by Jewel E. Ann
Jackson rubbed his eyes. “You’re thirty years old and just like that you’re making the decision that you don’t want a family?”
Jillian tried to roll her eyes but it was hard to do behind heavy eyelids. “That makes no sense coming from my twin brother that doesn’t want children.”
“I never said that.”
“You said you don’t like kids.”
“Misquoting once again. I don’t like other people’s kids. My kids will be awesome.”
“Will be?”
“Yes. The whole slew of them. My wife is going to be so hot I won’t be able to keep my dick out of her. She’ll be knocked-up all the time.”
Jillian laughed. “I can’t wait to see that. My nieces and nephews … not your dick in my sister-in-law.”
“If you don’t want to see my dick then get the hell out of here.”
“Fine. Good night.” Jillian bumped into the bed stand and then the wall, trying to maneuver her drunk self out of Jackson’s room.
*
Morning didn’t care that Jillian had too much to drink the previous night. Neither did the incessant knocking at the door.
“Jackson!” she called.
Nothing.
Unaware of the time—fifteen minutes after noon—Jillian grumbled about the poor etiquette of someone knocking on the door so early. She winced at the throbbing side effect of too much Heineken as she shuffled her bare feet to the front door.
“Cage, hey.”
Cage cleared his throat, forcing his eyes to stay on hers instead of her barely covered body.
“Uh … hey. I just brought my dad home from the hospital. He wants to see you. I have to get back to campus but I’ll be back this weekend.”
“Yeah … I … um, yeah.” She nodded through her rambling of nothing that made any sense. “I’ll shower and be over.”
She started to close the door.
“Jillian?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “For what?”
“For being here and putting up with him. Even if he doesn’t say it. I know he appreciates it. But mainly for me. It eases my mind to know that someone is … looking out for him.”
“Oh … sure.” She shrugged as if it were no big deal. “How’s he doing today?”
“Fine. I think. He’s quiet. Seems a little distracted. I think the accident really shook him up, which is a little weird because he’s been in crashes, around gun fire, and even ejected from a plane that was shot down.”
Jillian frowned. Cage had confirmed her earlier suspicions that AJ wasn’t quite right. “I’ll talk to him. Drive safely back to campus.”
“Thanks. I will.”
After a long, procrastinating shower that included a review of the previous night’s declaration made under the heavy influence of alcohol, Jillian slipped on a sun dress, her red rain boots, and her best smile to mask the courage she was having difficulty mustering. She considered taking him something to eat, but decided one near-death incident that week was enough.
“AJ?” Jillian called, letting herself in his house.
“On the couch.”
She peeked around the corner to the great room. “Hey.” Her voice was unusually small. Damn nerves. “Are you drinking? Before five?”
AJ tipped back a bottle of beer. Just the sight of it caused Jillian’s stomach to roil.
“Yeah, why not?” He flipped off the TV.
She slipped off her boots and sat on the opposite end of the couch, lifting his feet up to sit and resting them back on her lap.
He nursed his beer, staring at her, but not saying anything.
“About yesterday—”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not … or I was, but I’m not now.”
“Doesn’t matter. Just forget about it.”
Jillian traced her finger along the serpent tattoo on his leg. “What if I don’t want to forget about it?”
“I don’t give a fuck what you do.”
She glanced up at him, lips parted, eyes wide. “Do you need a minute to rethink that?”
He took another pull. “Nope.”
“Would you like me to come back later?”
“You don’t need to come back at all. That’s all I wanted to tell you.”
The twenty-four hour whiplash left quite a sting. Especially since she’d prepared to reciprocate his expression of feelings. Those feelings had taken a backseat to his anger.
“Are you having a moment or is this about me leaving yesterday?”
“Don’t be so fucking condescending with me. I’m not having a moment and I told you to forget about yesterday.”
Scooting out from under his legs, she stood. “Call me if you need anything.” She didn’t even look at him as she pulled on her boots and walked to the door.
“I won’t—” His voice slurred.
She turned. “AJ!”
He was shaking and his body tumbled from the sofa with a thunk.
“Oh my God!”
A seizure racked his body, stealing him from consciousness.
Jillian grabbed his cell phone off the sofa table and dialed 9-1-1. They talked her through it and sent an ambulance. She followed it to the hospital, leaving a message on Jackson’s phone, but waited to call Cage, assuming it was most likely a side effect of his accident and the concussion.
They treated him in the ER but no one would give her any information because she wasn’t family. An hour later they let her see him.
“Why are you still here?” he said as she entered the room. His tone had lost a little edge compared to what it had been at his house. It sounded more defeated.
“Because I love you, you idiot.” It’s not how she’d planned on telling him, but it came out and she couldn’t stop it. The word didn’t feel right, but it didn’t feel wrong either. It just felt like a word.
He closed his eyes and turned his head side to side. “Don’t.”
She sat on the edge of his bed. “I shouldn’t have left yesterday and I’m sorry. What you said scared me. I don’t feel worthy of that kind of love and—”
“Stop … just stop.” He opened his eyes. “I meant it when I said it doesn’t matter.”
“What doesn’t matter?” Jillian’s voice escalated. “Me? Us? Your love for me? Mine for you?”
“All of it,” he said in a deathly monotone voice.
“It mattered yesterday. You said—”
“You didn’t let me finish!”
Jillian jumped.
AJ sighed. “You didn’t let me finish yesterday. You left too soon.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I needed you to know that I love you, but then I was going to tell you that I can’t be with you anymore.”
“Yeah, that makes perfectly no sense whatsoever. You need help. I know you don’t want to talk about the PTSD, but it’s eating you up inside. You may not think anyone can help you, but maybe you just need another opinion.” She refused to back down, refused to be kicked to the curb like an old sofa up for grabs. He could be harsh and hurtful but she could deal with it.
“Goodbye, Jillian.” He looked away.
“I’m not leaving, you stubborn SOB.” She grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. He was it—her last chance at love and she was determined to take it. Her past had taken too much already. It wasn’t deserving of him too. He was her future—a future she would fight for.
“Is this a bad time?”
Jillian turned.
A doctor in a white lab coat stood at the door.
“No … sorry, come in.” She smiled past her anger and released AJ’s face as if she hadn’t just manhandled a patient.
He nodded, walking toward them. “I’m Dr. Rinehart, the oncologist.”
Every last bit of air evaporated from the room. Jillian couldn’t find a single breath.
“Hi, Doctor. This is my friend, J
illian.”
Jillian looked at AJ, not Dr. Rinehart. “W-why do you need an oncologist.”
“Tell her, Doc. Why do I need you?”
Dr. Rinehart gave Jillian a regretful smile. “AJ has a brain tumor. It was discovered on his MRI after his accident yesterday.”
The air. Where was all the fucking air? The migraines, the personality that flipped without warning, the PTSD pigeonholing for everything … how could everyone have missed it?
“Cancer?” she whispered.
“We’re not sure,” Dr. Rinehart replied.
“When will you know?”
Dr. Rinehart looked at AJ.
“When I’m dead and an autopsy is done to confirm it.”
Jillian turned, glaring at AJ. It wasn’t the time to be mad at him but she was. How could he say that? Why would he say that?
“You’re not dying!” She looked to Dr. Rinehart for confirmation.
“I’ve consulted with the neurologist that saw AJ yesterday. The tumor may be inoperable.”
“But … you can do radiation or chemotherapy or something else, right?”
“Yes, there are other options.”
“But the neurologist confessed that the success rate is lower with tumors like mine. And I’m sure as hell not going to be a guinea pig, so—”
“So what?” Jillian snapped at AJ. “You’re just going to do nothing? Wait until your headaches get even worse? Wait until you’re having seizures every day? Wait until you—” The pain in her chest was too familiar. She didn’t notice the tears streaming down her cheeks until she tasted their salty presence.
“Die?” AJ grabbed her hand and squeezed it so hard the pain in her chest exploded into something irreversibly destructive. “Yes, Jillian. I’m going to die.”
Also by Jewel E. Ann
Holding You Series
HOLDING YOU
RELEASING ME
Standalone Novels
IDLE BLOOM
ONLY TRICK
UNDENIABLY YOU
Look for the second book in the Jack & Jill Series, Middle of Knight, coming November 2015.
jeweleann.com
About the Author
Jewel is a free-spirited romance junkie with a quirky sense of humor.
With 10 years of flossing lectures under her belt, she took early retirement from her dental hygiene career to stay home with her three awesome boys and manage the family business.
After her best friend of nearly 30 years suggested a few books from the Contemporary Romance genre, Jewel was hooked. Devouring two and three books a week but still craving more, she decided to practice sustainable reading, AKA writing.
When she’s not donning her cape and saving the planet one tree at a time, she enjoys yoga with friends, good food with family, rock climbing with her kids, watching How I Met Your Mother reruns, and of course…heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, panty-scorching novels.