Grace is crying now too. Her tears fall onto my back, tiny tremors shaking her too-thin frame.
I should comfort her. Pull myself the fuck together and be the man she needs me to be. But I don’t know how.
Or how to stop myself from telling her that every week, I’d stand at the start of the trail, staring at my own shadow and wondering if the world would be better off without it.
“Belle needed me,” I say, my voice cracking on the truth I’ve never admitted to anyone. “Without her?—”
“Don’t.” Grace’s hand cups the back of my neck, squeezing lightly. “Don’t tell me you didn’t fight for yourself, AJ. You did. You brought me home.”
The last word escapes as a whisper. Or maybe…as a prayer.
The water on the floor has gone cold, soaking through my jeans. Hell, the water in the tub is cooling where my elbows have broken through the bubbles.
“I’m afraid if I let go, you’ll disappear again.”
“Then don’t let go,” she murmurs, lips curving against my temple. “Not yet.”
We stay locked together long enough for the water on the floor to lose its chill completely. Long enough for my heartbeat to match the steady rhythm of hers. I don’t know if I’m holding her or she’s holding me. And it doesn’t matter, as long as we’re together.
Chapter Thirty
AJ
I shouldn’t have been so fucking honest. Or perhaps I needed to admit the truth to the person I trust most in this world. Only Grace could watch me fall apart and then put me back together with a single embrace.
Even without her memories, she’s still the woman I fell in love with. Still my best friend. Still my everything.
Now, she clutches my arm as we stand in the closet. “There’s too much,” she says softly. “I should know what I want to wear. Shouldn’t I?”
The pain in her voice stabs me through the heart. She’s still so unsure. So lost, despite being right next to me.
“Maybe it’s not about knowing,” I offer. “Maybe it’s about feeling. What feels right?”
Her left hand shakes as she touches first one sweater, then another, and another before settling on a purple cashmere tunic and the jeans I always thought were her favorite.
We sit on the bed together, and I draw the bathrobe off her shoulders so I can help her with her bra. Every time I see the jagged scars across her back, I want to throttle the fucker who gave them to her.
Fastening the clasp, my fingers brush right over the worst of them, and Grace shudders.
“Are they…ugly?” she asks, her voice so small, it almost fades away on the last word.
“They’re a part of you, Grace. And you’re beautiful.” I press a kiss to the top of her shoulder where another one of them ends.
The tiny sound she makes might be a chuckle. “I’m not sure I can trust you anymore, AJ. When was the last time you had an eye exam?”
“Last month. Twenty-twenty all the way, darlin’. You need help with the rest?”
My phone lights up on the nightstand, Connor’s name flashing across the screen.
Grace passes it to me. “Go ahead. I should be okay until I get to the shoes.”
“Connor? Tell me you’ve got somethin’.” I tuck the phone between my shoulder and my ear, striding out to the kitchen so I can fill Belle’s water bowl.
“Nothin’ concrete. Austin’s fiancée, Mikayla—she’s the botanist I told you about—says the flowers are oleanders.”
“Oleanders?” My back hits the countertop. What are the odds…? “Grace has a tattoo of oleander flowers on her right arm. Along with the phases of the moon.”
“You think there’s a connection? They grow all over the goddamn state. Hell, they’re native to Texas, California, Nevada, Arizona, Mexico, half of Central America… Maybe whoever wove them into the ropes did it because of the tattoo. If she meant somethin’ to them, could have even been out of respect.”
