He was a good guy who didn’t deserve cheapened death by his own hand. Me? I wasn’t so sure.
Cameron’s face flashed across my memory, and guilt settled into my core. My heart couldn’t take any more conflict. Emotions bubbled up, and I swallowed hard. I wasn’t ready to break down. Not here, not now. I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath.
If I was dead, Pat would be, too.
The acknowledgement became an instant lifeline. A shred of hope maybe—just maybe—I could cling to.
He tipped up my chin to look straight into my eyes. He whispered, inches from my face. “Thank you for saving my life, Jules.”
My frantic blinking didn’t hold the tears back. My shoulders shook once then twice. As I turned onto my back to escape his gaze, his arms caught me around my torso and pulled me into his side.
My head settled on his shoulder, and I clutched at his shirt. Our bodies fused together, side by side, under the morning’s first light. My chest heaved against him as I tried to deep-breathe through the emotional onslaught. I didn’t deserve to be here. I didn’t deserve him. I was no hero. My track record was all cowardice. I wasn’t even brave enough to tell the truth. I buried it.
As if he sensed my turmoil, his arms tightened around me, and he lifted his hand to the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair. I may not deserve him, but man, oh man, did I want him. He leaned toward the top of my head, and his chest expanded. I smiled when I realized he was smelling me. I took a deep breath of him, too. His scent was all man. Woody and spicy.
The sound of his heartswooshedunder my ear. The sound of his life. I stopped breathing for a couple seconds, allowing the gentle beating to wash over my spirit. Heat spread through my body, and I squeezed him tighter.
My scalp tingled as he continued playing with my hair. “You’re safe right here, Jules.” His other hand tickled the length of my arm across his chest. Goosebumps popped up, and he rubbed them. “I hope you know that.”
I nodded.
A little later the sun had broken out over the horizon. Shades of pink and orange painted rays across the sky in a majestic, heavenly array. I tilted my head to look up at Pat.
Like his dad, the beauty moved him.
TWENTY-FOUR
Patrick
The phone vibrated in my pocket. Shaye was returning my call.
“Hi, Shaye.”
“Oh, Patrick, I’m sorry I missed your call. Gracious, it did me so much good to hear your voicemail. I’ve been worried sick about you.” The tremble in her voice was apparent, even over the phone.
“I’m sorry it took me a while to reach out. It—was a tough couple weeks, I’ll put it that way.”
“No, no. That’s fine. I know you had a lot to process.”
“A bit.”
She sniffed. “How are you doing now?”
“Better.” Telling the gentle woman too much would be detrimental to her wellbeing. “I’m trying to let go.”
“It’s so hard, child, I know.”
Her sensitivity spoke volumes about her character. Gracie died so many years ago, yet she tenderly discussed it for my sake. “Doing my best to move forward.”
“Well, if I know anything about Tracy, it’s that she’d want you to be happy.”
A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, I know.”
“She told me how you wanted to open your own garage and have a family and some land. She said if anyone deserved all those things, it was you.”
Those dreams had always included Gracie. Now, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. An image of Julia’s head on my chest the morning before flashed across my memory. I rubbed my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Yeah, that still sounds pretty nice. Feels like so many years of my life have been wasted.”
“You did what you did for Tracy out of love.” Her voice wobbled again. “Love is never wasted.”
