Chapter Forty-Four
Grace
I stop halfway down the hall, breathing through a sudden sharp stab of pain in my temple. My legs feel like rubber bands stretched too tight, and every step from the front door—where I said goodbye to Karen—to here has been a battle.
“Your brain is rewiring itself, Grace. That ain’t an easy thing to do. Give it time.”
While I know Karen’s right, I want to be able to trust my own body again. In the early hours of the morning, I dreamed of running. The sun kissing my skin, the breeze cooling my cheeks. Running is—was—freedom and joy and strength.
But I think it was also something I did just for me.
Now what do I have? Drawing only brings up dark images I don’t understand.
Cooking? AJ says I never much cared for it.
And even if I wanted to try it—see if I like it as part of my new life—my body isn’t up to it yet.
There’s an old guitar in AJ’s office. I almost laugh.
Like my fingers would cooperate enough for that.
What do I have that’s mine?
I need a minute before I take another step, so I lean against the wall, pull out my phone, and launch the group chat.
Grace: Do you think if I asked him to, AJ would arrest Karen’s stash of clothespins? I’m pretty sure they’re trying to kill me.
Three dots trail across the bottom of the screen next to Parker’s photo. But they vanish a second later.
Did I go too far? Joking about inanimate objects trying to kill me less than two weeks after I was poisoned, stabbed, and left for dead in the middle of nowhere?
The bubbles come back, then stop again. And again.
Yep. I went too far.
Shit.
My eyes prick with tears. The group chat was mine. Or…I thought it could be. Mine and Parker’s and Emi’s and Isabel’s. Emi’s probably busy preparing for the news conference. Isabel’s at work. But still…
A tiny buzz almost startles me enough to drop the damn thing. The relief at seeing Parker’s haha reaction is so overwhelming, a single tear plops onto the screen.
Sliding the phone back into the pocket of my yoga pants, I grit my teeth and straighten. If AJ’s done with his call, I’ll try to convince him to join me for a bath. And this time, maybe he won’t just help me wash my hair.
My steps are slower than I’d like, but mostly steady. Picturing AJ naked helps.
The door is cracked, so I don’t bother knocking and push it open.
AJ’s back is to me, his shoulders tense, his hands on his hips, staring at a large bulletin board propped up on the credenza by the window.
Every inch of it is covered. Note cards, newspaper clippings, torn pieces of paper. Messy, but methodical at the same time. My gaze sharpens on one of the headlines.
APD Suspends Grace Stone Kidnapping Investigation
I take a step closer. The notes…they’re all in AJ’s handwriting. A map of Austin covers the bottom right corner, circles and arrows pointing to Lady Bird Lake. Above it, there’s a photo of a water bottle next to a cell phone with a cracked screen.
My chest tightens. Dozens of notes are pinned one over another. He did this—all of this—trying to find me.
“AJ?” I whisper.
He doesn’t hear me. He’s too focused on the board. I take another step closer, my hand braced on the wall for balance.
Shit.
In the top left corner, he’s pinned a photo of the lantern I drew the other day. And the picture under it…
I swallow a sob. The dress I was found in. Crimson covers it, so much I don’t understand how I’m standing here. I knew about it. Dr. Reyes described it to me. But when Parker gave it to Chief Harris, it was all sealed up in an evidence bag.
In the next breath, snowflakes sting my cheeks. It’s dark. I’m so cold. My stomach cramps. There’s a bitter taste in my mouth. My arms. Why can’t I move my arms?
I blink hard, shoving the memory away. But my gaze lands on a notecard slanted over the pictures. Three words stand out in AJ’s messy scrawl. Oleander? Full Moon?
I can’t breathe.
Does he think my kidnapping had something to do with my tattoo? No. He would have told me.
My legs wobble, and I know if I don’t sit down, I’ll fall.
I stumble over to his desk, but stop before I reach the chair. He’s pushed the leather blotter aside, and a sea of Post-It notes fans out around his laptop.
Cult?
The dress? Made just for her?
Oleander flowers woven into the ropes.
Why the lanterns? Symbolic?
Full moon the day she disappeared. And the day she was dumped.
The world tilts and blurs, swaying enough I lose my balance. I can’t catch myself in time. The dark wood chair skids across the floor. I’m falling. Flailing. My knees hit the tile.
“Fuck! Grace!” AJ shouts, catching me an instant before my head slams into his desk.
“AJ.” My voice is too thin. Filled with so much pain, I can’t look him in the eyes. “What…what is all this? A cult? You think…I was taken by a cult?”
He keeps one arm around me, bracing the other on his desk. “I should have—”
“Don’t.” The word cuts deep, and I’m not sure who it hurts more. “All of this… Oleander? Full moons? You’re talking about my tattoo.”
“No.” After a beat, he releases a slow breath and his shoulders slump. “Maybe.”
Tears blur my vision. I blink hard to force them away. “You didn’t think this was something I might need—or want—to know?”
Guilt churns in his eyes, settles deep into the lines around his mouth. “Grace—”
“No!” I shove against his chest hard enough he releases me, and my ass hits the floor. “You’ve been doin’ all this behind my back? I was in here with you yesterday and didn’t see any of this. You’ve been hiding it this whole time?”
A vein in his temple throbs. He scrubs a hand over his jaw, the only sounds in the room his stubble rasping against his palm and my ragged breathing. There’s no denial. No apology either.
I press a shaking hand to my chest, trying to hold myself together. “I can’t remember most of my life, AJ. The only thing I’ve been sure of since I first felt your arms around me…was you. But you’ve been keeping secrets from me. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”
AJ staggers to his feet, rights the chair, and sets it next to me. He offers me his hand, but I won’t take it. I may feel like I’m on a tilt-a-whirl, but I’m determined to do this on my own.
My right knee buckles the first time I put any weight on it, but I don’t give up. After three tries, I make it into the chair, my chest heaving from the effort.
Leaning his hip against the desk, AJ shoves his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunched.
“I didn’t tell you because… Fuck. I didn’t want to make anythin’ worse,” he admits.
His voice is rough, the edges of it frayed and thin.
So unlike his usual warm, reassuring tone.
“You’ve been fightin’ so damn hard to get through every day, Grace.
To stand. To talk. To play with Belle. And I—” He shakes his head.
“I couldn’t bury you under the weight of all this.
Not when you’re already carryin’ so much. ”
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” I whisper.
“I know.” His gaze lowers to mine. “Every time I thought about tellin’ you, I’d remember how you looked that first morning in Mexico. You were so lost, darlin’. But then you started findin’ yourself bit by bit. You came back to me. I couldn’t risk losin’ you again.”
My chest aches, a battle between fury and something softer—something I can’t quite name—raging in my heart. “So you kept it all hidden.”
“I did,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry, Grace. But I swear to you, I wasn’t tryin’ to shut you out. I’ve been workin’ to piece it together, to make sense of it, so I could give you answers instead of just…all these fucking questions.”
My eyes drift to the board again. The photos. The scribbled notes. The careful lines of string connecting one horror to another. Some of the clippings are curled at the edges. Faded. A few crumpled and smoothed out again.
He’s been doing this for three years. All the days and nights I was lost, he was here. Fighting for me the only way he could.
The sharp edges of my anger dull a little. I spin my wedding ring around on my finger. It’s still loose, but the weight of it grounds me. “You never stopped looking.”
His eyes close, and a shudder runs through him. “Never. Not for one goddamn second, Grace.”
The tears I’ve been fighting spill over, hot and fast. And for the first time since I woke up in that hospital bed, I don’t feel like a ghost of someone who vanished. I feel…seen. Wanted. Remembered.
AJ doesn’t move right away. Like he’s afraid if he does, he’ll break some spell and I’ll run—okay, shuffle—from the room. But eventually, he offers me his hand again. This time, I take it.
He guides me over to his leather couch, his arm tight around my waist. We sink down together. One of his knees cracks, and the sound is so achingly normal that I almost laugh.
“Can I hold you?” he asks.
I hesitate. Just for a second. But then I lean into him, pressing my cheek to his chest. His arms close around me, strong and steady, the scent of leather and soap wrapping me up like a blanket.
I take an easy breath. Then another.
AJ rests his chin against the top of my head. “I should’ve told you, Grace. You deserve better than secrets. Better than me stumblin’ around, tryin’ to protect you the wrong damn way.”
“I stumble enough for the both of us,” I say, and the single moment of lightness helps heal a little of what fractured between us. “But…AJ, we work because we’re honest with one another.”
He sucks in a breath. “Fuckin’ hell. You said almost the same thing to me the mornin’ you disappeared.”
“I did? Was I mad at you then, too?” After a beat, I twist enough to look up at him, my eyes wide. “AJ, were we…fighting that morning?”
His hold tightens, the kind of squeeze that says he’s hanging on as much for himself as for me. There’s so much pain in his gaze, my heart aches for him.