Chapter 8 - The Things We Almost LoseI woke in a hospital.
Olivia was asleep beside my bed.
Her hand was wrapped around mine.
Charles stood by the window.
“You've developed a habit,” he said.
My throat felt like sandpaper.
“What habit?”
“Saving my daughter.”
I tried to smile.
“She's expensive.”
Charles actually laughed.
The bullet had passed through my shoulder.
Painful.
Messy.
Not fatal.
Grant had been arrested 2 blocks from the warehouse.
Martin was in custody.
Madison entered protective cooperation with federal investigators.
And the evidence recovered from Grant's storage unit was devastating.
Rebecca expected indictments involving fraud, conspiracy, money laundering, obstruction, and attempted kidnapping.
My name had been cleared internally.
None of that mattered when Olivia woke.
She looked at me.
Then slapped my uninjured arm.
“Ow.”
“You went inside.”
“There were police outside.”
“You went inside.”
“You were kidnapped.”
“That does not make you Batman.”
“I drive a Honda.”
“You don't even have the Honda anymore.”
Fair point.
Then she started crying.
I reached for her.
She climbed carefully beside me and pressed her forehead against mine.
“I thought you died.”
“I didn't.”
“You don't get to do that again.”
“Get shot?”
“Any of it.”
I looked at her.
“I love you.”
She froze.
So did Charles.
I glanced toward him.
“Could you maybe—”
“Absolutely.”
He left immediately.
Olivia stared at me.
“You're on morphine.”
“I loved you before the morphine.”
“When?”
“Probably somewhere between you stealing my fourth pen and nearly getting us run over.”
“That's horrible.”
“I'm new at this.”
Her eyes filled again.
Then she kissed me.
“I love you too.”
For once, I didn't search for the exit.
The scandal exploded publicly 4 days later.
Holloway and Pierce announced an independent review.
Charles refused to hide the firm's failures.
Several executives resigned.
Halcyon's leadership faced criminal charges.
Clients demanded answers.
Reporters camped outside headquarters.
The company survived, but barely.
Charles offered me a promotion after I recovered.
I refused.
His eyebrows rose.
“Why?”
“Because if I accept it now, everyone will think I'm getting it because of Olivia.”
“You were getting promoted before any of this.”
“Then let the process prove it.”
Charles stared at me.
Then smiled.
“Annoyingly principled.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn't entirely a compliment.”
Olivia eventually returned to work.
Not under Bennett.
For the first time, her office door said:
OLIVIA HOLLOWAY
DIRECTOR OF BRAND STRATEGY.
No hiding.
No apology.
One evening, 2 months after the warehouse, she found me waiting beside the elevators.
“You're staring.”
“I'm observing.”
“Creepy.”
“You look happy.”
She considered that.
“I think I am.”
The elevator arrived.
She stepped inside.
I followed.
Then she looked at me.
“Renner's tonight?”
I stared.
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“The last time I went there, I lost a car, got suspended, uncovered federal crimes, and was shot.”
“You also got me.”
I considered it.
“Seven-thirty?”
May you like
She smiled.
“Seven-thirty.”
