“Jesus Christ, you have no idea,” Cormac said, his relief plain.
They shook hands and fell into a guy hug, one-armed, thumping each other’s backs. My eyes started tearing up. I quickly wiped them clear before anyone could see.
Ben was rambling. “Are you okay? Is everything okay? They didn’t hassle you, did they? Here, let me take that.” They argued over his bag for a minute. Rolling his eyes, Cormac finally let Ben slide the duffel bag off his shoulder.
“I’m fine, everything’s fine, don’t coddle me, I just want to get out of here.”
Then Cormac and I faced each other.
He was taller than me, so I had to look up at him. He’d spent much of the last two years indoors, and it showed. He was paler than I remembered; before prison, he’d always had the burnished tan of a real outdoorsman.
But he was here, finally, and he looked good. Still strong, his eyes still clear and focused. He regarded me wryly.
“Well?” he said. The word carried weight, because the last time I’d faced him like this I’d been single, and we’d had something. But that was a long time ago, and right now I felt only relief. For his sake, for Ben’s, for me. Now it finally felt like we could all move forward.
I fell into his arms, and he clung to me like I was an anchor. He was solid in my embrace, real, which was good, because maybe part of me hadn’t believed he was back until now. I turned my face to his neck and took a deep breath.
I had always associated Cormac with leather, gun oil, toughness. The smells of a hard-bitten attitude and a guy who meant business. That scent had faded from him, replaced by other smells: concrete dormitory, institutional soap, faint sweat raised by the heat of the day. A new Cormac. Or maybe this was a purer Cormac, with the weapons and harshness stripped away. This was going to take some getting used to.
We pulled away, and I felt myself grinning like a maniac.
“What is it?” he said.
I shook my head. “It’s just really good to see you on the outside.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Ben said, glancing over his shoulder. “I keep thinking they’re going to change their minds and come running back here for you.”
That was enough to make me want to grab both of them and rush, but we walked toward the parking lot. Cormac kept looking around, a thin smile on his face. I was still grinning.
“I need to thank you for saving my life,” I said.
Cormac glanced at me. “Not again—”
“No. This is a couple weeks ago.”
Now he looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Never mind.”
He smirked. “All right. What almost killed you this time?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
“You know,” Ben said. “Things might have been a little calmer for you on the inside.”
“Don’t count on that,” Cormac said flatly.
“Okay, what aren’t you telling us?”
“Long story.” Well, he hadn’t lost that inscrutable smile, had he? “You know what? I want a steak,” he said. “A real steak. Thick. Rare.”
My mouth watered at the thought.
“There’s a place just up the road,” Ben said. “I think it caters to ex-cons craving real food.”
“Good,” Cormac said.
I ended up walking between them, so I wrapped my arms around both their middles and pulled them close. Cormac draped an arm over my shoulder; Ben hugged me, and we matched strides. And it felt right.
Our pack of three was whole again.
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Document ID: 39dbf02b-8572-41c7-8046-8f09efeb1bec
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 13 March 2010
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