Captured Love (26 page)

Why then was I hurting as if my heart had broken all over again?

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***

Not sure what I was doing, I changed my PJs for jeans, a tee, and flats, grabbed my phone and my purse, and exited the house.

Thankfully, the truck was still in the driveway. It would be easier to leave without waking Mama or Jason, without needing to open the garage door. Not that I was trying to sneak out, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk.

Jason had come home late at night and let me have it.

“I can’t believe you were messing around with him,” he barked. “Didn’t he tell you what happened? This will send him spiraling out of control again!” I shook my head, tears brimming in my eyes. “That wasn’t my intention.” 447/504

“If he does something, anything that results in him going back to jail, or even an extension of his parole, I swear, I’ll …” He pressed his lips together and clenched his fists. “I’ll never talk to you again.” After his onslaught, Jason told me Ethan was with Ryan now. Then he shut up and shut me out.

In the silent night, I drove to the hospital. I knew it wasn’t exactly visiting hours, and I was ready to argue about it, but the nurse in charge recognized me and let me in without any explanation.

Carefully, I entered my papa’s room and, in the dark, sat in the chair beside his bed. He looked thinner and frailer every day, and the monitors beeping beside his bed sounded a little slower than before. An IV

dripped heavy painkillers directly into his bloodstream.

It was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that he was dying, that in a few 448/504

months or weeks, he wouldn’t be here anymore, that he wouldn’t be around. As much as I hated the fallout between us, he was still my father, and I didn’t want him to die.

I ran my fingers over the pale skin of his arm and rested my hand on his.

I had to get over the fact that he might never forgive me for—

“Jessica?” Papa asked, his voice just above a whisper.

I pulled back my hand and sat straighter. “Yes, Papa, it’s me.”

He glanced at the window. The drapes were closed, but a tiny crack let the moonlight seeped through.

“What time is it?” He pressed the button on the bed’s control and the mattress folded, sitting him up a little.

“Some time past 3:30 a.m., I think.” He turned his eyes to me. “What are you doing here?”

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“I … I couldn’t sleep, and I don’t know, I just drove here.” I sighed. I was leaving in a week, and finally, he was awake. It was now or never. “Papa, I know sometimes we don’t see eye to eye, but—”

“Ryan came to visit me the other day.” I stilled. “W-what?”

“At first, I asked him to leave, called the nurses, but then he said you saved him. He said I had to know how. The nurses came to the room to take him out, but I told him to stay. I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted to hear him.”

“What did he say?”

“That you’re an amazing young woman, even more than when you were sixteen.” His voice was weak, but he didn’t stop. “He told me that you stayed by his side while he was working on his motorcycle, and even though you two didn’t talk, your presence was enough to calm him down. He told me about when the storm destroyed the Habitat for 450/504

Humanity site, and you called in a bunch of people and organized everything to have them help rebuild the homes. Because of that help, the time to fix all the damage was cut to less than half. He also told me you took him to see the guy he injured in the accident, that he’s practically one hundred percent, as if he had never been a paraplegic.” He paused for a long breath. “And Ryan told me that you called John and that you may have gotten him into the circuit again. He said that even though he had hurt you, you had taken the high road and helped him through his problem. That those were characteristics of a decent, kind girl.” One corner of his lips curved up. “I confess it was a nice surprise, to hear how grown-up and kind my daughter became.”

My eyes teared. “Papa …”

“When I remember that day, anger swarms me, but it isn’t only because of what you did, or what Ryan did to you. After a 451/504

while, that anger grew and turned toward myself. I hated myself for exploding that way, in front of all those people, for slapping you. I’m not sure I would do anything differently, if I could go back in time, because of the way I am, but I do regret it.” He reached over and took my hand. I could feel him trying to squeeze my fingers, but his grip was too light. “I’m sorry, Jessica. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have acted that way, and I should have gone after you when you left and brought you home. Home with your family, who loves you no matter what.” A tear rolled down my cheek. “I’m sorry too, Papa.”

“It’s okay.” He took another long breath. “I just want you to know I love you and I’m proud of you.”

I stifled a sob. “I love you too.” He patted my hand and withdrew his arm. “Home with family,” he repeated, closing his eyes.

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“Papa?” I asked, worrying about his condition. He didn’t answer, but I could see the slow up and down of his chest and the steady beeping of his heart monitor.

Well, I knew he was sleeping a lot, but still, his outburst had surprised me. I hadn’t expected him to wake up, let alone give me a long speech.

I sank in the chair as a couple of tears fell.

The fact that Ryan had come here and talked to Papa about me boggled my mind.

Why would he do that? Did he think he had to repay me for the things I did for him? I had told him it wasn’t out of pity, and it certainly wasn’t because I wanted something in return. I had acted the way I thought was right, the way it made me feel better. Still, I was glad he had come and practically defended my honor. If it wasn’t for his visit, my father might still not have forgiven me, and I 453/504

wouldn’t feel like a boulder had been lifted from my chest.

I took a deep breath. It was nice, this light, free feeling. The only thing that could make this moment better was if a doctor walked in and told me Papa was miracu-lously cured.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ryan

I wrapped my tie around my neck and stood in front of the mirror. Black suit, black tie, black shoes, and a white shirt. I didn’t remember the last time I had worn one of these.

I was working at Habitat for Humanity last evening when Luke called me to let me know.

“Paul died this afternoon,” he said.

Pain cut through my chest, not for the man I barely knew, but for his daughter, for his son, and for his wife. I called Jason right away. He answered, but said no more than two or three words. I almost went over to their house last night, but Luke assured me they needed some time on their own.

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Finally, I got the tie knot right and closed my suit jacket as a rap came from the door.

“Come in,” I yelled.

Ethan opened the door. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” I grabbed my phone and wallet from the kitchen counter and headed to the door with him.

We didn’t speak much as I drove us to the church. The place was packed. Probably the whole town had come to pay their respects to the man who slapped his daughter in public and made her run away. I shook that thought from my head. Yes, I had hated the man, but he was still Jason’s and Jessica’s father, and the fact that sweet, kind Corinne

loved

him

must

count

for

something.

It took a long time, but we reached the front of the church, where the family was gathered. Seated between her children, 456/504

Corinne looked dazed, as if she had taken something strong to calm her down. Acting like a macho, Jason fought the tears in his eyes, and Jessica clutched her mother’s hand, her glassy eyes fixed on the coffin. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and her skin was pale. It was obvious she hadn’t slept the previous night. The three of them probably didn’t.

Ethan and I halted in front of them.

Jason stood and we hugged. I patted his back and he patted mine.

“I’m so sorry, man,” I whispered.

He nodded, before stepping back and turning to Ethan. I thought I would pay my respects to Corinne next, but Jessica stood instead.

“She’s out of it,” she said, her voice low.

For half a second, I considered shaking her hand, but then I saw the sad glint in her eyes and lost it. I wound my arm around her waist and pulled her to me. Her arms 457/504

knotted around my neck as she rested her face on my shoulder. I ran a hand up and down her back as she cried.

“I’m sorry, Jess,” I whispered. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

She stepped back and wiped her tears.

“Thank you.” She kissed my cheek, her soft lips lingering on my skin, and the urge to pull her to me again was almost too hard to contain. I wanted to console her, to support her, to stand there and hold her—if she would allow me.

Then she turned to Ethan and hugged him.

I couldn’t help but notice her arms went loosely around his shoulders, and that she didn’t bury her head in his shoulder or cry.

She also didn’t kiss his cheek.

Ethan nudged me and I finally moved.

Walking down the side aisle to the back, we saw Luke, Lindsey, and their mother. My 458/504

sister, Brianna, was with Lindsey. A few pews back, we saw Sophie and Rachel.

Ethan and I found a spot in the back as the ceremony began. I hated these things.

They were too gloomy, too sad. And it was so much worse when Jason stood and went to the front to talk about his father. His voice broke several times. I thought maybe Jessica would speak too, but she didn’t. Neither did Corinne. Understandable in her state. A few more people spoke—work colleagues, cousins, and friends.

After the ceremony, we all walked the grounds where the reverend spoke a few more words before lowering the coffin into the ground. That was when Corinne broke down and Jason had to take her in his arms.

Jessica looked worried about her mother, but Rachel and Sophie were beside her, holding her up.

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If it depended on me, the day would be done, but no. Close friends and family moved from the cemetery to the Hayeses’ house.

When Ethan and I arrived, Corinne was on the couch being checked by a doctor, and Jessica was seated at her mother’s side, talking to the doctor. Across the room, Jason had a glass of whiskey in his hand.

Cadence, Luke’s mother, ran around the living room, making sure everyone was okay, and Lindsey helped her.

I felt like I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I never liked Paul, not after he hit Jessica in front of half of the town. He didn’t deserve my respect, but I wasn’t here for him. I was here for my best friend and for his sister—the girl I loved.

Loved.

That realization hit me hard in the chest, and I gasped. It was ridiculous really, because the feeling had been there all the time. It only intensified when she came back 460/504

and then even more when she started spending time with me. And the other night … I blew out a breath and ran a hand through my hair. Shit, I loved her. With all my heart and soul. And this time, I needed her to know that.

Maybe now wasn’t the right time to talk to her about us, but I could at least be by her side, like a strong pillar, to support and care for her.

Leaning against a wall outside the kitchen, I had a good view of the entire first floor, but I didn’t see her anywhere.

“Take this to Jessica,” Cadence said in the kitchen, handing a small tray with a teacup and a plate of cookies to Lindsey. “She hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon as far as I know.”

Carrying the tray, Lindsey exited the kitchen and scanned the living room, looking for her cousin.

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Lindsey started walking toward the stairs, but I stepped in her way. “I can take this to Jessica.”

She stared at me with wide eyes, but didn’t protest as I took the tray from her and climbed the stairs. Jessica’s bedroom door was closed. I knocked once. Twice.

“Jess?”

No answer.

Slowly, just in case she was sleeping, I opened the door. Jessica was seated on her bed, her back against the headboard and her knees drawn to her chest. Her face was tilted to the open window.

I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. I looked around. Being inside her room again was surreal. It was exactly as I remembered, except for the lack of pictures. She had loved photos. They had been spread everywhere.

“What happened to the pictures?” I asked, approaching the bed.

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She winced. “Let’s say I had a traumatic experience with pictures almost four years ago,” she said, her voice detached.

I placed the tray on her nightstand.

“Your aunt sent this. She said you haven’t eaten since yesterday.” Jessica shrugged. I sat beside her, picked up the plate of cookies, and put it right under her nose. “You have to eat, Jess.”

She pushed the plate away. “I can’t.

Nothing goes down. When I try to force it, it makes me sick.”

“Then the tea.”

She turned her face and finally looked at me. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying again. “What’s with the Care 101?” My turn to shrug. “That’s just it. I care.

That simple.” I picked up the teacup and offered it to her.

She wrinkled her nose, but lowered her legs and took the cup from me. “Thanks.” 463/504

“You’re welcome.” I watched as she blew on the cup before taking a sip. Then she took one more. And another. I hoped that she would reach for the cookies soon. “How are you? I mean, I know the question is rather stupid, but seriously, how are you?” She stared at the cup. “I’m … relieved that Papa and I were able to talk and come to an understanding before he died.” She lifted her eyes to mine. “I guess I have you to thank for that. He told me you visited him and talked to him. So … thank you.”

“He had to know how wonderful his daughter had become. It was the least I could do.”

Her pale cheeks gained a faint red tint.