Chapter Sixty-Seven
When Jane awoke in the hospital with machines whirring and beeping around her, she needed a minute to figure out where she was—and why.
Vaguely, she grasped at pieces until she recalled enough to understand.
Her last memory was of Dax holding a cloth to her face for a second time.
They’d tried to kill her—they’d do it again.
Panic gripped Jane. She struggled upright and opened her eyes. “Chance.”
He gripped her hand in his. His lips moved.
She could hear him—but couldn’t, as though he were far away. What had they done to her? “I can’t hear you.”
He squeezed her hand as he spoke to her again. Fear climbed in her chest. She clung to him and then saw the gauze bandages around her wrists. Her head pounded, and her ears rang loudly.
“Chance.” Jane shook his hand. “My ears. My arms.”
He climbed onto the bed and tucked her under his arm, petting her, soothing her like he believed it would be fine. Tears flooded her eyes and Jane buried her face into his neck.
“You’re okay,” he said.
She jerked back. She’d heard that. Or, had she only felt the vibrations in his throat? Either way, she could hear a never-ending ringing.
He reached for a small pencil and notepad lying on the table by his chair, then Chance jotted a note and gave it to her.
Are your ears ringing?
She nodded.
It took him another second to write out a response.
Doc said that would happen. It will stop.
“Can you hear me?” she asked, unable to regulate how loud her voice should be.
He grinned and nodded.
“They tried to kill me.” Jane glanced at her wrists. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t—”
Chance cupped her cheeks. “I know.”
She understood and, relieved, Jane didn’t have the energy to care about how or why; just that she would be safe.
“Jane.” He pushed her hair back and then, slowly, made sure she understood. “I love you.”
Her heart flooded. “I love you, too. With my whole heart.”
He reached for the notebook and pencil again, turned the page, and wrote her a longer message. After a quick re-read, he handed it to her.
In her head, she read his words as though she could hear his voice.
I was wrong before. There wasn’t a right or wrong time to tell you that I love you. I love you—at work, in a hospital bed, anywhere, good or bad. I will always love you.
She nodded. Tears slipped free. “Always.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Good.” He took the book back and penciled another message. She laughed, swiping away her exhausted-but-happy tears.
With a sweet, goofy grin on his face, Chance stood after he handed the note back.
Jane glanced down. He’d drawn… a ring. She looked up, but he dropped onto one knee.
“Chance!” Then she read his words through a sheen of blurry joy.
I’ll do this again—out loud and with your pick of rings. But I can’t wait to ask you to spend the rest of your life with me. I’ll be your family. I’ll be your whole damn world. Marry me.