And I knew in my heart that Bailey and I wouldn’t be either.
That yesterday would have been our end if Jace hadn’t come to me.
“He gave it all for us,” Ian murmured, his voice catching in the quiet, the intensive care near deserted, just the quiet shuffle of nurses’ feet as they moved from one place to the next.
I turned back to the window that overlooked the darkened room, the barest glow inside where Jace was covered in tubes and wires, the man left to the hands of the machines.
I pressed my palm to the window. “And the only thing I want is to give it back.”
Ian pushed out a soft sound, the hard, hard man turning to look at me. “Do you know what he loved most about you?”
My eyes squeezed closed for a beat, and my knees shook, barely able to stand beneath the devastation that thrummed in my chest.
I couldn’t form the words, couldn’t make a sound except for the sorrow that wobbled at the base of my throat.
His words filled the air, “He loved your belief. That you looked at the world differently than anyone else. That you looked at him differently. It scared him, but it was what he loved most. There’s a reason you’re here. I think there always has been.”
He angled his head, getting close to my face. “You saved him . . . saved us from the life we were set on. From living the kind of life we were destined for. You were the reason. You were his courage. You were his belief. Don’t give up on that faith now. Because that? I think that is what would kill him.”
Then Ian, the guy who wore the biggest chip on his shoulder and an easy smile that was nothing but a wicked grin, turned and walked out.
I turned back to the glass separating Jace and me.
Pressing my palm harder to the cool surface.
Praying . . .
Praying . . .
Come back to me.
I sat at his bedside.
A day.
Then two.
Then three.
Unable to sleep. Only able to pray.
Exhaustion weighed down my shoulders, and grief weighed down my spirit.
But he was no longer on life support. His heart beating on its own. The man slipping in and out of a disoriented consciousness every so often.
That was the only thing that mattered. The only thing I clung to as I listened to the steady beep, beep, beep of the machine that tracked his heart.
I laid my head on the side of his bed, my hand wrapped in his, my eyes drifting closed as I poured all my belief into him.
I guessed I’d drifted because I startled when I felt the hand squeezin’ mine. I jerked my head up to see that copper gaze staring back at me.
Soft and hard and everything between.
My beast.
“Jace,” I whispered. His name my confession.
I shot up and rushed out into the hall. “He’s awake,” I shouted at the nurse.
She came right in, and I anxiously stood back while she checked his vitals and helped him take a drink of water.
Some of that anxiety drifted away when she said that everything looked good and the doctor would be in soon to check him out.
The second she stepped outside the door, I rushed for him, my hands moving across his face, and I started to ramble, the emotion and fears finally cresting in a tsunami that poured from my mouth.
“Jace . . . you’re going to be okay. You’re here. I’ll . . . I’m going to take care of you. I’m so sorry . . . God, I’m so sorry. You’re goin’ to be okay.”
Nervously, I tried to adjust his sheets. To make sure he was comfortable. Desperate for something to do with my hands.
“Faith—” My name cracked on his tongue, but the words kept coming from me in a nervous rush.
“We’ll put the renovations on hold, and I’ll take care of you. The way you have always taken care of me. It’ll be okay, I promise—”
He grabbed me by the wrist. “Faith, stop.”
I blinked at him, fighting the tears.
But they were there.
“Please, stop,” he begged, grief and torment etched onto his face.
A choked sound left me, everything catching up. Everything we’d been through becoming a chasm that echoed between us.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“When I’m released from here, I’m going to go home with Ian.”
My head shook. “No.”
Moisture filled his eyes, and he searched my face, so tenderly that I wanted to drop to my knees.
“I failed on the one thing I promised you. That I would never let anything happen to you or Bailey again. I walked out and left you in that bastard’s hands. I can’t do one thing right.”
“No . . . you saved us. You saved us.”
His head shook, and he turned his attention to the far wall. His jaw worked, and I saw him gathering the words before he looked back at me.
“No. You almost died because of me. Because I was too much of a coward to admit to you what I knew and who I was. I put you and Bailey in danger, again and again.”
I squeezed his hand as tightly as I could. “No.”
He smiled softly at me. Affection and the most intense kind of remorse. “It’s the truth, Faith. You know it as well as I do. I saw it written on your face when I admitted it to you. You know I’m responsible for Joseph. For stealing your husband. For stealing your daughter’s father. For failing you time and time again. I can’t bear the thought of you thinking it every time you look at me.”
“Jace, please,” I rushed, flying to my feet and gripping his shoulders.
He winced.
Pain bleeding through even though they were pumpin’ only God knew what through that bag that dripped into him.
I could imagine all the pain he was feeling came from his spirit. The guilt that moved through his face. The same shame he’d been watching me with for all those weeks, the shame I hadn’t been able to understand.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, winding his hand out of my hold and setting it on my face. “So sorry. But I can’t stay here. Not after everything.”
“Jace,” I pleaded, and he was giving me that smile again.
“I came here for one thing, Faith, and that was to make sure you and that little girl were okay. To protect you. Now there’s nothing keeping me here.”
His thick throat bobbed when he swallowed, and his eyes dropped closed before they were open again.
Blazing as they pierced me.
Slamming me with all that intensity.
“Go. Live your life. Take that house and make it something special the way you always wanted. No one is left to stand in your way.”
Tears streaked down my face. “Jace, don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.”
His smile softened farther as he reached out, a tube secured to his wrist, his fingers gentling through my hair. “There’s too much history between us. Too much hurt. Too many lies. Go, good girl. Live a good life. I refuse to taint it any more.”
“Jace . . . please . . .”
It was a sob that broke.
A cracking in my spirit.
The last thing holding me together.
Please.
Those fingers brushed down my face. “I need to go. Figure out who I am after all of this. I am responsible for the death of my cousin. Because I was angry at him, I turned my back on my family. I’m not sure how I’ll ever forgive myself for that, but I do know that I can’t do it here.”
Weeping, I buried my face in his hospital bed, wanting to cling to every inch of him.
Knowing he was broken.
Because of Joseph.
Because of me.
Because of us.
Maybe I’d been right that night when he’d admitted it all. There would be no way for us to piece us back together. No glue strong enough to hold all the frayed threads that knitted our lives.
Unable to take it a second longer, I stood and leaned over the bed, never opening my eyes as I pressed a kiss to his mouth.
Because I wondered if he was right.
If Joseph’s ghost wouldn’t haunt us forever. Destroy us bit by bit.
I ripped myself away, the most striking kind of grief stabbing me as I forced myself out of his hospital room.
Because I realized right then. My heart had never truly been torn between two men.