by Ann, Jewel E
Luke belonged to Jessica.
He was her past and she died.
Everyone needed a mantra and that became hers. The bed creaked as she crawled in next to AJ and took his hand in hers. The need to feel the warmth of his body, the beat of his heart, the whisper of his breath … it felt as vital as the air in her lungs, the blood in her veins. Seeing Luke, or what felt like a ghost of a life that no longer existed, only intensified her need to be in the arms of the man who gave her a second chance. AJ accepted the woman and the monster without explanation. Who does that?
“I love you, Aric James. You’ll never know how much I needed you to come into my life when you did. You’ve given my existence a life again. This feeling in my chest feels like …” she placed her other hand over her chest “…like a fucking heartbeat. I don’t even know how that’s possible, but it’s there…” she rolled to the side and pressed her lips to his shoulder. “…and I need it.”
He didn’t move. Not a twitch. Nothing more than a slow breath and weak heartbeat. The lump in Jillian’s throat thickened.
“I need you,” she whispered as the first tear fell. “Until you asked me to come to Portland, I’d gone to all of Cage’s games. I didn’t tell you before now because I knew how much pain you’d feel just from the mention of his name. He’s so damn talented and strong, but he needs his father. You need to be there to cheer him on, not just on the field but in life. Children need their parents … even when they die, that need doesn’t ever go away.”
She closed her eyes and prayed. For years she questioned God’s existence, most people in hell probably did. But maybe God saw how she’d loved another selflessly and would grant her one wish … one answered prayer.
“Let me keep him … even if I burn in hell later, just for now … let me keep him.”
*
God had decided to at least give her request some thought, because Jillian awoke from the floor to the sound of AJ coughing. It wasn’t a miracle healing, but ten hours after her request, he was still breathing. Or at least trying to breathe.
“Here.” She knelt beside the bed holding a glass of water as he struggled to sit up a little bit.
He took a small sip and tried to clear his throat. “Tha-th-tha—” Closing his eyes, he shook his head and clenched his teeth.
“You’re welcome.” Jillian kissed his lips, resting her hands on his face. “I know this is hard for you right now, but it’s going to get better.” She nodded her head, waiting for him to open his eyes.
When he did, he shook his head. “N-no.”
She resented the pleading look in his eyes. He covered her hands with his, pulling them to his chest as he tried to squeeze them.
“Mm-my r-re-real.”
Pulling away, she stood and walked to the other side of the room, keeping her back to him. “Stop saying that. I don’t want to be your fucking real. I want to be your goddamn future! Do you kn—” Her voice cracked from the pain her chest “Do you know what I’ve endured to get to this point in my life?” She shook her head, brushing her fingers over her cheeks. “I died to be with you, and I know you don’t understand that, but it’s true. I gave up my last fucking breath to be here.”
Jillian turned. And that new heart? It broke.
AJ looked at her through red eyes … tears trailing down his face.
“Let me take you back to Portland. Please. I’ll stay with you. I’ll go to every appointment and hold your hand … or prance around the room naked, or read you the boring newspaper. Just … let me take you back and let me fight this with you.”
AJ looked down at the floor for a few seconds that felt like an eternity as she waited for his answer. When he looked up … he nodded.
*
Jillian packed AJ’s bags while she waited for Jackson to get back from running a few errands. She hoped one of them was to Ryn’s. It would be an awkward Thanksgiving dinner if they didn’t at least call a couple hours truce. AJ had slept most of the day, but she hoped he would be awake for Thanksgiving dinner, even if he didn’t eat anything.
“Jill?”
“In here,” she called out the door of AJ’s bedroom.
Not even a freight train could wake him when he was in his deep sleep.
Jackson stood in the doorway as she zipped up AJ’s travel bag on the floor.
“Hey, did you get your errands ran?”
Jackson nodded.
“Please tell me you saw Ryn and made up.”
“I messaged her.”
“About dinner?”
He nodded.
“And everything is good?”
Another nod.
“Are we still eating here? I don’t want to try to move AJ.”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
Jackson stared at her then looked at his watch. “Three hours.”
“Perfect. I can do a load of my laundry, shower, and pack. Text me when she gets here with the food?”
A nod.
Jillian kissed a sleeping AJ on the forehead. “Love you,” she whispered. “Don’t look so grumpy.” She pinched Jackson’s cheeks as she squeezed by him. “It’s Thanksgiving. I’m not cooking the meal. And AJ agreed to fight. It’s a good day.”
“A good day,” Jackson repeated like he was testing out the words.
Jillian rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back.”
“Wear something nice.”
She turned at the front door. “Really? You’re in jeans.”
“Ryn’s dressing up. She doesn’t want to be the only one.”
Jillian shrugged. “Okay then.”
She threw in a load of laundry to wash, then soaked in the tub, taking the time to shave all her neglected parts. After doing her hair and packing for their trip, she shrugged off her robe and slipped on a red shift dress and black heels. Just as she glided on her favorite red lip stick, her phone vibrated.
Jackson: Dinner.
Jillian: Be right there.
Jackson: I love you, Jillian.
His holiday sentimentality made her smile.
Jillian: U2
She slipped on a wrap and stepped out into the cool breeze. Ryn’s car wasn’t in AJ’s driveway. Jackson must have let her park in the garage to haul in all the food. Soft music played in the background as she stepped inside. All the lights were off except for a soft glow that flickered from the dining room.
“Hello?”
No one answered.
She stopped at the entry to the room illuminated with candles everywhere. A table was set for two with the elegance of a five-star restaurant, a massive bouquet of roses in a large glass vase divided the two place settings at opposite ends. Jillian smiled.
Cloth napkins.
As she moved around the table to the setting behind the roses, her smile faded. The white napkin folded and held by a silver napkin ring had black ink—writing on it. She slowly eased into the chair, letting her wrap fall to the floor as she slid the napkin from the ring.
Jillian,
You look beautiful tonight—simply stunning as always. Please accept my sincerest apologies for missing our first official date. I had a chance to go and I took it.
“No …” she sucked in a shaky breath as tears filled her eyes. “What have you done?” she whispered.
I don’t know what’s on the other side or even which direction I’m going, but I hope by the time you’re reading this I’m sitting across from you, even if you can’t see me.
She looked up at the empty chair across from her. “Aric James …” she breathed his name as her tears stained the table cloth.
Some things in life you just know. I knew the day I laid eyes on you that the course of my life would change forever. I knew the first day you helped me through that migraine in the shower, that no one had ever touched me so deeply … so completely. I knew the night you broke my nose that I hated you. It was also at the exact moment that I knew I loved you. Don’t roll your eyes—it’s the God’s honest truth.
She sobbed and laughed a little through her tears.
And I knew the day I was diagnosed with cancer that I was going to die. What I didn’t know was how desperately I would want to live. As we both saw, my body wouldn’t cooperate with my mind. You deserve a life … a real life. Not the pathetic excuse for existence that I had become.
The napkin shook in her trembling hands.
Time couldn’t mend my body … but you mended my soul. I’ll leave knowing that I was the luckiest bastard alive because I was loved by you. And you, my beautiful girl … you were loved by me.
~ Aric James Monaghan
Dawn of Forever
Jewel E. Ann
For my readers, I “adore” you.
Chapter One
Day
“Jude! Stop!” Sunny Day held up the long skirt of her evening gown as she chased her seventeen-year-old son out the front doors of the de Young Museum.
Jude couldn’t breathe, yet his legs propelled him … away from the woman impersonating his mom. Away from what he saw. Away from his life falling apart.
“Stop! You don’t understand.”
She was right. He didn’t understand. How could he? No explanation on Earth could justify what she did.
“Please …” Her plea broke with a heart-wrenching sob.
As if he hit an invisible wall, he stopped—chest heaving, heart hardening into a four-chambered prison of bitterness.
Sunny rested her hand on his shoulder. He jerked it away, keeping his back to her.
“I love him. I’ve loved him my whole life.”
Jude laughed. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”
“You’re old enough to hear the truth. I’m not going to lie to you.”
Jude didn’t want the truth. He wanted to un-see his mom kissing a man who wasn’t his father. He wanted to un-hear her saying that she “loves him.”
“Fuck you.”
“Jude!”
He turned. “If I’m old enough to hear the truth, then I’m old enough to tell you what I think of it.”
Why was she crying? The tears she wiped from her eyes meant nothing.
“We met when we were five. To say we were inseparable would be an understatement. He was the first boy who held my hand, the first boy I kissed, the boy who took me to all my homecomings and proms. He was my first everything. Then he enlisted in the military and left me. I waited for him for five years, but he kept reenlisting and his career ambitions crowded me out of his life. I wanted a family … I wanted a life.”
“I don’t care.” He gritted his teeth. Heat flushed through his body as his muscles tensed to the point of quivering.
The stranger before him clutched her body, holding herself together. Her voice thickened with pain. “Someday you’ll understand. Someday you’ll fall in love and it will brand your heart forever. And if life keeps you apart, you may invite others into your heart, but it will never truly be theirs. One stamp. One person.”
Sunny gazed at Jude with vacant eyes. “I hate him for leaving me. I hate him for coming back when it was too late. I hate him for still loving me. But after seventeen years I’m just so tired of all the hate. I was in it for you and Jessica.”
“Was?”
She cast her eyes to the ground on a long, slow sigh. “I’m leaving your father after you and Jessica start college next fall. I wanted to wait until next summer to say anything. I know Jessica will take it hard, but she’s a strong young woman. I know you two are close and you don’t have secrets, but if you love her, then you need to think about what’s best for her during her last year of high school.”
Jude leaned forward, demanding she look at him. “If I love her? Do you hear yourself? How can you preach to me about love when the only person you love is yourself and that fucker who had his hands all over you!”
A second round of tears filled his mother’s eyes. He felt nothing.
“I love you and Jessica—”
“No! You just said one stamp. One person.”
“It … it’s not the same.” She shook her head, pressing the back of her hand beneath her nose as sobs racked her body. “The love I have for you is a different kind of love. It’s unconditional. You and Jessica are not my heart, you’re the beat. You’re my life, my world. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, and I’ve spent the past seventeen years proving it. I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you, being here for you, protecting you …”
Jude narrowed his eyes. “I don’t want your protection. I don’t need your protection.”
“Don’t say that.”
Love didn’t exist, at least not the way he thought it did. Jessica was daddy’s girl, but Jude idolized his mom. Sunny was president of the PTO, organizer of fundraisers, keeper of schedules, the bright face in the front row at all their school events, the hug before bed and kiss on the cheek in the morning. She kept a tidy house, baked, cooked, mended clothes, and always … always made everyone feel loved.
More than that, she was the loving wife. Jude knew it. He saw it in the adoring looks she exchanged with his father, the hand-holding, the playful banter, the patience she showed when his job got stressful. She was the glue that held everyone together.
No longer.
She was a fraud. A liar. An adulterer. She could not be trusted. Women could not be trusted … except Jessica. That night his sister became his everything and all other women became objects to fuck. Period.
Chapter Two
Knight
Jackson Knight made one call to set everything into motion.
“Dodge, it’s Jackson Knight. Sorry to disturb you on Thanksgiving, but I have some bad news …”
AJ’s head rested against the PT Cruiser window. It felt as cold as the voice outlining the events of his death … only he wasn’t dead—yet.
He died in his sleep. Jillian found him. The body was taken from his house to prepare for transport back to Portland.
The car slowed as the hum of pavement turned to crunching gravel beneath the tires. Jackson cut the engine.
Silence.
AJ blinked open his eyes.
Nothing.
“W-w-where a-are we?” The option of dying with dignity no longer existed.
“The end of the road.”
AJ nodded.
“S-she’ll h-a-a-te you.”
The lack of Jackson’s response confirmed it. Jillian would hate them both.
“You can’t keep anything down, so I can’t really offer you a last meal. Do you have any other last requests?”
When Cage flew to Portland for the weekend, AJ said his final goodbye. Neither of them acknowledged it was the last goodbye, but when his college quarterback son clung to him with the desperation of a five-year-old boy, the tears said all that needed to be said.
Life is not fair.
I’m sorry.
I forgive you.
I love you.
His father would understand. His mother would not, and neither would Brooke. Women were built to nurture and carry hope beyond all reason. Even Jillian, with her ironclad heart, succumbed to her own vulnerability when she begged him to go back to Portland with her. In that moment she was no longer his real. If he were honest with himself, he lost that Jillian on a private jet from Houston to Omaha. She died in his arms that day, but he didn’t know why.
“Ji-Jillian. I w-want … to k-know.”
“Know what?”
“Ever-ev-er-ything.”
“Everything?” Jackson grunted a laugh. “If I tell you everything, there’s no going back. Right now, you could ask me to take you back to her and I would. Once I start this story, the only way it will end is with you dying. Understood?”
AJ married the first woman he truly loved. Minutes after Brooke gave birth to their son, he watched Cage’s tiny fingers wrap around his pinky finger, claiming his heart. He took a bullet for a comrade on the battlefield, serving his country with pride. Fuck the PTSD. AJ lived a good life. A life that ended with the love of a woman
who took him in a show-me-your-worst-and-I’ll-love-you-even-more way.
“Un-der-stood.” He closed his eyes and never opened them again.
“Her name was Jessica Mauve Day, born and raised in San Francisco—daughter to Grant and Sunny, sister to Jude. She has elite tactical and self-defense skills. At seventeen, she and her best friend were kidnapped by a serial killer. Her friend died from forty-four slashes to her flesh, the final one to her femoral artery. Jessica survived because that’s what she is … the ultimate survivor. One of the kidnappers died from forty-four slashes to his flesh, the final one to his femoral artery. The other kidnapper died at a rest stop in Wyoming several months ago from a broken neck, but the official report called it heart failure. Can you guess who killed them?”
AJ had no more to say.
“She fell in love with her psychiatrist and they lived together with their dog until our parents were killed last year. Our father was an undercover DEA agent until someone blew his cover. As a result, Jessica and Jude had to die too, so that Jillian and Jackson could live. She’s fucked-up in ways I don’t think anyone will completely understand. But if I’m honest, all she’s ever really wanted is a sense of normalcy and someone to love.”
Silence.
Pain.
Regret.
Then … nothing.
*
One.
Jude Day took the lives of twenty-three people. Jackson Knight killed one man—a mercy killing. After Jillian killed Trigger, Jackson swore he’d never let his sister take another life. AJ would have asked her to take his. Pain makes a person desperate, and Jackson had never seen so much pain bleed from one man.
She would hate him. He would accept it. They would survive. It’s who they were.
A single candle flickered on AJ’s dining room table. Jackson stepped over the shards of glass and scattered roses in a pool of water on the floor, the wall still wet from impact.
“If you touch me … I. Will. Kill. You.” Jillian’s hoarse voice ripped through the silence.
He stood over her. She hugged the cloth napkin to her chest, body curled into fetal position on the floor.