Chapter Thirty-Three
Jamie
The safe in Dad’s bedroom shouldn’t have opened on the first try. But he’d always used Mom’s birthday for passwords and combinations. Why would death change old habits?
I wasn’t prepared for what I found inside.
His will left everything to me, with clear provisions for Hunter.
I cried seeing notes about Hunter’s education fund, monthly contributions made since his birth.
Monthly. For nine years, while I’d convinced myself he didn’t care, while I’d nursed my anger and righteousness, he’d been quietly saving for my son’s future.
The betrayal was mine, not his.
My tears continued when I found my parents’ marriage certificate. Its edges were yellowed, careful folds showing it had been handled often. Trina’s birth record was there. Mine too, tucked beneath theirs like we were still his little girls.
When I understood the business license folded in his will, I dissolved.
So much crying. I’d spent half my time here in tears—more in the past few days than the past ten years. My face felt raw, eyes swollen nearly shut.
And I probably wasn’t done.
Tucked in the back of that tiny safe was a sealed letter. My name scrawled across the envelope in Dad’s messy handwriting. Opening it seemed impossible. Paralyzing. I set it aside, knowing I needed more strength to deal with whatever feelings his words would evoke.
That’s when Eric walked in.
I hadn’t heard his footsteps or seen his shadow, too lost in my flooding eyes and jagged breathing.
But I knew he was there. The air itself changed, warm serenity sweeping over me like a physical blanket.
His presence alone could shield me from pain and sorrow, some invisible force field that made the unbearable suddenly manageable.
We didn’t need words. Never had.
Our connection felt otherworldly, like we’d been magnetized and drawn together by forces beyond understanding. I’d felt it from the beginning but hadn’t recognized it until that moment.
Ever since Eric entered the hospital cafeteria, I’d been spellbound.
That was the moment my soul said, You! Yes, you’re the one!
When he sat with me through my father’s death, caring for me as I fell apart, my soul spoke again.
When he continued comforting me, despite his own troubles, despite being sleep deprived and weary, my heart took notice.
When he wiped my tears and looked at me with understanding no other man had ever possessed, that’s when my heart and soul finally connected.
Yes. He’s the one.
Lying with my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, I’d felt peace for the first time in years.
Despite the whirlwind of emotions, despite life-altering events crashing around us, I could see possibility emerging from the wreckage.
Even knowing the worst could still be ahead—Caleb’s uncertain recovery, the chasm between our lives—I felt we could overcome it.
Together.
When I’d moved over him and he’d moved inside me, it felt like making those plans together. Our physical connection strengthened the emotional bond. No amount of grief could shadow my desire for him. He was comfort, a balm. The connection banished my remaining doubts.
Then, in our post-sex bliss, with me crying from the overwhelming beauty of it, he looked me in the eye and innocently shattered everything.
The connection, the wordless communication, the alignment of our souls. All broken.
Had I imagined it all? Maybe in my grief, I’d grasped on to something that never existed.
Eric was Caleb’s donor. And it made no sense.
Not the medical procedure. That part was clear. It was his decision to hide it from me that I couldn’t figure out. The careful omission. The deliberate withholding.
God, I was angry. It burned through me like wildfire. Unfathomable and un-fucking-stoppable.
“So you’re having surgery tomorrow…doctors are going to stick needles in you and take your bone marrow?”
“It’s not really surgery. It’s an easy procedure on my end.”
“Easy?”
Maybe he heard the anger threading through my tone or saw the doubt written across my face, because Eric pulled away—actually pulled away—swinging his legs over the bed’s edge and turning his back to me.
The gesture felt like a slap. Cold, impersonal, and dismissive.
And it hurt like hell.
“Was it easy to keep it all to yourself?” The accusation spilled out before I could stop it. “Easier not to share details? Easy to put it out of your mind when you had me as distraction?”
“Christ, Jamie.” He whipped around, fury blazing in his eyes. “This isn’t about you. Don’t you get that? This is about me. It was easier not to think about it because considering all the fucked-up, horrible ways things can go wrong, it’s too fucking much to deal with.”
His breath turned ragged, eyes wild. “I don’t want to think about my little brother dying. And I sure as hell don’t want to think about my donated cells being what might kill him.”
My anger deflated like a punctured balloon, all that righteous indignation leaking out in one pathetic whoosh.
Once again, my emotional response had hijacked everything. I’d turned his heartfelt confession into something ugly. His omission hurt, but I’d been thoughtless.
“I’m sorry. That was selfish. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Fuck, Jamie, I get it. I wasn’t honest and it hurt you. I meant to tell you. It just never felt like the right time.”
“It’s okay. I understand why you didn’t.”
“No, you don’t.” His sigh left me breathless, like the room had no air. “All that shit about avoiding my thoughts—it’s not the whole truth.”
The burn in my chest intensified. “What’s the whole truth?”
I gasped for air as I waited. The room felt smaller suddenly, walls pressing in. The silence stretched until I thought I might break from the tension.
“People have a way of romanticizing this kind of thing. They turn it into something it’s not.
Like an act of bravery.” He cringed, his bold blue eyes watering.
“I didn’t want you to look at me that way.
I’m not just the guy who’s saving his brother’s life.
I didn’t want you to fall for me because you thought I was some kind of hero. I wanted you to see me. Just me.”
His gaze held mine, imploring.
“I did see you. I do. And I would have, no matter what. You promised me no more pretending. I trusted that. I told you everything. All my secrets. I trusted you.”
“And now?”
Now? Now I felt like an idiot for believing in fairy tales and soul connections. Now I felt like that na?ve girl who’d gotten pregnant at seventeen, thinking love could conquer everything.
“I still want to trust you, Eric. But I feel like you didn’t give me a chance. You didn’t give me your trust. That hurts, and I don’t know what to do with it.”
“Jamie, everything I said at the hospital—I meant it.” His hand landed on my knee, his touch gentle but possessive. “I want you. I want us. More than just right now. Nothing’s changed.”
“But everything’s changed. My whole world’s upside down and I’m waiting for it to stop spinning.
You say you know what you want, but how can you know, when nothing in our lives is normal?
We’ve both been through so much shit—you’re still going through it.
How can you trust what you’re feeling? How can I trust it too? ”
“You want normal?” His voice turned hard, hand tightening on my knee. “I’ve had normal. Normal fucking sucked. That wasn’t living.”
His intensity didn’t waver. “Things may be chaotic now. It may all feel messed up, but if I never experienced the bad shit, I’d have never gotten the opportunity to experience all the good I’ve had with you.”
His voice broke with sincerity. “This is life, beautiful girl. Truly living and feeling. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it hurts a fuck of a lot. But that’s only made me appreciate it more when it doesn’t.”
God, this man. He was poetic, romantic, and perfect in every way imaginable.
Even though he’d hidden this, I wanted to trust him. Wanted to believe he had some mystical way of knowing everything would be all right. I wanted confidence in myself to get this right. Faith in the future.
But faith couldn’t be manufactured or willed into existence. I had to find it organically, authentically.
And I needed to do that on my own.
My aching chest squeezed tighter as I made excuses to end our conversation, leaving it unresolved. Too tired to think, too worried about Caleb, too upset over my father to make decisions.
Were any of them true? Sure. But they were also convenient shields against having to make any hard choices right now.
Eric didn’t question my deflection. He simply accepted what I offered and wrapped me in his arms, pulling me back down to the mattress like he could hold me together through sheer force of will.
As we lay in that ridiculously small bed, my mind refused to quiet. I didn’t want to lie to him, but sleep remained elusive. Eyes closed, breathing controlled, Eric’s solid warmth engulfing me, I contemplated the last eight days. Our confessions and omissions. The promises made and broken.
But the past wasn’t what haunted me. It was the future—all those unknown variables stretching ahead like an endless maze.
How could something unknown already hurt so fucking bad?