Chapter Thirty
AJ
I shouldn’t have been so fucking honest. Or perhaps I needed to admit the truth to the person I trust most in this world. Only Grace could watch me fall apart and then put me back together with a single embrace.
Even without her memories, she’s still the woman I fell in love with. Still my best friend. Still my everything.
Now, she clutches my arm as we stand in the closet. “There’s too much,” she says softly. “I should know what I want to wear. Shouldn’t I?”
The pain in her voice stabs me through the heart. She’s still so unsure. So lost, despite being right next to me.
“Maybe it’s not about knowing,” I offer. “Maybe it’s about feeling. What feels right?”
Her left hand shakes as she touches first one sweater, then another, and another before settling on a purple cashmere tunic and the jeans I always thought were her favorite.
We sit on the bed together, and I draw the bathrobe off her shoulders so I can help her with her bra. Every time I see the jagged scars across her back, I want to throttle the fucker who gave them to her.
Fastening the clasp, my fingers brush right over the worst of them, and Grace shudders.
“Are they…ugly?” she asks, her voice so small, it almost fades away on the last word.
“They’re a part of you, Grace. And you’re beautiful.” I press a kiss to the top of her shoulder where another one of them ends.
The tiny sound she makes might be a chuckle. “I’m not sure I can trust you anymore, AJ. When was the last time you had an eye exam?”
“Last month. Twenty-twenty all the way, darlin’. You need help with the rest?”
My phone lights up on the nightstand, Connor’s name flashing across the screen.
Grace passes it to me. “Go ahead. I should be okay until I get to the shoes.”
“Connor? Tell me you’ve got somethin’.” I tuck the phone between my shoulder and my ear, striding out to the kitchen so I can fill Belle’s water bowl.
“Nothin’ concrete. Austin’s fiancée, Mikayla—she’s the botanist I told you about—says the flowers are oleanders.”
“Oleanders?” My back hits the countertop. What are the odds…? “Grace has a tattoo of oleander flowers on her right arm. Along with the phases of the moon.”
“You think there’s a connection? They grow all over the goddamn state.
Hell, they’re native to Texas, California, Nevada, Arizona, Mexico, half of Central America…
Maybe whoever wove them into the ropes did it because of the tattoo.
If she meant somethin’ to them, could have even been out of respect. ”
Rage pulses in my temples. “Respect? She was poisoned, stabbed, and left for dead. What part of that says respect to you?”
“I was on the job for twenty years, AJ. Want to know the most important thing I learned?”
“No.”
“Too bad. You’re gonna hear it anyway. Ignoring a theory, no matter how batshit it sounds, is loopier than a cross-eyed cowboy.”
Fuck.
He’s right. My anger won’t help Grace if it stops us from following a lead—any lead—that could keep her safe.
“Yeah. Okay. So the flowers are a dead end. For now.”
“Did I say that? Mik’s damn good at her job. She’s running tests on the pollen to see if that helps her narrow down where it’s from. Apparently, that’s a thing. She also suggested taking a sample of Grace’s hair and sending that off to a lab for analysis.”
“I cut it for her this mornin’. I can pull a few strands out of the trash—”
“Fuckin’ hell, AJ. You’re a Ranger. You know the ends won’t work. Needs to be recent growth. Down by the root.” Connor’s sigh carries over the connection. “Get your head on straight, idjit. Grace needs you at your best.”
He’s right. I’m still so damn raw from the past three days, I’m not doing anyone a lick of good. I lower my voice as I angle a gaze down the hall toward the bedroom. “Zephyr get anything on cults active in the Austin metro area?”
“Not yet. She’s workin’ two cases right now. I don’t think she’s slept in twenty-four hours. But I put in a call to my old boss at the Bureau. Maybe he’ll have some resources he’ll be willin’ to share.”
“Thanks, man. I owe you.”
Connor chuckles. “We ain’t nowhere close to even, AJ. What you did for Isabel and Veronica? I’ll be in your debt till the end of the world. Let me know how it goes with the doctor today.”
“Will do.”
Belle sits up in the back seat of the SUV, her travel harness secured by the seatbelt.
I should have known she wouldn’t take kindly to Grace leaving the house without her.
I got her in the crate easy enough, but the second she couldn’t see Grace, she started makin’ such a ruckus, I was sure she was gonna hurt herself.
Behind dark glasses, Grace’s eyes are closed, and she has the door handle in a white-knuckled grip.
“I wish I could hold you, darlin’,” I say, reaching over to brush her cheek with my knuckles at a stoplight. “I should’ve asked Jasper to drive us.”
Grace leans into the touch, then grimaces. “It’s not as bad as yesterday. But—” Her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh, God. Air. I need…air.”
I crack the window for her, letting the biting March wind roll through the cabin. “Hang on. There’s a parking lot up ahead. We can stop for a few minutes.”
“No,” she says through gritted teeth. “I’m…okay.”
I shake my head, relieved Grace’s eyes are still closed. Okay is somewhere north of the moon. She ain’t even close to okay. The doc better have some answers for us.
In the parking garage, Parker leans against the bumper of Jasper’s truck, her sharp-eyed gaze sweeping over the handful of cars. This level is reserved for the hospital staff, though I’ve parked down here a time or two on official business.
My brother paces the entire length of the row until he sees my SUV, then double-times it back to the truck.
Grace lets out a sigh the moment I put the car in park.
“You want the walker or the wheelchair?”
“I want to walk on my own,” she mutters.
I cup her cheek and skate my thumb under her eye. “Soon.”
“Uh, AJ?” Parker nods at the back of the SUV. “Did you get Belle an Emotional Support Animal certification in the past twelve hours?”
“She almost destroyed her crate before we got halfway to the door. Didn’t know what else to do with her.” I unfold the wheelchair next to the passenger door. “Maybe you can keep her calm while we go up.”
Parker arches her brows. “If that’s your way of saying ‘stay in the van’, fuck that. Jasper can take her. I’m sticking close to Grace.”
My wife sways to her feet, her right hand gripping the door frame hard enough her arm shakes. The dark gray scarf hiding her blond locks comes loose and flutters to the ground.
Parker retrieves the scarf and helps Grace into the wheelchair. “Boss, if you ever retire, beauty school is a real possibility.”
Grace touches her hair, her gaze pinned to her left hand resting in her lap. “I…like it,” she manages.
All the color drains from Parker’s cheeks. “Shit, Grace. I was being serious. It looks great.” She leans closer and lowers her voice. “But next time I come to the house, I’ll clean up the ends for you.”
“I heard that.” Once I hand Belle’s leash to Jasper, I grab the handles of the wheelchair. “We’re gonna be late. Parker? Lead the way.”
Grace
The service elevator is quiet, but the second the doors open and we move out onto the floor, the noise is almost overwhelming. Too many people fill the halls. The scent of antiseptic reminds me of waking up in the clinic, disoriented, afraid, and alone.
I keep my head down, praying the world doesn’t decide to go sideways on me.
The scarf hides my hair well enough, but even with the dark purple bruise covering my left cheek, I still look like…me.
“Sir! Your dog can’t be in here.” An orderly steps in our path, his voice too loud. Too on edge. My entire body tenses. I want to disappear. To hide behind AJ or Belle or even Parker so he can’t hurt me.
AJ unbuttons his jacket. He clipped his Ranger star to his light blue dress shirt before we left. “We’re here to see Dr. VanHorn. All of us. Including the dog.”
“Ronnie, they’re good.” A woman waves from an open door a few feet away. “I’m Dr. VanHorn. I’m sorry I didn’t meet you at the elevator. This wing is being renovated next week, and I had to get someone to flip the breaker for the MRI.”
As soon as the door shuts behind us, Jasper clears his throat. “I’ll keep watch. You three go with the doc.”
I start to breathe a little easier when we leave Jasper behind. He’s AJ’s twin. Family. He’s never done a single thing to hurt me. But I still have a hard time finding my voice around him.
Belle noses my hand, as if she can sense how on edge I am. I curl my fingers around her harness until the doctor leads us into an exam room where the lights are on low and the blinds drawn.
“Grace, I’m Sydney.” The doctor crouches down so she can see my face, a warm smile curving her lips.
She can’t be much older than me—not that I remember how old that is—with a streak of bright pink in her short black hair.
“Normally, I’d have a nurse, a nursing assistant, and an orderly around for a battery of tests like this, so if I’m a little flustered, that’s why. But we’ll get through it. Okay?”
“Can Belle stay with me?” I ask, tightening my grip on the harness. “And AJ?”
Sydney frowns. “Not the whole time.”
“I ain’t leavin’ her alone,” AJ grits out. “No fucking way.”
The doctor rises, hands on her hips. “Sir—”
“No. Fucking. Way.”
Parker wedges herself between my husband and Sydney. “Dr. VanHorn, how many months of funding did you just receive for your traumatic brain injury research project? Six? Or was it nine?”
With a sigh, the doctor takes a step back. “Fine. But if anyone,” she glances at Belle, “licks the equipment or drools on me…”
“Did you hear that, AJ?” Parker elbows him in the side. “No drooling.”
I hate the sensation of the hospital gown Sydney had me change into. Even worse, it’s white. When I first saw it, I almost begged AJ to take me home. But…I need these tests. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
The CT scan wasn’t terrible. Sydney was gentle as she checked my reflexes, drew blood, and measured my grip strength.
But the MRI machine feels like a coffin.
The bangs and clicks as it takes pictures of the inside of my head are deafening.
Only AJ’s hand on my ankle keeps me from a full-on panic attack.
He hasn’t left my side. Belle is in the next room, her front paws on a chair so she can see me through the window.
Every so often, she barks and whines, but Parker is trying to keep her calm.
“Only another few minutes, Grace.” Sydney’s voice floats through a speaker somewhere inside to the machine. “You’re doing great.”
I’m so exhausted. It’s been more than two hours of questions, reflex assessments, scans, X-Rays, and even a set of math and word problems. I want to go home.
“Hold still for a count of ten. This is the last image I need.”
The loud noises come from every direction. A single tear trails down my right temple. It’s so bright in here, even with my eyes screwed shut. The cacophony from the machine turns into a hum so strong, it vibrates through my entire body. It goes on and on…for hours…even days…
“Your sacrifice will bring about salvation…”
The man’s voice chills me straight through. My stomach twists in on itself like I haven’t eaten in forever. I can’t get out. Can’t move. Can’t breathe. My fists hit wood. It’s so hot. Then freezing cold. My wrists ache. My hands. My head. Oh, God. I’m going to die in here…
“Grace!”
The bright lights fade away. My chilled skin warms where strong arms wrap around me. A wet nose presses to my calf, followed by a solid weight and wiry fur under my fingers.
“Come back to me, Grace. You’re out. The scan’s done.”
AJ.
I open my eyes. The panic and fear etched on his face ease only slightly when his gaze locks on mine.
“You were screaming.” The words are like gravel spilling from his throat. “Begging. ‘Make it stop. Please. Make it stop.’”