One Day His (The Someday Series Book 2)

by Shawn, Melanie

  I kept hearing the voice of Natalya, his ex-girlfriend, as she had told me not so long ago that Jace had contemplated suicide in his darker moments. His terrible experiences while growing up in foster care coupled with the combat he had seen overseas—which I hadn’t known the specifics of until tonight, but which I had been aware existed—had left him with an awful case of PTSD. I had tried on multiple occasions to get him to open up to me about it—about both what had happened in his past and how it affected him now—but he hadn’t ever wanted to talk about it. It was possible that he was ashamed or it was painful. Either way, I hadn’t wanted to push things.

  Now, I really wished that I had. I wished that I had kept asking questions, that I had prodded and pressed until I’d gotten him to let me in on where his head, actually, was. If I had done that, maybe I would know where he was right now. Maybe I would have a good idea of where he might have gone, what he might do.

  Maybe I would have felt more confident that he wouldn’t hurt himself.

  He’d left so fast that I’d been in shock. One minute, he’d been beside me, and the next, he was out the door. When I’d gotten up to chase after him, Jerry had stood in my way and told me to, “Let him go.” I’d told him to get out of my way several times before finally pushing past him, but in doing so, I’d wasted precious minutes in which Jace had disappeared. By the time I’d made it outside, he’d been nowhere to be seen.

  “Pick up, pick up, pick up…” I muttered desperately into the phone as it rang.

  No luck. “You have reached Jace Butler. Leave a message after the beep.”

  Shit!

  I angrily brushed away several tears that had slipped down my cheeks. This was not the time to lose it. I needed to keep it together, not cry like a baby. But no matter how many times I told myself that, the waterworks just kept coming.

  I was terrified. This was my nightmare. This was exactly what I had been worried about when I’d told Jace that he should go. Leave. I knew what my mother was capable of. And I also knew the reason that I had dropped the subject way too easily. Why? Because, deep down, I’d wanted Jace here. With me. I was selfish, just like my mother had always claimed I was. If anything happened to Jace, it would be my fault.

  No! Nothing was going to happen to Jace. I couldn’t think like that.

  I tried calling again. This time, I’d leave yet another message. I’d left so many voicemails, most of them along the same lines, so it wasn’t like leaving one more was going to make any difference…but I couldn’t help myself. I just had to say something, even if only to hear myself speak. They all said variations of the same things.

  “Jace? Please call me. Please.”

  “I just need to know you’re okay.”

  “I love you. You know that. Please just come back.”

  “I’ve packed all your stuff up. We’ll leave the minute you walk in the door. We’ll go back to Arcata. You wanted to before, and I was so stupid not to listen to you. Please. Let’s just go back.”

  “Everything will be fine. Please, please, just call me and let me know you’re okay!”

  My mother had gotten her wish. She had cost me the person who meant the world to me. Despair, like I’d never felt before, filled me.

  At a loss of what else to do, I found myself staring down at my phone as if it was the magical solution to this entire horrifying fiasco. The face stared back at me blankly. Closing my eyes I willed the screen to light up with Jace’s photo, indicating that he was calling me. I begged the universe, God, whoever was listening to please, please let him call me back. I opened my eyes. Nothing. Same blank screen.

  Sliding down the wall in my room, I half-sat, half-collapsed as I finally gave in to the anguish that was crashing over me. The tears came in a flood, one after the other, pouring down my face, and I was powerless to stop them.

  Chapter 25

  Jace

  Headlights flashed in my eyes. The pavement shook beneath my feet with each step I took walking down the PCH, and my world began coming back into focus. My heart rate was starting to slow to a more normal pace. As I began to return to myself, thoughts and questions all raced through my mind.

  Cat had been right. About her mother. About everything.

  Even though she had warned me about what her mother was capable of, I still didn’t know how the fuck Angelica had come up with that information. Not only were military records private, but medical records were also supposed to be private. She had managed to violate my privacy on two different fronts, and she had done it in one fucking afternoon. I never would have thought it was possible.

  Damn, I should have told Cat before now. She hadn’t deserved to hear about it like that. Technically, the things her mother had discovered were the ‘facts,’ but the spin Angelica had put on them… Shit, I was practically ready to check myself into the nuthouse after hearing that. If nothing else, she was definitely in the right profession. She was convincing as fuck as an actress. She had me doubting my own mental health after just a few paragraphs of ‘dialogue.’

  And after her performance what had I done? I’d just left. I hadn’t meant to. It wasn’t a premeditated plan. It was pure survival instinct. I had literally felt like I was going to die if I didn’t get out of that house. But fuck, if Angelica had been able to put a spin that twisted on my past, I could just imagine how she was spinning my bolting out of there like a bat out of hell. I’m sure she was using my behavior as exhibit A: that I was a fucking nutcase and Cat was better off with me far away.

  Honestly, it would be hard to argue with that right now. As much as I wish it weren’t true, it probably was.

  Fuck!

  All I had wanted these past few months was to be everything Cat needed. Everything she deserved. She was the most amazing woman I’d ever met. I’d known that from almost the first moment we spoke. From the second I’d laid eyes on her, I’d known that my life had been forever changed. It was so much more than just her looks, although she is incredibly beautiful. It was something about the way our souls instinctively recognized each other.

  We were two broken people holding on to each other for dear life, doing our very best to make each other whole. That was all I wanted—to be the man Cat could hold on to and trust that she could depend on as we both became whole together.

  And how had I proved that? By running out of the damn room the first time her mother pulled some shit on me. I mean, fuck, that little show and tell had been nothing compared to what Cat had endured in that house. The insults. The verbal abuse. The emotional abuse. And she’d hadn’t just survived—she’d thrived. Even going as far as sticking up to her mom even though she’d been shaking like a leaf.

  That was Cat. She was strong. Brave. Resilient. And even with all the shit that had been dumped on her, she was still the sweetest, most trusting, loyal, open person I’d ever met.

  She deserved someone better than me. She deserved a man. Someone who wouldn’t run out of the room because their brain was so fucked up that he’s actually convinced that he’d die if he stayed.

  I’d always known, down deep, that I wasn’t good enough for her. I didn’t deserve her. I’d pushed that down, ignored the truth, because I’d thought maybe, just maybe, I could become the man she deserved.

  Fucking delusional—that’s what I was.

  My world felt like it was crumbling. A feeling of overwhelming hopelessness flooded through me. A dizzy sensation washed over me and I sat down on the side of the road as the cars whizzed by me.

  Time stood still as I sat there, on the side of the road. My heart calmed further and clarity filled my mind. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was Cat looking up at me with her big, brown eyes. My sweet, innocent Cat.

  Wait! Cat!

  What was I doing?

  I’d left Cat in that house. Alone. This wasn’t about me and the bullshit I was dealing with—it was about Cat. I’d left her in the house of horrors with her mother and that asshole Jerry.

  Jumping to my feet,
I began walking with a purpose back the way I’d come, pulling out my phone to call and make sure Cat was okay. To tell her how sorry I was for bouncing like that and beg her to just hear me out. Even if she wanted nothing to do with me after that, which who could fucking blame her? She, at least, deserved to hear from me what had happened.

  I pressed the home button on my phone, and when the screen lit up, it showed that I had thirty-two missed calls and thirty voicemails. Shit! I must have had my phone on silent. I scrolled through the missed calls list and the voicemails list, not surprised to see that they were all from Cat.

  I tried to call her back, but it went straight to voicemail. I almost left a message but thought I should hear what she had to say first. I picked up the pace, practically speed-walking down the highway as I pressed play on my messages. Cat’s voice came through the speaker. She sounded panicked.

  “Jace? Please call me. Please.”

  “I just need to know you’re okay.”

  “I love you. You know that. Please just come back.”

  “I’ve packed all your stuff up. We’ll leave the minute you walk in the door. We’ll go back to Arcata. You wanted to before, and I was so stupid not to listen to you. Please. Let’s just go back. Let’s go home.”

  Great! Now, in addition to everything else, I had worried her out of her mind. I was really on a fucking roll. I tried her number again, and this time, it rang.

  Thank God!

  Chapter 26

  Cat

  I had finally decided—after significant prodding by Rachel—to come downstairs and have some tea. She had insisted that it wasn’t healthy to be closed up in my room, all alone, in the state I was in, and I couldn’t say that I disagreed with her. I didn’t know why I had this tendency to hole up by myself when I got upset, but I knew it wasn’t good for me. Rachel called it my “turtle nature” because she said that it was like I was retreating into my shell.

  So now I sat at the kitchen table, the one where I had spent so many breakfasts growing up and so many pleasant afternoons working on my homework while Rachel cooked dinner, and I barely even recognized the person I had become. I was so anxious and miserable that I wanted to jump out of my skin. This was completely different than the agony I had endured when I was growing up, dreading my mother’s next tirade. Those had been, in a weird way, expected in their unexpectedness. Their very randomness had made them, somehow, the norm.

  This, however, was a whole different ballgame. This was Jace—my Jace—out there somewhere and I didn’t know where he was or if he was safe. I felt like my heart was going to beat so hard that it would explode out of my chest. I wanted to pull my hair out or scream…or…something. That was almost the worst part of it—the feeling of needing to do something, anything, to relieve the intense pressure and not knowing what in the world I could possibly do.

  “Here, lamb. This is what you need,” Rachel said, setting a steaming mug in front of me.

  “Is this…tea?” I asked warily. Since it was piled high with whipped cream, I was skeptical.

  “It’s hot cocoa. The kind you loved when you were a little girl.”

  I took a grateful sip and then immediately sputtered when it hit my tongue. “That’s…not what I remember it tasting like,” I said suspiciously.

  “Well, it’s got a little something extra,” Don added with a wink, “because you’re not a little girl anymore. And because you could use a drink. A real drink. Let’s call it Irish Hot Cocoa, shall we? A Don special.”

  I gratefully took a large gulp and let the warmth of the intoxicating brew flow through me, trying with all that was in me to let it calm me down. It was far from a magic elixir helping me reach a Zen state, but it did at least take the edge off so that I no longer felt compelled to rip my hair out or scream at the top of my lungs. No, now I was content to sit and listen to the thunderous pounding of my heartbeat as I waited for Jace to (please, for the love of God and all that is holy) call. Me. Back.

  I understood that he must be angry with me. Not just because my mother had pulled such a hostile stunt on him. But then, the kicker—I hadn’t even stood up for him. I should’ve done more to defend him. I should have stuck up for Jace the same way he’d stuck up for me in the limo. I should’ve told her that Jace’s private business was exactly that—his own private business—the second she’d pulled out those papers. I should’ve refused to even let her talk.

  But I had been so stunned by the words coming out of her mouth that I had been temporarily paralyzed by them. The situations she’d described had been so horrible, so incredibly traumatic, that I’d actually lost my mind for a few moments while trying to imagine that happening to my poor Jace. I couldn’t even wrap my brain around the fact that he had been through something that horrifically painful. It tore my heart apart just thinking about it.

  Then, when he’d left, I was still so focused on my mother that I hadn’t even noticed until he was out the door. I should’ve (which was becoming a theme with me!) noticed him get up and followed him. I should’ve been Renée Zellweger to his Tom Cruise. We could have had a Jerry Maguire moment.

  But all of those should’ves were just regrets now. It was too late to do anything about them. All I could do was apologize wholeheartedly and tell him what I wished I would have said and done…if he would ever call me back.

  When the phone finally did ring, I was so deep in my own thoughts that it startled me and I jumped. I snatched it and checked the screen, my heart pounding a million miles an hour.

  Yes! It was Jace. I felt lightheaded with relief. My hands were shaking so badly that I had a hard time swiping the screen to answer the call. When I did manage to make the connection, I spoke with a shaky breathlessness.

  “Jace! Are you okay? Where are you?!”

  I clamped my mouth shut. Now was not the time to give in to my habit of nervous babbling. Now was the time to be quiet and listen to what Jace had to say. It wasn’t even terribly difficult to make myself adhere to that rule because I was desperate to hear his voice and what he was going to say when he talked.

  “Yeah…I’m okay—”

  “I’m so sorry, Jace. I’m so, so sorry!”

  “Baby, my phone’s about to die, I just wanted to make sure you knew I was on my way back—”

  “Where are you? I’ll come get you!”

  “I’m on PCH. You don’t have to do that. I’ll be—”

  The phone line went silent.

  “Jace!” I cried, “Jace!”

  Nothing.

  I looked at my phone and saw that the call had ended.

  Jumping out of the kitchen seat, I ran towards the back door.

  “Where is he?” Don’s voice came from the mudroom. He was already dressed with his hat, gloves, and keys in hand.

  Good! Don could drive. I really didn’t think I was in any shape to be operating a motor vehicle.

  “He said he’s on PCH, but then his phone died.”

  Don nodded and then started out the door. I was following right behind him when he turned back and I ran straight into his chest. He looked down at me, his face tight.

  “What?” I asked, not understanding what the traffic jam was for. We needed to get out there and find Jace.

  “I think it’s best if you stay here. Let me go get the boy,” Don said in the tone I had always imagined a father would sound like when speaking to his daughter. I called it Don’s dad-tone.

  “I’m going with you.” I was sure that my voice resembled a petulant child, but this point was not up for discussion. Jace was out there and I was going to go find him.

  Rachel spoke quietly but firmly. “Lamb, just let Don go. With everything that’s gone on today, I don’t think your mother would take too kindly to coming down here and finding you gone.”

  Glancing to Don, then back at Rachel I still had the urge to leave. Screw my mother. But, deep down I knew Rachel was right. If, by some chance, my mother did decide that she needed to speak to me and I wasn’t here, we w
ould be dealing with an entirely different, yet just as scary, situation.

  Even though it was the very last thing I wanted to do, I nodded once. “Fine. I’ll stay.” Then, grabbing Don’s arm, I added desperately, “But promise me you’ll find him. Find him and bring him back to me.”

  “Will do, darlin’.” Don tipped his hat and was out the door.

  I turned back to Rachel, who already had her arms outstretched to me. Then I took one step and fell into them. I held on to her as I tried to tell myself that everything was going to be okay. Don would find Jace. I would tell Jace how sorry I was. We could go back to Arcata and put this whole thing in the rearview.

  That’s what I told myself.

  Too bad I didn’t believe it.

  Chapter 27

  Jace

  “Oh my gosh! I was so scared!” Cat flung herself into my arms the instant I walked through the kitchen door.

  I held her as tight as I could without actually crushing her. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” I rasped, inhaling her sweet, citrusy smell and letting it anchor me into this moment. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll never do it again.”

  “I love you!”

  A knot formed in my throat from hearing those words come out of her mouth. A small part of me had believed that I would never hear them again. Now that I had, my entire world righted itself. Everything came back into focus. My voice cracked as I buried my face in Cat’s neck and whispered, “I love you, too.”

  I heard a throat being cleared behind me and then Don’s trademark drawl. “Well, as much as I hate to interrupt this here love fest, do you think you might take it out of the doorway so that I can come into the kitchen? It’s cold as a witch’s backside out here.”

  Cat responded by disentangling herself from my arms and launching herself into Don’s. “Thanks for bringing him back to me,” she said in a voice that sounded, to me, a little teary.

  Don, clearly embarrassed by the raw affection, patted her back awkwardly and murmured, “That’s all right, hon. All in a day’s work. Or night’s, as the case may be.”