by Jo Raven
“No, this can’t be. This…” I frown. That selfie? “I took that photo of us, last week. It’s my desktop background. J, I’d never do that. I was going to tell you about my blog and the story, but I only got as far as telling Jet today, and I’m going to take the story down. As for the photo and your names, that wasn’t me.”
“Not you? Then who?”
“Someone must have hacked into my computer. Oh God.” Who would do this to me? Brylee?
Nah. Brylee wouldn’t. What would she have to gain? Besides, she’s not that much into computers.
Whereas Connie is.
Jesus. Could it be possible? I thought we were good friends. What reason would she have to do such a thing?
“It wasn’t you,” he whispers, and maybe I should be angry at him for thinking it was, but I’m numb and frightened and tired, and how can I blame him? I should have told him about the blog long ago.
“Hey, guys!” Brylee is rushing toward us, and we break apart, although he grabs my hand, holding it tightly in his, and it makes my chest warm. “I couldn’t find you.”
“What did you find out?”
“He’s coming out of surgery as we speak. They say he’ll be okay.”
God. My knees go weak, and Joel wraps an arm around my waist, holding me up.
“What else did they say?” he asks tersely.
“They said we can go and wait in another room, but they won’t tell me more because I’m not family.”
“Well, we are,” Joel says. “Let’s go find out.”
***
“Why did you freak out?” I ask him half an hour later, leaning back in my creaking plastic chair in a smaller waiting room, killing time, waiting for Jet to wake up from the anesthetic.
“Hm?” He glances up, his eyes haunted.
“You said earlier this is your fault because you freaked out on Jet. You said things got heated. You got into an argument?”
“What? No, that’s not what I meant. I meant…” He waves a hand, and I watch fascinated as his cheeks turn pink. Making sure nobody else is near, he lowers his voice. “I mean we kissed, and I went down on him.”
“Holy shit.” A matching blush is spreading on my face. “Not fair. Next time I want to see.”
He snorts, but grins at me, flashing his dimple. “I love you, Candy.”
Oh God. “I love you, too, Joel Kingsley. I love both of you.”
He strokes my cheek, his blue eyes warm.
“Look,” I tell him, “I’ll take that photo down the moment I’m home and find out who did this. I know that you like your privacy, you have every right to it, especially after that stupid scandal last year and—”
“Shush.” He reaches again for my hand, and I tangle my fingers with his. “It’s okay.”
“Okay?” I study his flushed face. “You were not okay earlier today. Will you have problems at work because of it?”
“Nah.” He turns our hands so that mine is on top, strokes my knuckles with his thumb. “And if I do, I don’t care.”
“J—”
“No, I don’t fucking care, Candy.” There’s fire in his eyes when he lifts them to meet mine. “I don’t care about the job, or about what my parents think, or what anyone thinks. A job I don’t like, parents who don’t try to understand me, people I don’t care about. What we have is not wrong. And all I care about is you and Jet.”
I lean into him, our shoulders pressing together, and kiss his cheek. He puts his other hand on my face and captures my mouth instead, kissing me deeply.
“We’ll get through this,” he whispers as he pulls back. “And Jet will pull through. He’s tough.”
I think about what the doctors told Joel, that the knife had stabbed a lung and damaged some big blood vessels, causing a lot of bleeding, which they’d managed to stop.
My heart constricts. “Who would do this to him?”
“I think…” Joel glances at the door as if expecting someone to walk in, but it’s quiet. “His father.”
I blink. “What? Why?”
So Joel tells me the story of how Jet’s father stabbed his mother to death five years ago. How Jet watched his father leave, how he was eventually declared missing, the case closed. How Jet seemed unconvinced and scared.
“I talked to his cousin,” he says. “After I got the call from the hospital. He said Jet believes his father is psychotic. That for some reason he kills a family member every five years on this day. Apparently it’s the anniversary of the death of Jet’s grandfather, his own father. Jet believes his father first killed his own brother, then his wife, and today came for his son.”
“Jesus.”
Like, really, what the hell?
“The reason his cousin was calling him a lot lately was that he saw a man watching his house. Then someone broke in, messed everything up. If it was his father…”
I swallow hard. “His father found this address, but realized Jet doesn’t live there anymore. So he went looking for clues.”
“And found Jet’s new address.” Joel’s voice is shaking. “He must have followed him to the bar, saw his chance and fucking stabbed him.”
Now Joel is holding on to me and all I can do is let him. “He’ll be okay. You said it.”
“He has to be. He’s with us. We need him. He’s always doubting himself, thinking nothing will last.”
“We need to tell him.”
“We will.”
Chapter Thirty Two
JOEL
I’ve lived my life to other people’s expectations. Time to show my real face to the world, and if the world doesn’t like it, then fuck the world.
Beeping monitors, a tube going into Jet’s chest to empty the blood from his lung, another going into his hand transporting blood from a plastic bag—bandages, bruises, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.
His dark ink peeking from the pale blue gown he’s dressed in, winding down his biceps, curling up his collarbone.
And Jet’s pale face resting on the pillow, his jaw swollen.
I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve never been so terrified in my whole damn life. Finding out Jet was in danger sure put everything in perspective. Imagining the future without him, and without Candy, was a suckerpunch to the chest.
Candy is stroking Jet’s hair, and I want to do the same, but instead I shove my hands into my pockets and stand there, looking on.
My blood is rushing too fast in my veins. My pulse is racing. I’m filled with restless anger at everything and everyone that hurt Jet. I want to punch a hole through the wall of the hospital. I want to kill his crazy father.
I shift restlessly from foot to foot.
Then Jet’s lashes lift. He murmurs something, and Candy lifts the mask off his face. She kisses his mouth, a soft, quick kiss, strokes his hair off his brow.
He gives her a small, groggy smile, then painfully turns his head, as if looking for something, or someone. One eye can barely open, but that doesn’t stop him.
My chest feels too small. I rub a hand over it as he scans his surroundings. His gaze lands on me, and even drugged to the gills, he smiles for me.
Oh, to hell with this. I approach the bed in two swift strides and sink down on the hard mattress, careful not to jostle him too much, then I put my hand on his face and kiss him full on the lips.
Shock is written all over his face when I lift my head. “J.”
His voice is hoarse and rough like sandpaper, but it’s the best sound in the world.
“I’m so sorry I ran. I’m never running again, Jet. I promise you that.” I push the hair from his eyes, trace the bruises. “I’m done with running. I’m staying with you and Candy.” Sudden doubt assaults me. “If you still want me to stick around.”
“Yes.” He swallows, licks his dry lips, his eyes warm and wet. “Idiot.”
I laugh, my eyes stinging. I can’t remember the last time I cried. Must have been a kid. The wetness on my cheeks is disconcerting. “I love you, Jet.”
/> “Me too,” he whispers, and I’m startled to find tears on his cheeks, too.
“You…” I don’t know what to do with all these feelings, dammit. “Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again, or I’ll string you up by your balls, you hear me?”
Candy snorts, and I gesture for her to come to me. She walks around the bed, and I pull her in front of me, between myself and Jet.
“Tell him,” I say, wrapping an arm around her middle, kissing her neck. “Tell him.”
“We love you, Jet,” she whispers. “So much.”
His throat works. “I…” He obviously can’t find a reply to that.
“Sh.” She puts a finger to his lips. “It’s okay.”
“I left the store,” he rasps. “Without you. I told Donna.”
“Told her what?” I ask, baffled.
“That he never finished school,” Candy replies for him. “That’s why you left? I thought… Never mind what I thought. Oh, Jet…”
“Explain.” I frown at them.
“We lied to her about it. I’ll talk to her, Jet.” She strokes his cheek. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll explain. She’ll take you back. Focus on getting well, and everything will be okay.”
He says nothing, and after a moment he dozes off, his face going slack.
Candy adjusts the covers over his chest. “We should let him sleep,” she says, her voice hushed and wavering.
I tug her to her feet, enfold her in my arms and we go out, leaning against each other, leaving a part of ourselves on that bed. Leaving him alone.
But only for a short while, that I swear.
***
“What are you thinking?” I ask her as we step outside the hospital for a breath of fresh air. She’s very quiet.
Then again, she looks exhausted. Just like I feel.
“I’m thinking that the world is a crazy place.”
I nod. No shit.
“And that it’s weird after all these years wanting you guys to really be with you.”
“That’s weird.” I grin at her, hug her more tightly to my side. “So you were lusting after me from a distance at college?”
“Sometimes from even closer. You just never noticed me.”
“I was an idiot. Even Jet said so.”
“Well, if Jet said it, who am I to argue?” She sticks her tongue out.
It makes me laugh. “Move in with us,” I tell her.
She gives me a startled look. “J…”
“We’ll get a bigger couch. And a huge bed.”
“How huge?”
“The biggest they have.”
“Tempting.”
“That we are.”
She smiles at me, soft and warm. “Yeah, you are. I’d love to, J.”
I kiss her cheek and lead her to a bench. It’s a pretty cold night for August. She shivers, and I rub her back. “You’ve been helping Jet with his studying, right? To get his GED. Is he having trouble?”
“With the reading and writing part. I was going to ask you if you knew about this. I think he may be dyslexic. He may also have a bit of ADHD”
I freeze. “Really?”
“I asked my doctor about it, and she thinks it’s possible. You don’t think so?”
“I never thought about it. Didn’t even know he had specific difficulties.”
“I was going to take him to a specialist. He can get help, and they could help him get his GED, too.”
I hang my head. “I failed him, didn’t I?”
“Not if he never told you about it.” She elbows me lightly in the ribs. “Hey, none of that. He would have told you eventually. He was sort of forced into telling me because of the bookstore.”
“I don’t know.” I hug her so hard I’m not sure she can still breathe. “What I know is that you’re good for us. And we can’t live without you.”
“That’s a bit too soon to say,” she giggles, struggling to get free from my starfish-hug. “We’ve only been together a few weeks.”
“But we fit,” I say, because I feel it in my chest, in my bones. “Like we were made of each other.”
Like we were meant to be.
“That’s true,” she says after a moment and snuggles in my arms, smiling again. “And don’t forget I knew it first.”
***
Watching the doctors prod and poke Jet has my hackles up, and it’s only because Candy is practically holding me back I haven’t yanked them away from him and demanded they be more careful.
“It’s okay,” Candy whispers, pressing a hand to my middle, as if sensing everything going on inside my head. “They’re helping him, J. Don’t worry.”
I could have lost this. Lost him. I’d have given it up. Given them up, and for what?
My parents who are bigots and never cared about what I want. And a job I don’t even know if I like, my first job—just a step in a career I still haven’t figured out. I don’t know what kind of job I would like yet—but I do know I want these two people in my life, and I’d do anything to be with them.
“J,” Jet rasps and I jerk forward, dragging Candy with me.
“What is it?”
“When can I leave?”
Candy makes a tiny sound of distress. “Not yet, baby.”
“He has to stay a few days. He’s lost a lot of blood,” the doctor says, frowning.
“J,” he says again, and it’s a blow to my heart.
All I want is to take him home.
“They want to keep you a bit longer,” I say, hating the disappointment in his eyes. “But soon we’re taking you away from here.”
“Okay.” His hands are trembling on top of the sheets. I take them in mine and squeeze them.
“We will be here,” I tell him. I hold his gaze, see it clear a little. “We’re not leaving you here on your own.”
Candy nods and goes around the bed to sit on the other side of him. “Can’t get rid of us. We’re here to stay.”
His eyes flick from her to me and back. It’s painful to see how relieved he looks. That’s what bothered him? Maybe he’s afraid to be alone after the attack. I wouldn’t blame him.
All the nightmares from these past years, they all make sense now. What a burden to bear alone. But now…
“You’re not alone anymore.” I stare at him until he bites his lip and his eyes fill up again. “Never again. Candy and I… we need you, Jet. More than anything in the world. You know that, right?”
“You mean everything to us,” Candy adds, and we lean over the bed, mindful of the tube and bandages, and wrap him up in the cocoon of our bodies.
He’s ours, and we’ll keep him safe.
Chapter Thirty Three
JETHRO
He’s stabbing me, again and again, the knife flashing, rising and falling. There are bodies lying all around me. My mother, my uncle.
Joel. Candy.
Panic jerks me out of sleep, and then the pain in my chest hits, and I panic some more. There’s nobody beside me, no sound except my gasping breaths.
Is it over? Where’s Candy and Joel? Are they alive?
By the time the nurse does her rounds, I’ve calmed down. She doesn’t ask me why I’m awake in the middle of the night. I guess it’s normal if you’re in the hospital. Who the hell knows?
It’s not until they come back inside the next morning that I relax enough to sleep again.
The policeman sitting beside my bed is clearly uncomfortable. He’s wiping sweat from his brow again, shifting in the plastic chair they brought in for him, trying not to stare at the bruises and bandages covering me.
Heh, good luck with that. I’d stare if it were me in that chair. I bet I look spectacular. I’m beaten up, stabbed and stitched back together like a ragdoll. I feel like one, too—disjointed, broken, tattered.
Who would want someone like me, huh?
But then I have to shake my head, because I remember that Joel and Candy do, and I smile in spite of the pain in my jaw.
“Are you awake, Mr.
Connors?” He leans forward, having noticed my eyes are now open.
Which means I can’t put this off any longer.
Shit.
“I’m awake,” I croak.
He winces at the sound of my voice, but hey, not my fault hospital air is so dry and that I’ve just been stabbed half to death, right?
“I would like to talk to you about your father,” he says, and his words echo in my ears.
Talk to you about your father…
“You caught him?” I say, a shot in the dark, and I’m shocked when he actually nods. “You did? You serious?”
“Yes. We caught him a few blocks away from the alley where he, um, where he stabbed you.”
Holy fucking shit. Can’t believe it. My father was a ghost for five years, a vengeful ghost haunting my sleep. Nobody but me believed he was still alive. He’d been missing for too long.
Now they have no choice but to believe me, and the thought brings me no satisfaction whatsoever.
I stare at the policeman through my one good eye. “What will you do with him?”
He’s flustered again. “He’s in jail. He’ll be taken to trial and most probably spend a long time in prison.”
Right. “He won’t be released any time soon, right?”
“Released?” He opens his mouth, closes it. Tries again. “He tried to kill you. He was seen by witnesses. The knife he stabbed you with is covered in his fingerprints. He’s going to prison.”
Oh good. I close my eyes, so relieved I could cry, but my eyes are dry. It’s okay. My father can’t go after anyone else I care for—Joel or Candy. That’s all that matters.
“Do you know why he did it?” the policeman asks me. He’s a detective, most probably. I didn’t even catch his name. Did he even say it? “Your father. Why he came after you.”
I blink. Shit, it’s a long story, and I’m so tired. Not sure I can do this now. He’s in jail. There’s time. I just want to sleep.
Someone slides the curtain aside and enters. It’s Joel—I know from his shape, his gait, his mop of floppy dark hair, his presence—and I breathe out.
I’m safe.
“I can answer any other questions you might have,” he tells the policeman, his voice pleasant but firm. “Jet needs his rest.”
