Page 86 of The Broken Keys

The beach house is exactly as it was the last time we were here together. White walls catch the afternoon sunlight and reflect it back toward the ocean. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame an endless stretch of Pacific that stretches toward the horizon.

The bedroom upstairs holds memories of lazy Sunday mornings when we pretended we had forever instead of stolen time. I meander through the rooms and let the memories wash over me without resistance. They pour into my soul.

She laughs in the kitchen while attempting to make breakfast and setting off the smoke alarm. She curls up on the balcony at sunrise with coffee in her hands, watching the waves and looking more peaceful than I ever saw her in Paris.

I picture her in my arms in our bed, whispering things that drove us both insane and made us lose ourselves in each other. One specific afternoon rises to the surface of my thoughts with perfect clarity. I allow myself to be immersed in it.

Rain traps us inside, and we spend hours tangled in the sheets, talking about everything and nothing important. She traces the lines of my face with her fingertips like she was memorizing a map she might never see again.

“What are you thinking about?” I take her hand to press a kiss on it.

“That I could do this forever.” She smiles, but something melancholy lingers behind her eyes. “If the world would actually let us.”

“Then we won’t let the world in.”

“You can’t keep it out forever, Jax. Eventually reality finds its way through all the cracks we try to seal.”

She was right, of course. I tried anyway. I built higher walls around us and created more distance between her and the dangerous parts of my life.

Protecting her meant keeping her separate, rather than bringing her fully into my life and teaching her how to navigate the shadows chasing me. At least that’s what I convinced myself I was doing.

Now I stand in the same bedroom, staring at the bed where we last made love. I finally understand what I should’ve known back then. I don’t want to keep anything out anymore.

She’s a part of me and I want to build a future with her in it. One where she knows every truth about me, and still chooses to stay.

I check my phone. She still hasn’t responded to tell me she’s coming. Maybe she didn’t get my message.

I send another text.

Me:I’m at the house. When do you think you’ll be here?

The message shows it’s been delivered, but no response appears. A knot forms in my stomach. She said she wanted to talk. She said she needed to explain things about Cash, so where is she?

A bolt of adrenaline zaps my insides. This isn’t like her at all. Even when she’s angry with me, she responds to messages.

She doesn’t just disappear into silence without explanation. She tells me when she needs time and space to get her thoughts together. But I don’t think that’s what this is. She said she wanted to talk.

I pace the living room. Every instinct I’ve honed over the years is screaming that something is very wrong.

These are the same survival mechanisms that kept me alive when I was fourteen and running from my so-called uncle, who was really an operative hunting my family. I’velearned to trust these instincts because ignoring them gets people killed.

My phone buzzes in my hand. It’s not her.

I open the message and an iron-like heaviness floods through my chest. I already know it’s going to be bad before I even read the words on the screen.

Blocked Number:The subject was in a terrible car accident. Trying to find out which hospital they took her to. Stand by.

Chapter Eighteen

CALLUM/CASH

Now

Colliding Towers & Sharp Realities

Sometimes the truth doesn’t wait for you to be ready.

I’ve been standing at this hospital reception desk for what seems like five minutes, and I’m about to lose my mind.