He nodded and it could have been her imagination, but she swore his eyes teared up before he hugged her to him and whispered into her hair, “My God … I love this woman.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Knight
Jillian stared at Knox. His story tore her heart apart. It allowed doubt to creep into her conscience, causing mayhem with the memories of her past. Knox didn’t deserve that story. He didn’t deserve the young innocence of her mother, not when he stole hers so brutally.
“Why?” she whispered.
The trip down memory lane left him equally somber. The hardened man she knew softened before her. Sunny did that. She knew a different Knox McGraw, the ginger-haired boy who loved strawberry pigtails and red Mary Janes.
“Why what?” he whispered.
Jillian recognized something in his voice. Hers had it too. Grief.
“Why am I here?”
“Because Irene wants revenge.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He inched his gaze up to meet hers, confusion knitted along his brow.
“Why do I exist? Why did Sunny marry Grant?” In the bigger picture, the one she had yet to understand, they no longer felt like her parents. They were nothing more than a tragic mistake that eventually destroyed everything in its path.
“I didn’t realize nothing lasts forever. I took her for granted, and then I lost her.”
“She loved my father. I know she did. I’ve felt that love.” Jillian swallowed back the pain. “I’ve had it twice. I know when it’s real.”
Knox’s eyes glazed over as he stared at the floor between them. He nodded slowly. “She did love him. Sunny would never marry someone she didn’t love.”
“You were mad at her for choosing him. That’s why you became such an asshole—a monster.”
“And the plot thickens,” Irene announced as she threw open the door and pounded her way down the stairs, still wearing combat boots. “My sources tell me your brother is looking for Knox. Seems there’s been a breach. Hmm … let me guess … I’m guessing that breach would be a certain shrink from San Francisco. He took a flight to Chicago and a car to Omaha. The guy’s not exactly James Bond, but I gotta hand it to you … you’ve managed to surround yourself with men who would die for you. It’s quite romantic—tragic, but nonetheless romantic.”
Jillian closed her eyes. She didn’t want Luke riding in on his gallant steed. Irene would pierce his heart with an arrow and let his horse run off a cliff. Jillian wanted Luke to forget about her, marry that completely-put-together girl she knew he deserved, and have the four beautiful children he dreamed of having.
She would die. She’d do it to save Luke, she’d do it for Jackson, and she’d do it to take away the pain of losing AJ.
“Don’t worry, Knox. Since you’re a bit tied up, I’ll have someone reply to Jackson on your behalf.” She cackled like an evil witch. “I think we can have him here in say…” she twisted her lips and rolled her eyes to the ceiling “…forty-eight hours.”
“He won’t come.” Jillian coughed, her throat dry and raw.
Irene held up her phone and snapped a picture of Jillian. “Shoot, I think you blinked. Don’t worry, I don’t actually think I’ll have to use it, but it’s a nice backup to have. He’ll come. I guarantee it.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d love to stay, but it smells like shit down here. Can I get either one of you anything?”
Knox stared at the bowl of dirty water next to him. Jillian had watched him drink from it like a dog then nearly throw his shoulder out of socket to get back up to a sitting position.
The IV kept her alive, but it did nothing for her mouth and throat.
“Very well then. I’ll let you two get back to story time. Mickey and Sunny. It’s quite touching isn’t it?” She glared at Knox before giving Jillian a bitter smile.
He was right. She had eyes and ears everywhere.
As soon as the door shut, Jillian looked at Knox.
“Keep going. Take it full circle. Make me love my mom again and hate you. That’s the only happy ending.”
*
Sunny
Sunny and Mickey gave each other their virginities. They promised to be each other’s first and last. They loved hard and fought even harder. Mickey felt like Sunny deliberately applied to the colleges with the worst sports teams just to postpone marrying him until after college. The difference between them was she cared about her parents’ opinions. He did not.
“I can’t wait any longer, Sunny. I’ve been offered scholarships to six different colleges and I need to decide. You need to decide.”
She sat up in bed and slipped on his T-shirt as he scooted back against the wall. Sunny’s closet was bigger than his bedroom, with a squeaky twin bed and an old metal trunk. He had three shirts he deemed worthy of having on hangers, which hung from his curtain rod because he didn’t have an actual closet: his basketball jersey, football jersey, and the only dress shirt he owned.