Dawn of Forever (Jack & Jill #3) (33 page)

He laughed.

“How’s that for love? She was smart, but insecure. All I had to do was smile and she willingly said yes to anything. She began to feel restless with the job Edgar gave her. What she didn’t understand was that no one left G.A.I.L, at least not voluntarily and not usually alive. He needed her controlled, and who better to do it than the ultimate control freak? I married her. I tamed her.”

“And then?”

“And then she found letters I wrote to Sunny, but never sent.”

“Why didn’t you send them?”

“I wrote them after she married your father. I valued my life too much to send them. Anyway, Edgar assured Irene I wasn’t having an affair. Of course she didn’t believe him, so she had me followed for months. I didn’t get anywhere near Sunny, but those letters … they wrecked Irene. Edgar insisted she be evaluated for mental stability. You know better than anyone that G.A.I.L can’t risk its members suffering from any sort of mental illness. They recommended she take an anti-depressant. She didn’t do so well on it. Her paranoia just got worse.”

“But it was justified, so it wasn’t really paranoia.”

He nodded. “But Edgar and I were the only ones who knew it.”

“So you had her committed?”

“No. Edgar wouldn’t do that. He thought we needed her. She was good at what she did. We managed her the best we could … for years. But the only thing more unpredictable—more destructive—than Irene was Sunny and Mickey. I waited seventeen years to be with the woman I’d loved my whole life. Seventeen years I watched her raise a family with another man, but never once did my love for her waver. After someone close to her saw us kissing, she decided to tell Grant about us. She told him she was going to leave him after you and Jude started college.”

“No.”

“It was true. For a breath of time … it was true. Grant and I had it out, nearly killed each other over one woman. I hated him for taking the family that should have been mine, and he hated me for taking her heart. In the end, neither of us won. You were kidnapped and on the verge of never being the same again. So she stayed for you. She chose him over me. She chose you over me. She completely broke
us
.”

Grant and Sunny Day stayed together for their daughter. Of course her mom defended Cathy’s affair. She’d had her own affair. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t sex. In some ways it would be more forgivable had it just been her body, but it wasn’t. Her mother gave her heart—her true love—to Knox, not her father. She gave Grant two children, a home, and time. Wasted time.

“You hated her.”

“I loved her.”

“You raped me after she decided to stay with him … for me. You
hated
her.”

Knox stared at the floor, or the past, or maybe into the void in his heart that used to house his soul. Jillian’s words caused him pain. She could see it. He deserved it.

The creak of the door at the top of the stairs brought them out of the past. Irene probably heard everything and was ready to add her take on the unfolding of history.

“Everyone decent?” She called from the top of the stairs, punctuating her question with a cackle. “Of course you’re not. Oh well, it’s time to welcome our prestigious guest.”

Jillian held her breath, not sure if she would ever breathe again.

“Look at me,” Knox said through gritted teeth. Gone was the scorned lover. He was all commanding. “Don’t you fucking lose it. What she’s going to do will hurt worse than anything I ever did to you. Do you understand?”

For the first time they got to see Irene’s accomplices as they escorted a new prisoner down the stairs. She didn’t recognize them. Maybe because she wasn’t looking at them.

T
heir eyes locked.
His eyelids heavy from being drugged didn’t hide the pain. She’d only seen that look once before. It was when she told him about the rape. Even the man whose superpower was masking his reaction had his breaking point, his kryptonite. Luke’s was Jessica.

“Set him there.” Irene nodded toward Knox. “It will be easier to play truth or dare if they can make eye contact. Besides, she’s been pissing herself longer, no need to subject
anyone
to that.”

Irene wanted to humiliate her. Jillian didn’t need a mirror to know that she had never looked or smelled worse. That certainty, mixed with the probability that Luke hated her for leaving him, was too much to bear. Her gaze drifted to the bow and arrows on the table. Maybe Irene would extend some godly mercy and put Jillian out of her misery.

“Feel free to chat amongst yourselves. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Creak.
Thunk.
The door closed, leaving a painful silence. Jillian never noticed it with Knox. They talked. They didn’t talk. It made no difference. Had it not been for her mom, there wouldn’t have been anything to say. But with Luke … there was everything to say.

She felt both of their gazes on her. Every second that passed without either one of them saying a word was a gift. Maybe they would both just go to sleep and maybe, just maybe, her body would surrender to death in the middle of the night.

“Jessica, look at me.” Luke made the first stab to her heart. Just the sound of his broken voice brought her one breath closer to death.

She didn’t look at Luke. Her gaze moved to Knox. Hell had officially risen to meet her. It was the only explanation for her finding courage from her enemy to look at the man who had
unequivocally
loved her.

Knox didn’t say anything, no “keep your shit together” or “don’t let her break you.” Instead, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall—a proverbial leaving the room.

“I have to know …” That voice.

She drew in a shallow breath—all her lungs would allow—then she gave him her eyes. It hurt so bad.

“Were you pregnant?”

“Luke …” she whispered, her face contorted with pain from that one forgotten detail. “How did you—”

“The receipt to the pregnancy test was in your purse. God … please just tell me.”

The downside to dying without a moment’s notice was all the unfinished details: the half-carton of milk in the refrigerator, the unclaimed dry cleaning, and the unshared pregnancy test results.

*

Day

Lake lost her
leg. A week after the accident, just like the doctor predicted, infection took over, threatening her life. It was awful, but it paled in comparison to the real concern: she’d been in a coma since the accident.

The Jones family rallied; it was all they knew. Tom and Felicity refused to leave the hospital until she came out of her coma, so their other children took turns staying in Tahoe to keep the B&Bs up and running. Luke went back to work half-days and spent the other half at the hospital. On a good day he managed to convince his parents to go back to his place for a shower and a decent meal.

Jessica did what she did best—gave of herself unconditionally. She couldn’t cook, but she could order food, deliver it, hold hands, get coffee, share hugs, and listen to their deepest fears while reassuring them that Lake would come back to them.

Both she and Luke devoted their non-working hours to his family. The almost wedding never came up, partly because it didn’t matter in the light of a life and death situation and partly because they saw little of each other. Usually one or the other would stay at the hospital to be there for his parents, who seemed to be losing hope a little more each day.

Liam and Lara came for two days and stayed at a hotel a block from the hospital. Jessica suspected Felicity made the suggestion because shortly after they arrived, his parents insisted she and Luke take a couple days for themselves.

They drove home in silence. It had become the norm. There wasn’t much to say about the unimaginable.

“I’m going to shower,” Luke said as soon as they walked through the doorway to the bedroom. His voice was filled with defeat. He paused in front of the closet where her wedding dress hung from the door. A few moments later his shoulders and head sagged as he continued to the bathroom.

She wanted to follow him.

She wanted to touch him.

She wanted to make the past week disappear, even if just for one night. But the tragic situation left her just as confused and paralyzed as everyone else—just going through the motions of life. The problem was, at the moment, she didn’t know what those motions were.

The dress. She had to get rid of the dress. Grabbing it, she took it into the spare bedroom and shoved it in the closet. When she returned, Luke was out of the shower, towel around his waist, bent over the sink brushing his teeth.

Jessica walked into the closet and slid out of her jeans then pulled off her shirt. As she reached behind to unfasten her bra, his hands met hers. She stilled, feeling the heat of his body behind her. Luke pinched the straps, unhooking her bra. His lips brushed her shoulder. Her eyes leadened from his touch. She relaxed her arms, letting her bra fall to the floor.

“Beautiful,” he whispered over her skin as his hands slid along her waist, up her ribs, stopping on her breasts.

Her breath quickened, desperate for more of his touch. It was gentle, too gentle. Covering his hands with hers, she squeezed until he followed her lead.

“Yes,” she moaned, arching her back into his touch. “Harder.” He squeezed and tugged her breasts harder. “Oh. God. Yes.” His right hand slid down her stomach, making her ragged breaths come quicker. The numbness of the previous week vanished under his touch. A pulsing pain—need—converged between her legs.

“Tell me you want me.”

Her eyes rolled back in her head as his hand slid under her panties. The pad of his finger brushed over her clitoris.

“I want you.”

“Tell me you
need
me.” He slid his finger a little further, teasing her slick entrance.

“I need you … so bad.”

Biting her shoulder, he slid his finger all the way in as she moaned.

A breath later his hand disappeared, leaving her feeling wobbly and drunk with need. She turned toward him and took his hand, guiding it to his mouth. He sucked her arousal from his finger then she pulled it from his mouth and wrapped her lips around it. His blue eyes faded to black as she sucked his finger.

With a simple tug, she pulled the towel from his waist. Pressing her palms to his bare chest, she walked forward as he retreated a step at a time until the back of his legs hit the bed. The moment she wrapped her hand around his erection, he kissed her. It wasn’t soft or patient. It was angry and laced with pain. He pulled her onto the bed and rolled on top of her. His mouth assaulted hers, and she welcomed the raw need.

The only thing she wanted her broken, shell of a man to do was control her because he needed it. She saw it in his eyes. Lake’s accident robbed everyone of their sense of control. In the midst of their fucked-up world, she could give him this even if it would be gone in the morning.

Luke pinned her wrists above her head with one hand and shoved her right knee toward her chest as he sank into her. Then he fucked her, fucked the world, fucked the unfairness of life. Amid all the anger, the physical need, and blinding emotions, he made love to her. It’s the only way he knew how to be with her—complete, unconditional, earth-shattering love. When it was over, he collapsed onto her, buried his face into her neck … and he cried.

Control never lasted. Eventually the illusion of time, the pull of gravity, and catastrophic events reminded everyone of their mortality and their utter insignificance in the great big world. Life was nothing more than one long blink. Here today. Gone tomorrow.

*

“I can’t do
this.”

Jessica opened her eyes, unable to remember when he stopped crying. Her mind shut out the rest of the world and her body became a safe harbor for Luke to let go of everything.

“What can’t you do?”

He rolled to his side, taking her with him. At some point his touch became an extension of her own flesh.

“I can’t watch her die.” His soul bled into his red eyes.

Her hands clenched his hair like his words did to her heart. “Then don’t.” She released his hair and traced the lines of his face as he closed his eyes. “Watch her live.”