crazy lady with ghosts in my house?”

That deserved consideration. It wasn’t a joke, despite her delivering it as one. That was evident as she chewed her lip, awaiting his answer.

“You are my Wonder Woman,” he declared soberly. “You can do anything you set your mind to, and I am constantly in awe of your skills.” He gripped her upper arms. “They dubbed you as crazy because you chose to stay out on that peninsula all alone.” He kissed her. “You won’t be alone anymore.”