Steam curls between us, and I lose myself in the ritual—the familiar comfort of sharing my coffee with him—before I find the courage to speak again.
“I think I know when it happened. When the piece of bone…when it broke off.”
His jaw tenses, teeth grinding together for a beat. “When?”
I force myself to meet his eyes. “The night the chief came. I fell, and…I think my head hit the floor.”
He slams his coffee cup down on the counter, and the handle snaps off in his hand. “Christ, Grace. That was two weeks ago! Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”
His sudden anger, along with the complete destruction of his favorite mug, is so unlike him, it takes me a moment to muster enough composure to reply. But after a breath, my own frustration rises to the surface.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I was busy having a panic attack? Then we had to figure out how to keep me from being dragged in front of the cameras, or into an interrogation room before I was ready?”
My voice rises higher and sharper than I intend, but a part of me doesn’t care. “You picked me up off the floor, AJ. I remember that. Do you?
“I also remember your brother and Emi were here. Connor. Parker. Then Nate showed up.
“I could barely find my voice in front of Jasper, let alone a man I’d never met before! What did you expect me to do? Wave my hands in the middle of all that and say, ‘I’ve got a little bit of a headache’?”
AJ stares at me, eyes blazing, knuckles white around the broken handle of the mug. “But it wasn’t just a headache, was it? The tremor in your hand on Monday night? The dizziness last week? The vertigo?”
I’d roll my eyes if they weren’t so dry and swollen from crying myself to sleep. “I’ve had those symptoms since I woke up in the clinic in Mexico. Was there some magical way I was supposed to be able to tell what was new and what was just…normal for me now? I wasn’t hiding things from you, AJ. I didn’t know. Not for sure.”
He finally lets go of the broken piece of the mug, spreading his palms flat on the counter and blowing out a breath. “You still should have said something the second you suspected you were getting worse.”
“Worse? AJ, look at me.” He doesn’t, and I take a step closer. “Really look at me. Please.”
He lifts his head, and the raw anguish in his eyes hits me harder than a punch.
“I’m standing. On my own. I made it in here from the bedroom on my own. I’ve started to remember something new almost every day. I can leave the house now. I managed ten clothespins yesterday and put on my own damn bra. What part of that says ‘worse’ to you?”
His mouth opens, then shuts again. After a beat, he looks me square in the eyes. “The part where you faint in a parking lot.”
I cross my arms tight over my chest, trying to hold myself together. “Is that what you think happened? I didn’t faint. I had a panic attack. Because some asshole who must be connected to the men who took me left a bouquet of oleanders on Connor’s truck. Because I remembered some of what they did to me that last day. But you never even asked me about that.”
He jerks back like I just shoved him. Dragging his hands over his face, he shudders, and all the fight bleeds out of him in seconds. “Fuck. You’re right, Grace. I should’ve asked. It guts me every goddamn time you remember even a fraction of the hell you went through. But that’s on me. You’re the one who survived it. Who’s still survivin’ it. You’ve had the weight of the fuckin’ world on your shoulders since you came back, and all I’ve done this mornin’ is add to it.”
I drop my arms, my anger fading into something softer. “AJ, the only reason I’ve been brave enough to remember…is you. Because I know you love me. That you’ll keep loving me no matter what they did to me.”
He swallows hard, staring at me like I’ve just given him the whole damn world.
Taking one final step, I wrap my arms around him and tuck my head under his chin, pressing my cheek to his chest so I can hear the steady beat of his heart. “I love you, Aaron. I’ll love you for the rest of my life. But those oleanders…” I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears threatening to spill over. “Someone followed us to that art store. Watched us. Got past Connor and Jasper to send me a message. They ain’t done with me. And that scares me more than anything.”
Not long after I finish my coffee—and AJ has gotten a fresh mug for himself—a nurse shows up with a portable ultrasound machine. It takes her all of ninety seconds to declare my intracranial pressure “within normal limits” and remind us she’ll be back at six to check again.
“I got the names from VanHorn,” AJ says, leaning against the door of my studio while I stare at a blank page, pencil in hand. “The neurosurgeons she recommended. Zephyr vetted them for me. Dr. Ellicott out of Chicago has the best rep. VanHorn says she can work it out so he can do the surgery here. At Austin Memorial. But he’s only available this Saturday.”
The tip of my pencil wobbles over the paper. A faint gray dot turns into a messy line, the start of something I have no idea how to finish.
“It’s so…soon.” My voice is steadier than I expect, but when my hands start to shake, I drop the pencil and press them against my thighs. I can’t look at AJ. I don’t want him to see how scared I am. “What if…what if I wake up and everything’s…gone?”
“Grace…”
“I know I can’t put it off forever. But he—this Prophet—won’t stop until he’s killed me.” I finally turn, and the look on my husband’s face would reassure me if not for those damn flowers. “If I lose the few memories I have, I can’t protect myself.”
AJ pushes off the door frame, closing the distance between us in three strides. His hand curls around the back of my neck, steady and sure.
“You ain’t losin’ shit, Grace. Not as long as you let them cut that thing out of you. And this Prophet sure as hell ain’t gonna get his hands on you again. I’ll burn this whole goddamn city to the ground before I let that happen. Jasper, Connor, Parker, Nate—hell, I’ll even take Marvin’s help if I have to—will be standin’ guard the whole damn time. During the surgery. For as long as you have to stay in the hospital. And when you come home again. You will be protected. Period. End of story. You hear me?”
