Epilogue #2
I tell her about the time I tried to escape. About running so far and so long in the pouring rain. About being so cold, I couldn’t feel my cheeks. About Malone and Vincent catching me, and what came next.
“Eight…uh…” I try three times to finish the sentence, but I can’t form the words. So I make the sign for “days,” then spell out B-O-X.
The sob that tears from Parker’s throat cuts through me like a knife. I scoot to the edge of my chair and wrap my arms around her.
“It’s so stupid,” she whimpers, clinging to me like I’m the only thing anchoring her to this reality.
“I was only in there for a day. One day. But you, Grace…God.” Her voice breaks, and she sucks in a jagged breath, like she’s trying to hold the rest inside, but her body betrays her—trembling, rigid, desperate.
I smooth my palm along her back until I feel her start to relax, just a fraction.
“You’re not weak,” I whisper against her hair, thankful the words don’t shatter on my tongue. “You’re here. That matters.”
She shakes her head, pulling back, her eyes wet and unfocused.
“It’s not just the box. It’s what came with it.
What I knew was waiting.” Her throat works, a convulsive swallow, and then the truth rips out of her, ragged and raw.
“I knew what Prophet planned for me. And I…I lost it. I thought, if you couldn’t escape, if someone as strong as you couldn’t get out, then what chance did I have?
“I keep thinking it shouldn’t be this hard. Twenty-four hours. You survived so much worse. But the ringing in my ears, the silence when it stopped, the way I thought I was disappearing into myself—I don’t know how to come back from that.”
There’s so much I want to say to her. But I know my voice won’t hold. Not with something this important. So I grab the notebook on the table and start to write. “You did come back. You survived. And you don’t have to go through this alone.”
She presses her lips together, then lets out a shuddering breath. “I’ve been thinking about seeing a therapist,” she admits. “Haven’t told Hardison yet. He’ll fuss. But I think I need it.”
I nod, my throat aching with pride. With relief. With the knowledge that we’re both still fighting. And I tell her how strong I think she is. How important she is to me. How I’m always here. Even if sometimes it has to be with a piece of paper and a pen.
Eventually, Belle demands Parker cuddle her, and it heals us both just that much more.
Later, when Parker stands at the door, her bag slung over her shoulder, I pull her into a hug. She clings tighter than I expect, tighter than she probably realizes. When I finally let go, her eyes are a little less haunted, a little more alive.
“See you soon,” she murmurs.
I nod, watching her walk down the path. My heart feels steadier, my feet firmer beneath me. Because I know, whatever comes next, the bond between us—the pain, the survival, the sisterhood forged in fire—will keep us both moving forward.
AJ’s arm slides around me the moment I crawl into bed, pulling me into the solid heat of his body. His chest is warm against my cheek, his scent filling my lungs.
And that’s when I break.
The tears rush up so quickly, I don’t have time to stop or hide them. My body convulses, ugly sobs tearing out of me like I’ve been split open. I clutch at his arms, like if I don’t hold on tight enough, I’ll lose him, lose this…lose us.
AJ doesn’t flinch. He rocks me like he’s done this a thousand times. Like he’ll do it a thousand more if that’s what I need. His breath stutters against my temple, and I realize he’s crying too. Not the quiet, controlled kind. Real tears, hot and wet against my skin.
“Grace,” he murmurs, voice raw but steady. His arms band tighter around me. “I’ve got you, darlin’. I’ve got you. Let it out.”
I can’t stop. I don’t want to. Weeks—years—of holding myself together unravel all at once. I can only manage broken fragments of words. “Cold. Alone. Lost.” My throat shreds more with each syllable.
His hand cradles the back of my head, his lips brushing my temple. “Not anymore. You’re not alone. You’re not lost. You’re home. With me.”
I sob harder at the conviction in his voice, but the scent of him, the strength of him, roots me. His heart thunders under my cheek, steady and alive. He’s alive. I’m alive.
When I can finally speak, my throat raw, I whisper, “I don’t know how to deserve this. You. Us.”
AJ eases back just enough to tilt my chin up. His eyes are wet, shining in the low light, but steady as always. “You don’t earn love, Grace. You give it. You live it. And we’ve both bled for it. So don’t you dare tell me you don’t deserve it.”
A fresh wave of tears blurs him, but this time they’re not grief. I reach up with shaking hands and frame his face.
“I love you,” I choke out, the words raw and desperate.
He touches his forehead to mine. Our tears mix together, and we cling to one another. “I love you more than anything in this world,” he says. “More than my own life.”
His mouth finds mine then, and the kiss is salty, messy, trembling, but so very, very real.
Suddenly, I need us to be closer. As close as two people can possibly be. I need proof that this is real. That we’re here together.
You’re home. You’re safe. You’re loved.
His words always come back to me when I need them most.
I tug at him with desperate hands, and he comes willingly, trailing kisses over my skin, worshipping me, telling me how beautiful I am. How strong. How perfect.
The need in me shifts, the ache so sharp, there’s only one thing that can possibly fill it.
My tears won’t stop, not even when he slides deep inside me.
They pour from me as freely as my love for him.
Each sob is a release. Each caress stitches me back together.
He whispers to me the whole time—my name, his love, promises he doesn’t have to make but does anyway because he knows I need to hear them.
When we come together, I collapse against him, utterly spent, but lighter. Freer. He draws slow circles along my spine, and for the first time in so long, my entire being stills. But it’s not the quiet of loneliness. It’s the quiet of peace.
“You’re my heart, Grace,” he murmurs against my hair. “Every beat, it’s yours.”
I smile through the last of my tears. “Always.”
His arms tighten around me, his breath steady and sure. I drift into sleep with him wrapped around me. And for once, the shadows don’t come for me. There’s only love.
Thank you for reading Stone’s Throw.