Chapter 20
Ella
The sleeping arrangements had been decided quickly after dinner.
With so many people involved in our protection, space was at a premium.
Connor and Mia had arrived just after sunset, with Kat and Wren.
They would be joining Declan and Rory at my house next door, keeping watch from there since it offered a clear view of Jake’s property.
They also brought additional supplies, food, and weapons that I tried not to think about too much.
Kane, Kori, and Lana would be staying with us, camped out on the floor of the great room, along with Mikhail and a newly released Caleb from the hospital.
“You’ll take my room,” Jake had insisted, brooking no argument despite my protests. “Nora can have the guest room next door. I’ll be fine on the couch in my study.”
Now, as I settled into Jake’s bed, I couldn’t help but breathe in his scent that lingered on the pillows—cedar and bergamot. The sheets were softer than I’d expected, the room tidier, no bachelor mess here, just simple, clean lines and practical furniture. So like him.
I heard soft voices downstairs—Jake and Kane. If I had to guess what they were talking about, it would be who was on watch first and how to keep Nora and me safe. Ever since arriving here, that’s all anyone talked about, or so it seemed.
I wanted her to sleep with me in this massive bed.
To keep my mind off everything and hold my daughter while we both slept.
But she had other plans, insisting that she was a big girl, she had taken the room next door, and had fallen asleep almost immediately.
I’d checked on her twice already, watching her chest rise and fall, reassuring myself that she was safe, that we both were.
Despite my bone-deep exhaustion, sleep escaped me. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the ice crack beneath my feet, felt the shocking cold of the water closing over my head. I tossed and turned, trying to find a position that didn’t make my still-sore body ache.
Eventually, I must have drifted off, because suddenly I was back in the river.
The ice was breaking, water rushing in, filling my lungs.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find the surface.
Nora was calling for me, but I couldn’t reach her.
The current pulled me deeper, darkness closing in from all sides.
“Ella! Ella, wake up!”
I came to with a gasp, my throat raw, my body drenched in sweat. Jake was leaning over me, his hands on my shoulders, his face tight with concern. The bedside lamp cast a warm glow across his features.
“You were screaming,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. He was wearing only sweatpants, his chest bare, his hair mussed.
“Was I that loud that you heard me all the way downstairs in your study?”
He chuckled. “I was sleeping out in the hallway.”
“The hallway? On the floor?!”
He nodded, a sheepish grin on his lips. “No worse than sleeping on the ground under the stars. You had a nightmare?”
I nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in my throat. My heart was still racing, the terror of the dream clinging to me like a second skin.
“The river,” I managed finally. “I couldn’t get out.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed, one hand still on my shoulder, steadying me. “You’re safe now. You got out. You’re here.”
“Nora?” I asked, suddenly panicked that my screams had woken her.
“I haven’t heard anything from her room, so I imagine she’s still asleep,” he assured me. “That kid could probably sleep through a tornado.”
A small, shaky laugh escaped me. “She gets that from me. Usually, anyway.”
Jake’s thumb moved in small circles against my shoulder, the touch soothing. “Do you want some water? Tea?”
I shook my head, not wanting him to leave. “Just... stay? For a minute?”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. “Of course.”
We sat in silence, his presence gradually calming me. The nightmare receded, replaced by an acute awareness of him—the warmth of the skin of his forearm under my palm, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the way the lamplight caught in his dark hair.
“Sorry I woke you,” I said finally.
“Don’t be.” His voice was soft in the quiet room. “I wasn’t sleeping much anyway.”
I looked up at him, really looked, and saw the exhaustion etched in the lines around his eyes, the shadows beneath them. “You need rest, too, Jake. You can’t keep taking watch shifts and sleeping on couches and floors.”
“I’ve slept in worse places,” he said with a small smile.
“That doesn’t mean you should have to.” I shifted over, making space beside me on the bed. “There’s plenty of room here.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Ella, I don’t think—”
“Just to sleep,” I clarified, though even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t all I wanted. “You need proper rest if you’re going to keep us safe.”
He hesitated, clearly torn. “Are you sure?”
In answer, I lifted the covers in invitation. After another moment’s pause, he slid in beside me, careful to maintain a few inches of space between us. I reached over and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness save for the moonlight filtering through the curtains.
We lay there in silence, both hyper-aware of the other’s presence. I could feel the heat of his body, hear the soft sound of his breathing. The bed suddenly felt smaller than it had a moment ago.
“Better than the floor?” I asked, my voice sounding too loud in the quiet room.
“Much,” he admitted. Then, after a pause: “How are you feeling? Really.”
I considered the question. “Physically? Sore. Tired. But better than I should be, considering.”
“And otherwise?”
I sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “Confused. Angry. Scared.” I turned my head to look at him, finding his eyes already on me in the dim light. “Grateful.”
“Grateful?” he repeated, his voice low.
“To be alive,” I said. “To have Nora. To have you.”
His breath caught audibly. “Ella...”
“I meant what I said earlier, Jake. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The darkness made it easier to be brave, to say the things I might not in the light of day. “These past weeks—you’ve been my rock.”
He was silent for a long moment, and I worried I’d said too much. Then his hand found mine beneath the covers, his fingers with mine.
“When I saw you go through that ice,” he said, his voice tight with remembered fear, “my whole world stopped. All I could think was ‘not again.’”
“Again?” I asked softly.
He took a deep breath. “My wife and daughter. They died in a car accident. The car went off a bridge into a river.” His grip on my hand tightened. “I couldn’t save them. But with you... I had to. I couldn’t lose someone else to the water.”
My heart ached for him, for the pain he’d carried alone all this time. “Jake, I’m so sorry.”
“When I pulled you out,” he continued, as if needing to get the words out now that he’d started, “when you weren’t breathing... I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
I turned onto my side to face him fully, our joined hands resting between us. “Despite having hypothermia yourself, you didn’t give up. You and Declan brought me back.”
“I couldn’t let you go, because if you hadn’t made it, I was diving right back in that water,” he whispered. “I’m not sure I can ever let you go now.”
The raw honesty in his voice made my breath catch. Without thinking, I reached out with my free hand to touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw, the slight stubble rough beneath my fingertips.
“Then don’t.”
He caught my wrist gently, his eyes searching mine in the darkness. “Ella, you’ve been through hell. Your ex-fiancé is back from the dead. Your daughter just found out her father is alive. This isn’t the right time for—”
“For what?” I challenged softly. “For feeling something real? Something good in the middle of all this chaos?”
His thumb stroked the inside of my wrist, sending shivers up my arm. “I don’t want to be something you regret when the dust settles.”
“Jake Brennen,” I said, shifting closer until there were mere inches between us, “you could never be a regret. Not to me.”
I saw the moment his resolve crumbled—the slight parting of his lips, the darkening of his eyes. He released my wrist to cup my face, his touch achingly gentle.
“If you want me to stop,” he murmured, “at any point, just say the word.”
In answer, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his. Unlike our first kiss—tentative, questioning—this one ignited immediately. His hand slid from my face to the back of my neck, drawing me closer as his mouth moved against mine with increasing urgency.
I gasped when his tongue traced the seam of my lips, opening to him without hesitation. The kiss deepened, his taste flooding my senses—coffee and bourbon. My hands found their way to his bare chest, palms flat against his warm skin, feeling his heart thundering beneath my touch.
He broke the kiss to trail his lips along my jaw, down the column of my throat. “God, Ella,” he breathed against my skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
“How long?” I asked, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.
His lips found a sensitive spot below my ear, making me arch against him. “Since the first time I saw you at the bakery,” he admitted. “Flour on your forehead, laughing with Helen.”
The thought that he’d noticed me, wanted me, for all that time, sent a thrill through me. I wound my arms around his neck, pulling him closer until our bodies were flush against each other. The thin fabric of my t-shirt did nothing to disguise the hard planes of his chest against my breasts.
His hand slid under the hem of my shirt, callused fingers skimming the sensitive skin of my waist. “Is this okay?” he asked.
“More than okay,” I assured him, guiding his hand higher until it covered my breast.
He groaned softly when he realized I wasn’t wearing anything beneath the shirt, his thumb brushing over my nipple, drawing it into a tight peak. The sensation sent liquid heat pooling between my thighs.