“Are you fucking kidding me?” Parker snaps. “Let me guess. She’s too fragile? You don’t want to cause her any pain?”
“Somethin’ like that,” I mutter.
I’ve never seen Parker this mad. Her steely gray stare bores right through me. Thank fuck she’s still at home or Chief Harris and I might be sportin’ twin bruises.
“Let me guess. You haven’t told Grace about the oleander connection either.” Her eyes roll skyward at my silence. “Dammit, AJ. You’re the walking embodiment of every bad decision a man can make in the name of ‘protecting’ a woman. She ain’t a porcelain doll. Stop treating her like one.”
Her words cut deep, and shame crawls up the back of my neck. “She’s been through so much?—”
“Exactly,” Parker says, the fire in her voice cooling by degrees. “And she survived. Hell, she’s done a fair bit more than that. Did you know she joined our group chat on Saturday night?”
I give Parker the side-eye. “What group chat?”
“Men,” she mutters. “The one with Emi, Isabel, and me. When Emi set up Grace’s phone, she added her. Your wife is a hell of a lot stronger than you’re giving her credit for. And she’s gettin’ a little more of herself back every day.”
Fuck.
Dropping my head into my hands with a groan, I wonder when I became such a goddamn hypocrite. For all my talk about how strong Grace is, I’ve been the weak one. Terrified of pushing too hard. Of breaking her when she’s only just put herself back together.
“Scared don’t mean broken.”
“Aaron,” Jasper says softly. “Grace does need protectin’. Just not from herself.”
I drag in a breath, steadying my voice. “You’re right.” The admission is bitter on my tongue. But it’s necessary. “I’ll tell her. Before the press conference. If she remembers anything else, I’ll let all y’all know.”
The call ends, and the silence in my office is deafening. Through the wall, I catch Grace’s soft laugh, the sound light. Happy. At peace.
I hope what I have to do next doesn’t shatter that peace into dust.
Chapter Forty-Four
Grace
I stop halfway down the hall, breathing through a sudden sharp stab of pain in my temple. My legs feel like rubber bands stretched too tight, and every step from the front door—where I said goodbye to Karen—to here has been a battle.
“Your brain is rewiring itself, Grace. That ain’t an easy thing to do. Give it time.”
While I know Karen’s right, I want to be able to trust my own body again. In the early hours of the morning, I dreamed of running. The sun kissing my skin, the breeze cooling my cheeks. Running is—was—freedom and joy and strength.
But I think it was also something I did just for me. Now what do I have? Drawing only brings up dark images I don’t understand. Cooking? AJ says I never much cared for it. And even if I wanted to try it—see if I like it as part of my new life—my body isn’t up to it yet. There’s an old guitar in AJ’s office. I almost laugh. Like my fingers would cooperate enough for that.
What do I have that’s mine?
I need a minute before I take another step, so I lean against the wall, pull out my phone, and launch the group chat.
Grace: Do you think if I asked him to, AJ would arrest Karen’s stash of clothespins? I’m pretty sure they’re trying to kill me.
Three dots trail across the bottom of the screen next to Parker’s photo. But they vanish a second later.
Did I go too far? Joking about inanimate objects trying to kill me less than two weeks after I was poisoned, stabbed, and left for dead in the middle of nowhere?
The bubbles come back, then stop again. And again.
Yep. I went too far.
Shit.
My eyes prick with tears. The group chat was mine. Or…I thought it could be. Mine and Parker’s and Emi’s and Isabel’s. Emi’s probably busy preparing for the news conference. Isabel’s at work. But still…
