"I'll be okay."
"Put the mask back on," he ordered.
"In a second. I want to thank you. If you hadn't come in when you did, I don't think I'd be alive."
"But you are alive; that's all that matters."
"What happened to Fletcher? He got out, didn't he?"
Colton nodded. "He got out, and he's been arrested."
"Well, at least he's not dead."
He marveled at the fact that Olivia didn't wish him dead after the man had almost killed her. "No, Fletcher will survive, and he'll pay for what he did tonight."
"What about what he did in the past? He was the one Molly went to for help. He turned her away."
"Because he owed Stan money, and he was afraid of him, too," Colton said, realizing he needed to update Olivia. "I just got off the phone with my brother-in-law Max. The cops have been interviewing Fletcher for the past hour."
"What did he say?"
"Fletcher told Max that Stan was running a bookie operation back in the day, and a lot of cops were in debt to him."
"Really?" she asked in surprise. "That's the first we've heard of that."
"Yes, it was all very hush-hush. When Stan was killed, the police didn't investigate his death, because they thought one of them had killed Stan."
"That's why the investigation was so short. Just when I start to think I know everything, I realize I don't."
"When you started digging into the past, Fletcher was afraid that somehow his part in what had happened would come out, not just the gambling, but the fact that he'd turned the other way when an abused woman came to him for help. He thought it would screw his chances of being Chief of Police, something he's worked for his whole life."
"He has no chance now that he's committed arson. I can't believe he was desperate enough to burn Molly's house down."
"He was also the one who broke into your hotel room. You told him at the bar the other night that Molly had left you her journals. He was afraid of what she'd written about him. However, after taking the journals from the hotel room, he also started to wonder if there might be more evidence against him back at Molly's house. He was terrified that this book you wanted to write was going to reveal all of his past wrongdoings."
"If he was worried about evidence, why didn't he try to find it before now? It's been so many years, Colton."
"He thought he was safe. After the fire Molly didn't want an investigation into Stan's death. She didn't press the cops to keep going when they stopped. She didn't tell them Stan abused her. She wanted it all to just go away. "
"I guess that makes sense," she said slowly.
"It was your book project that made him realize he might not be safe after all. And he didn't just turn Molly away, he broke laws gambling with Stan, and he helped cover up what he was sure was Stan's murder."
"Did he think Molly did it?"
"He wasn't sure. He suspected Molly, but he also knew that a couple of cops were in a lot of debt to Stan, and if Stan died, so did their debts." Colton took a breath, then added, "Fletcher didn't think anyone would be in the house tonight. He knew Molly lived alone and that she was at the hospital, probably dying. In his twisted rationalization, he didn't believe anyone would care if her house burned down."
"Until he realized I was in the house."
"He claims he never intended to hurt anyone."
"Well, he did help you free me, so I guess I have to believe that."
"I wouldn't let him off the hook so easily. You wouldn't have been in danger if it hadn't been for him," he said sharply, the memory of his terror when he'd seen Molly's house on fire running through him again. "He could have killed you, Olivia. I want him to pay for that."
She gave him a soft smile. "Hey, now who's thinking about something that didn't happen?"
He blew out a breath. "Guilty. Anyway, I guess we have all the answers now. Fletcher didn't help Molly and the cops didn't investigate because of Stan's bookie operation. And my grandfather killed Stan."
"Colton," she said.
He didn't like the gleam in her beautiful green eyes. "What?"
"It wasn't your grandfather."
"He told us how it all went down."
"It was a good story, but it wasn't the truth, and you know it."
Her words rang through him, and as he looked into her eyes, he realized he did know the truth. "Yeah, I know it. I just don't know what to do. I can't turn my grandmother over to the police."
"It was self-defense, Colton. She hit Stan to save Molly."
"She'd have to prove it in a trial. She can't go through something like that. She's sick, Olivia. You've seen what happens to her when she gets agitated."
"Which is probably why no one would ever put her on the stand." Her gaze softened in sympathy. "But you don't have to turn her in. You don't have to do anything."
"And that would be all right with you—considering that you may be Stan's granddaughter?"
"I
am
his granddaughter. I didn't get to tell you, but before the fire broke out, I found this in Francine's music box. It's a note she wrote to her baby girl after she gave her away." Olivia pulled some paper out of her pocket. "Francine said that the only thing she asked of the adoptive parents was they call the baby Olivia, because that was her middle name."
He smiled as Olivia got teary-eyed again, but this time there was a smile on her face.
"It's a beautiful letter," she said. "I want you to read it."
"I will, but not tonight. Tonight that letter is just for you to savor."
She nodded and slipped the note back into her pocket, then gave him a smile that made his heart turn over. "Thanks for being so understanding. You've been amazingly wonderful the past few days. I don't think I would have gotten through them without you."
"I feel the same way." His heart began to beat faster as he gazed at her, as emotions he'd never felt before, words he'd never said before threatened to spill out.
"Colton? Is there something you want to say?"
"Yes." But before he could say it, the door opened and the doctor walked in. He told Olivia that he would put a cast on her leg and that the pulmonologist wanted her to spend the night so they could keep an eye on her lungs and provide several breathing treatments over the next twelve to twenty-four hours.
Olivia tried to argue, but the doctor was firm, and Colton wasn't about to help her get out of the hospital. He wanted to be sure that she was completely fine before she walked out the door.
"I really hate this," Olivia told him when the doctor stepped out for a moment.
"I know, but it's only for a night. Do you want me to call anyone for you—your mom maybe?"
"No, I don't want to worry her. I'll talk to her tomorrow when I'm not in the hospital."
He brushed an errant strand of hair off of her face. "Olivia, I know I could pick a better time to say this. I'm sure the doctor will be back in any second."
"Then maybe you should speak quickly," she said with a smile. "Instead of all this rambling, which is so un-Colton-like. You're usually very confident."
He smiled back at her. "Not when it comes to something this important."
She groaned. "It's a good thing I'm in the hospital, because you're killing me."
"I've fallen for you, Olivia. I think it happened the first time I saw you when you literally knocked me off my feet."
Her smile lit up her eyes. "That was not my fault. You were checking your phone."
"And you were intensely curious about what was in your mystery box. Who knew it would all end up here?"
"Or what would happen along the way," she said quietly. "I've fallen for you, too, Colton. I just don't know what we're going to do about it."
"We're going to figure it out," he said, and this time he was confident. Because as long as he knew she felt the same way, he was going to make it happen.
The nurse came into the room and began setting up instruments for Olivia's cast.
Olivia gave him another smile. "You should go home, Colton."
"I don't want to leave you here alone. I can stay with you tonight."
"I'll be fine. I'm just going to be sleeping. I'm kind of exhausted. It's been a really long day. But if you want to pick me up in the morning…"
"I'll be here in the morning." He leaned over and gave her a loving kiss. "Don’t get into any more trouble without me."
"I won't," she said with a smile. "I'll miss you tonight."
"I'll miss you, too, babe."
* * *
Olivia slept through the night, exhaustion and pain medication sending her into a dreamless sleep. While the cast was uncomfortable, and she still had an ache in her leg, when she woke up a little before eight o'clock in the morning, she felt quite a bit better. She nibbled on some food the nurse brought her, wondering when she'd see Colton again. She hoped the pain medication hadn't made her imagine things, and that he had in fact told her he was falling in love with her, because she was definitely falling in love with him.
The man had literally walked through fire for her. His courage and strength were amazing. But those weren't the only traits that made her like him. She appreciated his loyalty to family and friends, the way he protected the people he cared about, and his ability to be completely honest and up front. He didn't play games.
She smiled to herself. That wasn't exactly true, but the games he did play she liked very much. She found her cheeks warming at the memories of being in bed with him. It seemed like a long time ago. And a part of her wished she hadn't sent him home last night, but he'd been as tired as she was, and she couldn't stand the thought of him trying to catch a nap while sitting up in the hard, uncomfortable chair next to her hospital bed.
Glancing at the clock, she felt impatient and restless. The nurse had told her that the doctor probably wouldn't be in to discharge her until ten, so she had two hours to kill. Impulsively, she pressed her call button. When the nurse appeared, she asked if she could be taken upstairs to see her grandmother. The nurse said she didn't see why not, and a few moments later, Olivia was wheeled into her grandmother's room.
Molly looked smaller, thinner, paler…She was clearly slipping away, if she wasn't already gone.
Olivia stared at her grandmother for a long time, wanting to soak up what might be the last few minutes she ever had with her. She wheeled her chair a little closer to the bed and put her hand over Molly's.
"I don't know if you can hear me or feel my touch," she said. "But it's me, Olivia. I know now that you wrote to me for a reason. I think you wanted to meet me, and you wanted me to meet you. Maybe at some point you would have told me the whole story and revealed our true relationship, or maybe not. I just wish we'd had the chance to speak to each other. I wish I could hear your voice, see your eyes—the eyes that people say look just like mine."
Sorrow filled her at a loss she'd never expected to feel.
"It's not fair that we should have come so close and not been allowed to connect," she continued. "But if this is all we get, then I'm going to take it." She swallowed hard and pushed through the heavy weight of emotion as she thought about what she wanted to say.
"I want you to know that I've had a good life. My parents were wonderful people. I have no complaints about where I grew up. Francine wanted the best for me, and I got it. So thanks to her, I had a good childhood, probably a better childhood than Francine had."
She squeezed Molly's fingers. "I know what you went through. I've been piecing together your story, and I have it pretty straight now. I don't know if you really wanted me to tell it, or if you just wanted me to hear it." She thought about that for another moment, then said, "But I know what I want to do now. And while I still hold out hope that you'll open your eyes and say hello to me, even if you don't, I'm going to do right by you. I promise you that."
She let out a sigh. "I wish you could hear me, Molly. I wish you could feel the connection between us, the love I have for you. I know that sounds strange, because we've never met, but I do love you. And I'll never forget you."
As a tear dripped out of her eye, she felt Molly's fingers move beneath hers. She started, looking at Molly's face. There was absolutely no movement there, and now her fingers weren't moving either. Had she imagined it?
"You're back again," a male voice said with resignation.
She didn't have to turn around to know it was Peter.
He moved around to the other side of the bed. "So I hear you narrowly escaped getting burned to death in my mother's house."
"You could try to sound a little happier about my escape," she retorted.
"I've been at the police station and at my mother's house for most of the night, so I'm a little tired."
He did look exhausted. There were dark shadows under his eyes. "I guess you know what happened."
"I know enough." His gaze moved to his mother and then back to her. "Those pictures you showed me yesterday; they were horrible."
She nodded. "Yes, they were."
"Her bruises were a lot worse than I remembered. I told myself for a long time that it wasn't that bad. My father could get mad, but he could be a good guy—sometimes—once in a while." He paused for a long moment. "I was lying to myself. I didn't want to have a father who beat his wife. After he died, it was easier to pretend that the fire was just an accident, that everything that had happened before didn't matter anymore."
"You were a child," she said gently. "You tried to protect yourself the only way you knew how. But you're not a child anymore."
"No, I'm older than my father was when he died. I wish I could tell my mother that I was sorry for downplaying what she went through, for blaming her for what happened to Francine. In many ways I treated my mother with the same disdain my father once did. I wish I could go back and change it all, but I can't."
"Oh, my God," Olivia murmured, distracted by Molly once again.
"What?" Peter asked.
"Her fingers are moving." She lifted her gaze to his. "You have to feel this."