Chapter One
"I know what you want to do," she said quietly bending over him to inject his daily dose of insulin. Her fingers brushed his skin. He tried to remain impassive.
"And what's that?" he asked with a smirk. She leaned in closer to where her lips were almost touching his ear.
"Break out." Michael froze.
"Are we finished here?"
"You're going to get yourself killed." His eyes flashed and suddenly she understood. "But then again, you probably don't care about that."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do. And I know why you're lying, but Michael they'll kill you." He looked into her eyes and she caught her breath, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of information that passed between them. He nodded as if he'd made a decision.
"Are you going to tell?" he asked quietly.
"No."
It was two months before she got the postcard. Two months of waiting and wondering and then, there it was. It was a bit frayed at the edges with a picture of a small overturned boat and handwriting as familiar and mesmerizing as it had been on that tiny scrap of paper he'd shoved into her hand. I love you. The postcard read simply, "Wish you were here. Hugs and Kisses from Baja! Your Amiga. P.S. Beers are 25 cents at happy hour." Even the girly accents to it couldn't disguise its true meaning, that voice whispering to her as she drowned in a color changing pool. Every voice in her head was telling her not to do it, not to risk everything she'd worked for on an escaped convict. But her head didn't pack her bag, didn't buy her plane ticket, didn't take off her shoes as she walked down a beach in the late afternoon sun.
It was almost dark when a hand pulled at the bottom of her shirt and she looked down to see a little boy with big eyes and an even larger grin.
"Come with me," he said. She followed him up past a row of houses and to the beach in front of a bar with a large open terrace. The sun was setting, a thin slice of orange over an already darkening abyss. "Wait here." She stood still. The little boy disappeared into the throbbing mass at the bar. The sun disappeared into a motionless sea. She heard his voice.
"Hey wait a minute kid. Where are you taking me? Come on man te---." He stopped short. "Sara?"
"Hey Michael." And then she realized they'd never even kissed. They'd had hundreds of tiny moments and yet she barely knew him. He looked amazing, tan and relaxed in way she had never dreamed of before. The look on his face was indescribable; some mix of surprise, concern and pure joy.
"Hey." He took her hand and pulled her to him as the little boy disappeared once more. He pulled her to him and kissed her with the only real hunger he'd ever had. "I see you got my postcard."