Chapter Seventeen #2
His blue eyes stay fixed on my dad, before shifting to me. A flicker crosses his face before he quickly hides it behind that quiet indifference he always wears. It’s that carefully built wall he raises between himself and the rest of the world.
“Dad,” I say softly. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Still holding my dad’s hand, I turn toward Jace.
“Jace,” I say. “This is my dad.”
Jace steps forward slowly.
He walks across the room until he reaches the side of the bed. His hands slip out of his pockets and his shoulders lift. There’s a new sense of respect in the way he carries himself, one I have never seen before.
I never thought I would ever see that from Jace Cooper—the guy who shows up late to class, talks back to teachers, and treats authority figures with casual indifference at best of times.
“Sir,” he says. The word sounds almost foreign coming from his mouth. Too formal. Too polite. Nothing like the way Jace usually talks.
Dad studies him. Those warm brown eyes sweep over Jace from head to toe, taking in the messy blond hair. The kind of boy parents warn their daughters about.
“The... boy... you take extra... food... for.”
My whole face burns. Heat rises up my neck and spreads over my cheeks so quickly I swear the room temperature just shot up twenty degrees.
“Oh my God,” I mutter, pressing my hand to my forehead. “You really went with that one.”
Out of everything he could have said, he chose that.
My dad’s eyes crinkle at the corners, with the right side more than the left, but still enough to show he’s ridiculously pleased with himself.
“She... talks... about... you.”
Embarrassment hits me so hard I almost groan out loud.
“Dad,” I warn.
I risk a glance at Jace. His eyebrows lift, and a flicker of surprise crosses his face before he can hide it. It’s as if the idea that I’ve ever talked about him outside of school is something he’s never even considered.
“Well,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hope it wasn’t all bad.”
My eyes narrow.
“Oh please,” I shoot back. “You wish you were interesting enough for full conversations.”
The corner of Jace’s mouth lifts, a hint of a smirk threatening to break through.
“Good... things,” my dad says slowly. “She... worries.”
I freeze, and every muscle in my body tightens up.
“Dad,” I say again, my tone warning this time—a clear plea for him to stop talking.
I look over at Jace and instantly regret it, because that smug spark has grown into something close to satisfaction. His eyes are gleaming with it.
“Bells worries about me?” he says. There is amusement threaded through his voice. “That’s sweet.”
The cocky bastard.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Cooper,” I shoot back, my face still burning. “I worry about the general safety of the public. You’re a walking hazard.”
His smirk widens, the kind that makes my heart do stupid things in my chest.
“Right,” he says.
Dr. Reeves glances down at the chart again, scribbles something across the page, then closes it.
“Well,” he says, looking between Dad and me. “This is a very good start. I’m going to let you all talk for a bit. But your dad is still very early in recovery, so try not to tire him out too much.”
“Thank you,” I say again.
Dr. Reeves gives the nurse a small nod before stepping out of the room. The nurse moves to the side of the bed, checking something on the IV line and adjusting the monitor. She stays nearby but keeps her distance, giving us space.
Dad’s gaze drifts back to me, locking onto my face with that steady attention I have missed so much.
“Sch… ool.”
It takes him a moment to get the rest of the sentence out. His tongue fights with the sounds. His mouth battles the words.
“How… is… school.”
Even after everything, he still wants to know about my life.
I hesitate, just for a second.
“I…” I start, then stop. “I… haven’t really been going.”
“Why?”
One word. But it carries that same firm tone he always uses when he knows I’m about to give him an answer he won’t accept. The tone that signals there better be a damn good reason.
“Because I’ve been here,” I say. My fingers tighten around his hand again. “I didn’t want to leave you. I couldn’t just sit in class and pretend everything was normal when you were...”
I trail off. I can’t even finish that sentence.
Dad watches me, taking in my face—my red eyes and the exhaustion written across every feature.
“No.” The word comes out clearer this time. Stronger. “Sch... ool.” He pauses, gathering strength again.
His jaw works as he forces the next word out. “Go.”
My throat tightens. “Dad—”
“No.” He squeezes my fingers with the hand that still obeys him. The grip is weak but persistent. “You... go.”
There is no arguing when he uses that tone, even with slurred speech and half his face frozen. That is still my dad beneath all the damage. School matters to him. My future matters to him. My education, my life, and everything he has worked so hard to give me.
I hesitate because part of me still doesn’t want to leave this room. Not when I just got him back.
Dad’s eyes suddenly flick to Jace.
Jace straightens a little. Tension creeps back into his shoulders.
Dad takes another slow breath, gathering his strength.
“Please... make... her go.”
“Oh my God,” I mutter, as heat floods my face again. “Are you seriously recruiting him right now?”
“Yes, Sir.” Jace nods, voice serious and respectful. “I’ll make sure she goes.”
I narrow my eyes and spin around to face him. “You absolutely will not.”
His mouth twitches, a hint of a smirk threatening to break through the careful respect he’s been showing.
“Pretty sure your dad just gave me orders,” he says. His voice carries that low, rough edge. “Can’t ignore a direct request from the man in the hospital bed.”
Dad’s lopsided smile appears again. Wider this time. Victory written all over his broken face. He looks ridiculously pleased with himself.
“Traitors,” I mutter. “The both of you.”
I notice it before anyone says anything—the way Dad’s eyelids start to droop, and the exhaustion washing over him in waves he can’t fight anymore.
The nurse also notices.
“He’s getting tired,” she says, moving closer. “It would be best to let him rest now. He’s had a lot of stimulation for his first time awake.”
I don’t want to leave. Every part of me wants to stay right here and watch him breathe. Make sure he keeps doing it. That this isn’t some cruel dream I am about to wake up from. But I can tell how exhausted he is and how sleep is pulling him down.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” I say, squeezing his hand one more time.
His eyes open again, fighting the weight of trying to keep them open.
“Af... ter... school.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “After school. I promise.”
My eyes sting as fresh tears threaten to fall. I lean down and gently press a kiss to his forehead. His skin is warm beneath my lips.
“I love you, Dad.”
When I pull back, his eyes are already closing. Sleep pulls him under despite his best efforts to stay awake.
I force myself to let go of his hand and make my feet move toward the door even though leaving feels wrong.
Jace steps back, letting me pass. His hand finds the small of my back as we walk into the hallway. That same steady pressure has been anchoring me all night, keeping me upright when all I want to do is collapse in relief.
The house is quiet when we step inside. The kind of quiet that settles over everything when something big just happened and the world hasn’t caught up yet.
I stop just inside the entryway, and the weight of the past two weeks hits me all at once.
Exhaustion crashes over my body. My eyes burn, my head pounds, and every muscle in my shoulders is tight from days of living on pure adrenaline. Two weeks of fearing I might stare at my dad’s chest, praying he will wake up.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I tell Jace quietly.
“Yeah. Okay.”
He stands in the hallway with that guarded expression back on his face.
I take a moment to study him. Something shifted between us tonight; I could feel it. Earlier, in his bedroom before we left for the hospital, there was a softer connection. Now, the wall has gone back up again, as if that moment never happened.
I want to ask him what changed in the time between his bedroom and the drive home, but I am too exhausted. Too emotionally drained to handle whatever storm is brewing inside Jace Cooper tonight.
So I leave it alone.
I head for the stairs and climb them, one hand dragging along the railing for balance as my legs protest each step.
My bedroom door closes behind me.
For a moment, I just stand there in the quiet before moving into the bathroom and turning on the shower. Steam almost immediately fills the small room as the water heats up.
When I step under the spray, the hot water hits my skin and something inside my chest relaxes.
I close my eyes and let the water pour down over my shoulders and run through my hair. For a few minutes, I do nothing but stand here. Breathing. Allowing the tension to leave my body in slow, steady waves.
The heat sinks into my muscles, relaxing the tight knots that have lingered there for days. I tilt my head back and let the water flow over my face, washing away the dried tear tracks and the hospital smell that clings to my skin.
The idea that my dad is awake still seems fragile.
When I turn off the water and step out of the shower, my body feels heavier.
I dry off, pulling a towel through my hair before tossing it aside. My bones have a heaviness to them, as though they’ve been substituted with pieces of lead.
I pull on an oversized shirt that reaches halfway down my thighs and a pair of underwear before stepping back into my bedroom. I sit on the edge of the bed and take a deep breath. Then another. My chest rises and falls as I look down at my hands resting in my lap.
What a fucking day?
I collapse onto the bed and the tears start before I can stop them. They slide down my temples, vanishing into my hair as I lie there, staring up at the ceiling.
For the first time in days, my mind starts to slow down.
I wonder what Jace is doing downstairs, whether he’s sitting on the couch or pacing the living room the way he does when something is bothering him.
A small part of me wants to get up and go downstairs to ask him what his problem is. Another part just wants to crawl back into his bed and let him pull me against his chest, just like he has every night he’s been here. I sleep better when I’m tucked against him. He makes me feel safe.
“I’ll get up in a minute,” I whisper to myself.
But my body won’t move. My eyelids grow heavier. The silence in the room surrounds me as exhaustion pulls me deeper into the mattress.
I close my eyes for just a minute, just long enough to catch my breath. Sleep takes me before I even realize it’s happening.