his mouth to answer, but a nurse came in. She smiled brightly at Jas. “Sir, can you wait outside for a few minutes?”
He gave his grandpa a suspicious look, but he couldn’t call the older man a liar in front of witnesses. He slipped out of the room and pulled his phone out. He wanted to text Katrina, but they’d left things far too unfinished. They needed to talk in person.
He groaned when he saw Lorne’s text. They’ll announce the pardon tomorrow. I’m sorry, Jas.
He hit reply. That’s okay, he typed. Except it wasn’t okay.
It’s so hard for you to tell anyone what you need.
He looked up and down the deserted hallway, then hit Lorne’s name. She picked up on the second ring. “Hey. Sorry to deliver the bad news via text. I tried to call, but it went straight to voicemail.”
“I’m visiting my family, the reception’s spotty here.” He paused. “It’s certain?”
“Yes. I don’t know if you’ve seen the news at all but the press is already spinning it as the vindication of an American patriot.”
Jas stared blindly at the blank off-white wall. “What about us?” If McGuire was the patriot, what were they, the ones who had stopped him from murdering an innocent? The ones who carried the scars of that night?
“We’re forgotten. Unless we make it so we’re not.”
“You want to go to the press.”
“Yes. There shouldn’t be only one narrative out there. I have two reporters chomping to get the story.”
He closed his eyes, stomach churning. He had to back Lorne up. That was what was right.
What do you need?
“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” he said, enunciating every word carefully. “I can’t go through this again. I can’t bring those memories up. The nightmares. They’re so bad, Lorne.” His voice cracked on her name.
“I absolutely understand. I have to do this, but I get that you can’t.” Her tone was extremely gentle. “You had my back that night. I’ll have yours now. I’ll do my best to run interference so no one comes looking for you.”
He released a careful, shaky breath, the anxiety and fear leaving him. A dogged reporter might run him down, but he’d deal with that if and when it happened. “Thank you.”
“No worries.” She hesitated. “Listen, you can tell me it’s none of my business. Are the nightmares a regular thing?”
“Sometimes.”
Lorne made a sympathetic noise. “For me too.”
He scuffed his shoe on the linoleum. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely. You’re not alone.”
Jas swiveled away as a man bustled past him. He waited until the hallway was clear before he spoke, his voice low. “I feel alone sometimes.”
“Have you ever tried therapy?”
“Briefly.” Right after he’d come back home, before he’d gone to work for Hardeep. After that, his therapy had simply been to run away and forget.
“It helped me. Especially with the nightmares. I still go in for a tune-up.” She cleared her throat. “I can ask around, send you some names of good ones near you.”
He shifted. Bikram had offered the same. If multiple people were going to bombard him with referrals, he had to call someone. “Might not be such a bad idea.”
“Roger that. Hey, I’ll text you the dates I’ll be in California, too. We’ll get that drink.”
“Sounds good. Thank you for handling everything.”
“Not a problem. We all deal with things in the ways best for us. Take care.”
He hung up. He didn’t know how long he stood there, slumped against the wall, the relief like a drug in his veins.
“Son. How are you?”
Jas straightened. “Fine, Dad. Good to see you.” He hugged Gurjit, squeezing him extra-tight. His stepfather looked like an older version of Bikram, with the same stocky build. Jas inhaled, the familiar scent of Old Spice calming him.
“Whoa there. You okay?” His father’s big hand patted him on the back.
Jas hugged him tighter. “Yes. Everything is great.”
Gurjit paused, then whispered in his ear. “Your mother filled me in regarding dinner the other night. I’m proud of you, son.”
Jas coughed to clear the frog in his throat, then stepped back. “Thanks.” Gurjit was dressed in khakis and a black button-down shirt, which told Jas that his father must have driven here straight from work. The man didn’t wear anything but jeans when he was off.
Gurjit examined him closely. “You look tired.”
“Haven’t slept much. I drove home, then had to turn right around.” He gestured to the door. “Give it to me straight. He’s faking, right? This is some elaborate ruse? That nurse is in there chatting with him, not taking