After Six Years The Alpha Begs For My Return Chapter 29
I sat at her bedside until dark. Only when the nurse came for rounds and urged me to get some rest did I finally stand and leave.
When I stepped out of the inpatient building, the night wind hit me, carrying the smell of rain-soaked soil and wet bark, its chill slipping down my collar.
I stood on the steps and looked up at the sky. The clouds had parted, revealing a few bright stars. In the distance, the lighthouse in White Ash River territory still shone, but it no longer felt like a chain.
My phone buzzed. A message from Reese.
*I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning.*
At seven-fifty the next morning, I changed into a dark coat and waited for him outside the hotel.
He drove an unremarkable black van with tinted windows. He was in the driver’s seat. On the passenger seat was a thermal bag.
“Breakfast.” He handed it to me. “It might be a long trip. Eat first.”
Inside was a sandwich and a hot coffee. The crusts of the sandwich had been cut off. It was filled with fried egg and ham, the sauce spread thin—almost exactly like the ones I used to buy from the café in Paris every day for six years.
“When did you learn to make this?” I asked after a bite.
“I didn’t. I had the hotel kitchen copy the recipe.” He started the car. “You bought the same one for three years straight. I figured you liked it.”
I chewed the sandwich, and for some reason, my throat tightened.
The van left the city, crossed the river bridge, and headed toward the fishing village on the opposite bank.
The scenery along the road changed from high-rises to factories, then from factories to vast, waving reeds.