Chapter Twenty-Two
MATHEW AWOKE FROM the most blinding pain he'd ever experienced in his life. When those assholes had captured him, they'd given him a jab with the butt of a pistol straight into the rib and another into the gut until he folded in half. After they'd tossed him into a room, they added a few choice kicks with their heavy boots. Mathew had been left incapacitated, gasping for breath.
Moving caused pain, breathing caused pain, and as of right now, even thinking caused pain. He was grateful for the whiskey, drugs, and rest. He was almost functional. Mathew remembered little about waking up in an office-type room and Verity finding him.
She was curled up on the recliner next to him, face soft with asleep. She was a marvelous wonder of bravery and courage. With help from a little old lady they'd left behind, Verity had rescued him. He would never find that in a woman again. Love bloomed in his chest while he watched her peaceful sleep.
"Hey, you're awake," his sister said.
"Yeah. Not sure if I'm happy about it yet."
"Here." She offered him a glass of water and more ibuprofen. He gulped them. His ribs were a dull ache, and he drew in a deep breath. Soreness, no pain. Mathew smiled in relief at his luck.
"So, I see no one broke down the fort last night," he said.
"No one was smart enough to find you or dumb enough to show up here."
"That's a good sign, I suppose."
The sadness was back in his sister's eyes as if she knew their end was coming, the final goodbyes. Mathew's eye caught on his sleeping Verity. "Can I ask you something?"
One corner of her lips lifted. "Sure."
"How did you know he was the one?"
April's small smile rose to a broad grin beaming with affection, the type he'd always wished to see on her. "When his needs are more important than your own, and his opinions truly matter. When his comfort is more important than your own and his stress worries you. When you find The One, he becomes more important than yourself and someone you can't live without. Your best friend." The baby cooed in his bassinet as if agreeing. "Why do you ask?" Her eyes flicked to Verity.
Mathew nodded to confirm. She smiled in silent approval and patted his shoulder. The cooing flipped to crying and April sighed. "Time for baby's second breakfast."
Crying baby Mathew woke Verity moments later, and she stretched freshened up. April tucked the baby inside her shirt and got him settled in. Verity returned to Mathew's side as if signaling she was ready to go.
"We're going to head out. Thanks for harboring fugitives," Mathew said.
"Ye willnae stay for breakfast?" Sam asked, strolling out of the bedroom and stuffing his thick arms into a shirt.
"No. You've done enough already. We need to be on our way to return a horse to Johnny and settle some business at the hotel." Mathew knew his sister and Sam were more than capable of returning a horse, but Mathew had something he needed to ask the man, and he could only do it in person. In Mathew's time, the gesture was antiquated and unnecessary, but in Verity's time, it was done for respect, and he had to honor her.
"There's only the one—The Astor House. Ye need deep pockets for that place," Sam said.
"Hey, how many trips do you have left?" April asked and shifted the baby to the other breast.
Mathew shifted his gaze even though she was covered. "My last one."
"Oh." April stared at the floor in sad contemplation, and then like the flip of a switch, she brightened and waved her arms. "I'll leave you notes about us and baby Mathew. You can find them in that secret drawer in the fireplace." She pointed. "That's how Sam apologized so I would return here."
"I'll check it, but I don't have any way of writing back."
"I understand. One of the downfalls of the choices we make."
He would love to come back for a visit before returning home, but a niggling sensation told him it wouldn't happen. He would never see his family again. Life was too short, too unfair, and too hard.
It was worth fighting for.
He glanced at Verity, having just verbalized his intentions to leave, but her face gave nothing away.
"Looks like you don't need me anymore." His heart squeezed in a fist. Mathew had to let her go, but he was comforted knowing Sam Hartley was watching out for her. "You've got this big lug instead."
"Of course I need you. You're my big brother." She sniffled. "You just can't give me any more horrible advice."
"Horrible?" Mathew feigned shock.
April chuckled. "Use my heart, not my head. Don't you remember? I would've been a starving artist rather than working for you and earning a paycheck. I can't believe you were telling me to quit. I couldn't have left you in a lurch like that."
"That wasn't terrible advice, and I was talking about love."
April squinted at him while processing the information. Her temper rose right before his eyes. "You were encouraging me to answer Levi. You knew about his proposal before I did."
Now he'd find out if she actually hated him for it.
"He came to me and asked to marry you. First, the guy sent red flags all over that somehow you missed. Second, when he told me his plans for a public proposal, I knew you'd hate it, but I encouraged him anyway. That's on me."
"What?" April placed a hand over her mouth. Was she was pissed off or grateful?
"He wasn't right for you," Mathew continued. "In my defense, if the guy didn't know you'd hate a public proposal, then he wasn't the right guy for you."
"I had no idea."
Mathew had later heard about the details of her horrific proposal at the casino, and it was worse than he'd figured Levi was planning. "So, you don't hate me?"
"Hate you? No, I only hate country music. Couldn't you have nudged him in a better direction? Something less ear-bleedy."
"Aren't you glad I didn't? It seems like you're doing okay for yourself now."
"Yeah, it's great. Sam's great." April observed her house as if assessing her current quality of life. There was misty nostalgia mixed with warm affection while her eyes roamed. Little Mathew whined with a quiet warning tone.
"And you're doing well for yourselves." Mathew glanced around at the furniture and weird wood oven. "So, you listened."
"If I agree that you were right, will you stop rubbing it in my face?" Her tone was light and playful.
"I won't be able to even if I wanted to." Because he'd never see her again.
Shines of tears rested under his sister's eyelids and she shifted the baby on her hip.
He added, "Any messages for back home?"
"Yeah. Tell Becca it was great working with her, and I hope her baby is well. Say hi to her husband Brad for me." Mathew would not tell her what really happened. It wasn't worth crushing her. "Tell Kiko thanks. Oh, and my next-door neighbor Ms. Lewis, bring her a muffin. Did you get my parting gift? Kiko was supposed to give it to you."
"I'll ask her. She only gave me the note."
"Make sure she gives it to you, and don't say no."