“I think an infection that damages your heart is pretty bad.”

“And the medicine is healing it. In the meantime, it makes me a bit dizzy.” I shrugged again, hoping to play off the situation.

“It all happened because of that cut on your forehead?” he asked. I nodded in return and looked away, attempting to cut off his line of questioning. “How did you get it?”

“Let’s not do this here, okay?” I pleaded. “It’s probably not one of those conversations you want to have in front of… everyone.”

He wasn’t happy about that, but he looked satisfied to see me drinking water and I followed where his gaze had moved. Kate was sitting in a large, leather chair with Lane’s dad. The two of them each had an ear bud in one ear, and they were whispering animatedly about the music that I assume they were listening to. The Chief looked beyond joyful and I wondered if Kate had any idea that she was sitting in her grandfather’s lap.

I scanned the room for the other little set of eyes that usually weren’t far from Kate. When I came up empty, I immediately shot a look to Lane while trying to push myself more upright.

“Where is he?” I demanded.

“Hey, he’s okay,” Lane said with a consoling tone. “He’s just doing his psych eval. I can see the door from here. I’ll know the second he comes out.” His soothing words did little to diminish my anger.

“What? How dare you! He’s my child. I should have been the one to consent to this!”

Lane scooted across the couch and pushed me back down, his hands holding my arms gently. “Rae, you did consent. That’s why we’re here, babe, remember? I’m sorry, I told them we should wait for you, but dad made a good point. If we want to get this all over with, we need to just get it done. Braden said he would go first. I explained the situation to him and he seemed fine.” His words began to penetrate my fiery rage.

“What if she—” I began.

“I gave her very strict instructions not to pressure him,” he interrupted. I finally felt a deep sigh leave my chest and I stared at the closed door. “He should be done soon. Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to him.”

I stared at him when those last few words left his mouth and tried to decipher what he meant. I decided it was best just to ignore them for now. There were much more pressing problems at the moment. I laid my head back onto the couch pillow and thought about everything they could be discussing in there.

I had tried my hardest to make our situation appear as normal as possible to Kate and Braden. I never wanted them to know that they had been kidnapped. I didn’t want them to know that if we weren’t there, they could actually run and play in the sunshine... that there was so much more for them outside of those four depressing walls.

“I wasn’t sure exactly, but I told her that he probably wouldn’t know much,” he gently conveyed to me.

I nodded my head. “Thank you.”

My eyes had closed, so when I felt his hand lightly squeeze my leg, they snapped open in surprise. “We should head to the apartment tonight so they don’t have to keep paying for the hotel.”

The fact that he said the apartment and not his apartment was not lost on me. That was probably the last place I ever wanted to see again besides that house in Mexico. But the apartment I was cruelly taken from years before was a close second on the list. I didn’t have much of a choice though. I didn’t even have any identification, let alone money. I would need to figure something out really soon.

“We won’t stay there long.” His hard tone, indicating that he felt the same as I did about the place, surprised me.

“You must have a nice job now if you can afford to keep a New York apartment you don’t even live in anymore.” I’m not sure why I said that, but it came out of my mouth all the same.

“Ash’s parents kept it. They’re loaded, apparently,” he ground out.

Ash having money was news to me. As far as I could tell, they were living paycheck-to-paycheck back then. Lane had always been working any overtime shift he could catch, just so they could make ends meet and pay a nanny to watch their kid during the day. I liked Ash and we talked whenever she was home at the same time I was there, but I wouldn’t say we were close friends.

“I worked my ass off to keep the lights on and food in the fridge. All that time she had a trust fund with an ungodly amount of money in it. Her parents never liked me, or the fact that she married a rookie cop.”

The frustration and hurt in his voice was loud and clear. I couldn’t imagine feeling as if your partner had basically betrayed you. I had a hard time believing that she had let him work his tail off, day after day, to take care of his family, when he very well could have cut back some with that trust fund.

“Maybe her parents wouldn’t let her have access to it,” I suggested, hoping that would help in some way. “If that were the case, she probably didn’t mention it because it only would have added stress.”

“Maybe,” he conceded. “It’s all Kate’s now anyway. My mom’s been taking care of the apartment, hoping that I’ll come back.”

“She misses you, I’m sure.”

“The Lane they knew and loved was gone. I couldn’t stand being here anymore.”

All of a sudden, I realized how deep our conversation had become and how he was actually sharing a piece of himself with me.

“I think they love you enough to understand that. No one can fathom what it’s like to lose a child until it’s happened to them. I used to actually get down on my knees and thank God I was taken as well. I just couldn’t imagine being left behind to… wonder. Wonder where my child was.” I looked up and saw the tears in his eyes, and my heart clenched. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He swiped at his eyes and looked back at his dad and Kate. Thankfully, they were blissfully ignorant to our conversation. Gently, he scooped up my hand and squeezed.

“Don’t ever be sorry.” His words were brief, but they meant a lot to me. I’d gone through cycles of grief after the kidnapping. They spread out over the first few years. I was mad at myself. I was mad at Lane and Ash for not waking up to save us. I was ashamed. I even had a period of deep depression that I was all by myself to care of two infants. But his words were correctly aimed at my heart. I shouldn’t be sorry.

I accepted his moment of comfort and laced my fingers through his. He squeezed again, and I smiled up at his beautiful hazel eyes that were more golden than green today.

Charlie chose that moment to enter through the door and we quickly let go of each other’s hands. Lane used his forearm to wipe the remaining signs of sadness from his eyes and then aimlessly dug through his bag. I knew he wasn’t really looking for anything; he just didn’t want Charlie to see him crying. It was a shame because those hazel eyes sparkled brightly when they had water reflecting in them.

“Uhh… hey, guys. Should I come back?” Charlie asked.

“Of course not, what do you need…” I stopped talking when I looked down and saw what was in his hands. I recognized the bag instantly, the tattered black sides and pink piping expanding every edge. It was the only thing I had owned. That bag carried everything Braden and I needed when we lived here. I jumped up from the couch and snatched it out of his hands.

“How!?” I asked excitedly.

“Well, it was taken to the evidence locker after you were… um, well, taken,” he said sheepishly. “We usually dump it after 120 days, but Chief over here can be pretty convincing. I just went and picked it up for you,” Charlie stated. I smiled as wide as I could up at him.

“Oh my God!” I hugged the bag tightly to my chest. Besides Braden, it was the only thing I had that reminded me I actually had a life before Mexico.

“Wow, I practically saved her life by carrying her up here and made sure she was taken care of, but you,” Lane pointed at Charlie as he spoke, “you bring her an old, fraying bag and you get a smile like that?” Then his eyes landed on me. “A bit unfair don’t you think, babe?” His words were light and playful, which only made me laugh even more.

“I’m so happy right now, I could hug all of you!”

Lane opened his arms wide, and with a bright smile he gestured me in. I took the bait and leaned into him. He squeezed me tightly and repositioned me so we were chest to chest. He tried to subtly rub against me and I laughed, swatting at him as I pushed away.

“Perv,” I teased.

“Alright, you convinced me,” Charlie joked, holding out his arms in the same way Lane just had. The teasing of his tone kept the grin on my face.

“Not a chance,” Lane growled and Charlie roared with laughter.

I heard Charlie’s feet retreating from the room, but I was too busy unzipping my bag and searching through all of the items that had once belonged to me. I opened the side pocket first and smiled when I pulled everything out. My American passport, my long-since expired Colombian passport, my New York ID, and Braden’s birth certificate were all in there. I even found four hundred dollars, and I couldn’t have been more thankful to the frugal me from four years earlier. I dug further through the clothes and found an old photo album I used to carry with me.

“I’ve never actually seen one of these,” Lane said while handling my burgundy Colombian passport. “Your mom is Colombian, right?”

I nodded my head. “She married an American and convinced him to move there with her.” I flipped through the pictures until I found one of my parents. I smiled as I let myself think about them. So deeply in love, yet so naïve as to how to raise or care for a child. They were young, free spirits, who lived only for themselves. Having a child cramped their style.

A thought suddenly occurred to me that I’m sure should have crossed my mind sooner. “Did anyone contact my parents? You know… after?”

“They were contacted for information, yes. I remember your father being pretty upset.”

“We never really spoke much, but I should call them soon and let them know. If they even remember me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rae,” Lane scolded. He thought I was being overly dramatic, but the truth was that I used to have to remind my parents when it was my birthday. Once I called my mom and she didn’t even recognize my voice. Our relationship was distant at best. “When did you move here?” he asked.

“I was about eleven when our neighborhood started having an increase in drug crime. It continued to escalate and my dad demanded we all leave. My mom refused and he wouldn’t leave without her, so he sent me to live with his sister in Brooklyn. My Aunt Lisa should never have been responsible for a child, but then again, neither should my parents.”

“If you lived in Colombia for eleven years, I would have thought your accent would be heavier,” Lane said, looking through the pictures with me.

“That was my Aunt Lisa for you. She was more concerned with having a best friend and teaching me how to catch men. She also berated me for my accent and constantly taught me to speak with more of an American pronunciation. Guess it stuck.” I shrugged my shoulders because I really could have cared less. I’ve always had kind of a struggle with my heritage. I had no idea what I was. Was I Latino or Caucasian or both? Was I Columbian or American? What was my title? I had dual citizenship, but what did that really say about who I was?

I turned another page and ran my finger over a picture of myself taken when I was nineteen. I remember I had been waitressing in a diner over by the bridge, and my uniform consisted of a white button-up and a little, striped skirt. It had been summertime and the other waitresses and I were all out back in the summer heat on a smoke break. I had unbuttoned the bottom half of my shirt and tied it up high so my midsection was revealed.

“How old were you here?” Lane questioned quietly. His fingers grazed the photograph.

“Nineteen,” I replied. If I remembered correctly, it wasn’t long after that when I met Braden’s dad, falling head over heels for his charm. I really should have kept that shirt down.

“God, I am a pervert!” he groaned.

I laughed, “Hey, I was legal.”

“Barely, babe.”

I backhanded him in the chest and turned the page. This light banter between us felt nice. I was never able to speak to any of the adults at the Flores’ house. Not that I had wanted to anyway. But speaking to someone over the age of five provided almost immediate stress relief. Finally, I could have adult conversations!