“They won’t. I swear to you, Grace. They won’t.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Grace
I sink onto the couch, and Belle is immediately at my side. My legs feel more like wet noodles than actual functional limbs. Karen—the physical therapist who comes to the house every day at one p.m. sharp—says I’m getting stronger, but my muscles ache in ways I didn’t know they could.
AJ ambles in from the hall. The first time Karen came, he stayed in the room. Just sat quietly in the corner with Belle at his side and his phone in his hand. Texting with Connor, Jasper, and Parker, I think. But for the past two days, he’s retreated to his home office during our sessions. I wasn’t sure I could handle being alone with someone new, but I’ve been okay. Even though I think Karen’s secretly a sadist hiding in the form of a perky, twenty-something redhead.
Setting a glass of water on the table next to me, AJ presses a kiss to my forehead. If I weren’t so tired, maybe I could have tipped my face up so his lips would have landed on mine.
Tiny cracks in the walls around my memories are starting to let flickers and shadows emerge. The brush of his hand, a little thrill going through me at the touch. A whispered, “I love you,” that makes my belly flutter. My heart skipping a beat at the sound of his laugh when I say something I didn’t think warranted more than a smile.
I know we were happy. I know he loved the woman I used to be. I think he even loves the woman I am now. If only I knew who she was. Until I figure that out, how can I truly love him back?
I want to. I want to love this man with all my heart.
He crouches down next to me, takes my left hand, and starts kneading the fleshy part of my palm.
“Oh, God. That’s heaven. Whoever invented grip strengtheners is surely burning in hell right now.”
His easy chuckle wraps around me, warm and reassuring. We’re getting more comfortable with one another as the days pass. At night, we curl up together on the couch and watch a movie—comedies, mostly—with Belle at our feet.
In the mornings, he makes coffee and breakfast, though he’s always a little sad after I take my first sip. I wish I knew why.
“I should start dinner,” he says. “We’ve got fixin’s for enchiladas, burgers, and a veggie pasta salad. What sounds good?”
“Enchiladas. But…?”
“Extra spicy. I know, darlin’.” AJ brings my hand to his lips, and something deep in my core starts to ache.
Before I can reach for him, he heads for the kitchen, and I can only watch his ass—perfectly framed in his Wranglers—as he goes, and wonder what it would be like to kiss him.
AJ carries the dishes to the sink, and I take a swig from his bottle of Shiner. I’m not steady enough on my feet to risk more than a couple of sips, but the enchiladas were a little spicier than he intended.
“You can go pick a movie,” he offers. “Cleanin’ up shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, then I’ll make the popcorn.”
I wobble off the stool and reach for the walker. I can manage without it for short distances if I have something to grab onto—a counter, a chair…AJ—but I don’t move from room to room without it. Not yet.
Nerves tighten in my belly. “Um…I…want to see my studio.”
He stiffens and wipes his hands on a towel. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Softer now, I add, “I think I need to do it alone.”
There’s no question. No trying to talk me out of it. Just a quiet acceptance and a nod. “If you need me…”
“I know.”
The walk to the end of the hall feels so much longer than it actually is. This whole side of the house is quiet. AJ’s office is dark, the door open only a crack. The home gym, where Karen brings me for the first part of our therapy sessions, smells faintly of the lavender spray she uses—something about the fragrance helping calm my mind so my body can heal. Finally, I’m standing in front of my studio door, my legs burning.
A smear of paint mars the knob. He never wiped it away.
“I wouldn’t get rid of anything. I couldn’t. There was no world for me without you.”
His tearful confession from a few days ago hasn’t left my mind. He never gave up.
Did I?
