Curled into fetal position on her side, she hugged her pillow instead of lying on it, her arms desperate to hold something, to feel secure. He wanted to be that for her.
After setting the coffee on the windowsill, he pulled the chair as close to her bed as possible. Easing into it, he leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. His hands ached to touch her, but he didn’t.
Instead, he just looked at her. In many ways she was unrecognizable as the woman he knew. Her blond hair, frail body, and a road map of new scars. But the longer he let his eyes settle on her, the more he recognized—the tiny mole below her left earlobe and the way her nose occasionally twitched on its own, the way her eyelashes curled on her cheeks, the rhythm of her breath, and her hands. He knew their strength but never felt anything but love from their touch.
She jumped.
He froze.
But her eyes never opened. She made a soft noise, a heartbreaking noise. Then she silently sobbed into the pillow, but she wasn’t awake. He fisted his hand against his mouth, fighting every urge to touch her.
She jumped again, her eyes flew open, her breath held captive in her chest. Luke refused to move, his own breath waiting for her to do or say something. Her eyes filled with tears and she buried her face in the pillow, her tiny body shaking. He’d give his own life to take away her pain, but it wasn’t his to take anymore.
His hand moved toward hers. Letting just the tip of his finger touch the end of hers. He inched it up with the softest touch. Then, like a young child, she grabbed his finger and squeezed. Luke felt her touch in the deepest depths of his heart.
Red eyes met his, her chin quivering. She sat up and reached for him with both arms.
“D-don’t say any-anything. J-just hold m-me. Please.”
Luke lay next to her and held her in absolute reverence. She slid one of her legs between his as if she couldn’t get close enough. Words congested his throat. There was so much to say, but he stayed silent. He would do anything to keep her in his arms. His own tears fell to the white sheets. How could she be so close yet an ocean away?
*
Life. Was. Cruel.
Jillian woke wrapped in Luke’s arms. There were no words to describe how it felt. There were also no words to describe the shame, the guilt, the regret, the pain. That pain challenged every breath she took.
In a blink he would be gone again. That was the reality of her life. She had to be Jillian Knight to stay alive, and maybe that’s why she questioned her desire to live. Being Jillian Knight was bearable with AJ Monaghan. Without him Jillian Knight felt like a waste of space and time.
“Five minutes.” Her voice was still scratchy, but at least she had one.
Luke pulled back a fraction to look at her, his brows drawn tight.
“For five minutes let’s talk about anything but us. Let me feel normalcy again for just five minutes.”
He continued to just look at her, then he nodded.
“How’s Jones?”
“Still big.”
She laughed. It felt good, like the smallest spark of life. When the silence enveloped them again, she realized he had nothing to ask her and why would he? He didn’t know Jillian Knight.
“How about Lake?”
He chuckled. That felt good to her too. “She’s contumacious.”
“So, awesome?”
“Pretty much.”
“And her leg?”
“She’s hell-bent on having one made to be able to wear high heels.”
“You should make that happen for her.”
“You think?”
She rested her cheek on his chest and fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “Absolutely. She’s a young woman. Just because she lost her leg doesn’t mean she should lose her right to feel sexy.”
He hummed, maybe in agreement or just in thought.
“So … you sell Lascivio.” He nudged the line, a very awkward line.
“I did. I’m not sure what I do now. But, yes, and I was good at it.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
“That I sold it or that I was good at it?”
“Both.”
“Still have my GTO?”
“I do still have my GTO.”
“I miss it.”
“Lucky GTO.”
She pulled away and forced a smile as she sat up. Pain shot through her shoulder from where the arrow landed, as well as the stitches on her chest and shoulder. Nothing hurt as much as Luke thinking she didn’t miss him.
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine. I think our five minutes are up.” She touched her fingers to her throat.
“Can I get you some water?”
She nodded.
“I’ll be right back.”
Jackson’s voice echoed a few seconds before he peeked into her room. “Are you decent?”
“Fuck you.”
“So you’re feeling better.” He smiled, but it wasn’t genuine. It said, “I’m playing casual but I have bad news.”
“I feel like shit. But let’s be honest, I was bound naked in front of everyone. Not that I had much to begin with, but my dignity is gone.”