His eyes meet mine with such seriousness, I hold my breath until he speaks again.
“And you’re my everything. He had no right. And he knows it.”
Heat flushes over my skin. Not from the water, but from somewhere deep inside me. He loved me enough to choose me over his own brother. To hold out hope for three years that one day, I’d come home.
“You never moved on,” I say softly.
“No.”
A long silence stretches between us. If I had the words, I’d tell him how much I want to remember. How much I need to remember a love strong enough to bring us back together again. But they’re lost somewhere, and I don’t know how to find them.
Eventually, I lean forward and pass him the washcloth. “Do my back?”
AJ hesitates, staring at the cloth like it might burn him. But then he takes it, his fingers brushing mine. “I ran the trail every Saturday with Belle,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “Where you disappeared. I thought maybe… Fuck. I don’t know what I thought—especially the last few weeks. That I missed something the hundred and forty other times? That whoever took you would be stupid enough to come back? That God would drop a clue at my feet if I showed up enough. Prayed enough.”
I blink hard. “AJ…”
He shakes his head, then trails the cloth over my shoulders. “It was all I had.”
“What about friends?” I ask gently. “Connor? Parker?”
“I’ve only known Connor for a couple of months. Parker…I trained her, sure. She helped me track down the few leads we got after APD declared…you…a cold case. But we never got together outside of work.”
He finally glances up, meeting my gaze. “You were the center of my life, Grace. Without you, everything just…stopped. The apartment was for sleep and work. The house was for grief. And so Belle could chase tennis balls—when I could muster the energy to throw them. All your clothes? Your studio? Hell, your hair clips and eye cream. I wouldn’t get rid of anything. I couldn’t. There was no world for me without you.”
My voice fails me for too long, but when he dips the cloth into the water and runs it down my spine, I ask, “Why didn’t you give up?”
He doesn’t look away. “I wish I could say it was because I knew you were alive. Because I felt it. But…really…I’m only still here because of Belle.”
Oh, God.
The dog lets out a soft whine from the hall, echoing AJ’s pain. I reach for him, sloshing a little water over the edge of the tub as I wrap an arm around his shoulders.
He doesn’t speak. But with one single sob, he shatters into pieces.
AJ
Fuck.
Fuck!
I try to hold myself together. Grace is still so fragile. I’m supposed to be the strong one. The one who keeps her safe.
But I fail. Again.
Another sob rips through me, jagged and loud, echoing off the tile. Grace pulls me closer, bathwater spilling over the edge of the tub and soaking my Wranglers.
I should care. I should grab a towel. I should do anything but sit here shaking like a rookie in his first firefight.
Her skin is so warm beneath my cheek. Her fingers move through my hair in slow, shaky strokes, and for the first time in three years, I don’t feel like I’m drifting—untethered—through a storm.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp, though I’m not sure which failure I’m apologizing for. Losing her? Not finding her sooner? Almost giving up? Maybe all of it.
She shakes her head softly. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Don’t say that,” I whisper. “You have no idea how many times I—” My throat closes, the words bottling up like they’re scared to see daylight. I force them out anyway. “How many times I sat in the dirt—right where I found your water bottle—and tried to convince myself you were gone so my heart wouldn’t tear itself in half with every beat.”
Her breath hitches, but her arms stay locked around me. “You’re here. I’m here. Nothing else matters.”
