Chapter 20 #3
“Down the hallway on the left,” Oliver said without stopping. He stepped outside and jammed a thumb over his shoulder. “All the way at the back. He’s in the living room. If you get lost, don’t worry—he’ll ring the bell again.”
“Oliver,” I hissed, but he was already jogging down the porch steps, keys jangling in his hand. I watched in a daze as he unlocked some sleek, probably expensive car I didn’t recognize.
“Later,” he called, then slid into the front seat.
Well, it looked like I was on my own.
I stood alone in the entryway for longer than necessary, staring down the hall Oliver had indicated and trying to make my feet move.
The house hummed softly around me—the low thrum of the refrigerator, the distant whir of something mechanical outside, and the faint echo of the television from somewhere deeper in the house.
When JJ rang the bell again, I forced myself to follow the sound.
A minute later, I reached the living room and stopped at the edge of the carpet.
When I spotted JJ, my chest twinged.
He lay stretched across a massive sectional, injured arm braced at his side, in a ratty cutoff and boxers printed with four-leaf clovers.
The coffee table in front of him was littered with dirty dishes, empty soda bottles, and a graveyard of snack wrappers.
Physically, he looked fine. The bandage wrapped around his hand and up his arm was the only obvious sign that something was wrong, but then I saw his face.
The bags under his eyes were deep enough to cast shadows, and the tightness in his jaw told a story the rest of him didn’t.
It took me a moment to understand why the sight unsettled me so much.
He looked like I had back in January.
“Took you long enough,” JJ said, eyes still glued to the TV. A hockey game was on, though it was too early for the NHL season to have started. It was probably a replay of this year’s Stanley Cup Final, which he’d missed while on tour. “I’ve been calling your name for—”
I cleared my throat, and JJ’s head snapped up.
For a fraction of a second, his expression went blank, like his brain had stalled at the sight of me. His lips parted, and he blinked a few times as if trying to decide whether I was real or some fever dream his pain meds had cooked up.
A goal horn blared on the TV, and the spell shattered.
JJ scowled and stabbed the mute button on the remote. “What are you doing here?”
The question landed bluntly, its edges rough enough to make me flinch. I felt the instinct to retreat but willed myself to stay where I was. Instead, I put on a soft smile.
“I’m on a quest.” The simple phrase had become my mantra over the past week.
“A quest,” he repeated.
“It’s a dangerous expedition undertaken by a hero or heroine,” I said, stepping farther into the room. “In this case, I’ve traveled all the way from a distant land called Minnesota to beg pardon from a devilish but handsome rogue who I wronged most egregiously.”
He huffed. “Handsome, huh?”
“With the heart of a knight in shining armor.”
That earned me a snort.
“So…” I prompted when he didn’t say anything else. “What say you? Will you hear my admission?”
Using his good arm, JJ pushed himself into a sitting position with a quiet grunt, then tucked a pillow behind his back. “Since I’ve never received an apology from a princess before, I suppose. But if Her Highness wants to earn my forgiveness, she must answer all my questions truthfully.”
“I can do that.”
He didn’t bother easing into it. “Was it just for your list?”
“No,” I said immediately. “I swear.”
JJ worked his jaw once, like he was chewing on whether he wanted to believe me. “Then why did you imply it?”
I glanced at the TV to give myself a second to breathe.
The screen remained frozen on a player celebrating a goal, his stick raised in triumph.
“I told myself it was because I didn’t want to be selfish with you.
That I didn’t want to be like her.” Now, the difference between us felt thinner than I liked.
While I hadn’t resorted to blackmail, I’d violated JJ’s trust in a similarly intimate way. “Stella was right all along.”
“Say it,” he pressed, even though we knew what the real reason was. And if I was going to stand here and ask for forgiveness, he deserved to hear the truth out loud.
“I was afraid,” I confessed. “I’m still afraid.” Experience had taught me that life didn’t come without fear, only a choice about what to do with it. Some people learned to lived alongside it. Others let it rule, but I was done being one of those people.
He nodded once, like he’d just gotten the confirmation he needed, then patted the empty spot beside him. When I didn’t move right away, JJ arched a brow like the invitation was nonnegotiable. Giving in, I joined him on the couch but left a respectful amount of space between us.
“Are you only here to apologize?” he asked once I was settled.
I let my gaze linger on his bandaged arm, then lifted it to meet his eyes. “I’m here for you, JJ.”
“Why?”
Of all his questions, this was the easiest to answer.
I loved the way JJ met life head-on, choosing motion and joy even when it hurt.
He never tried to shield me from the world or force me into a box; he simply stood beside me and let me decide who I wanted to be.
Against the backdrop of his chaos and kindness, I’d discovered a version of myself shaped by more than just cancer, someone my fifteen-year-old self would be proud of.
“Because,” I said, hoping my eyes conveyed how much he meant to me. “You showed me how to live again when I’d forgotten.”
JJ didn’t rush to speak. He let the moment breathe, and I watched as the question in his eyes changed shape.
“Did you schedule your screening?” he asked, but I heard what he meant beneath it—Are you done running?
“Yes.”
All the tension drained from him at once. “Then okay. I forgive you.”
“Okay?” I echoed. The simplicity of it knocked the air from my lungs. “That’s it?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged like forgiveness was a thing you either did or didn’t. “That’s it.”
I held still, bracing for the fine print. When it didn’t come, the tight place between my lungs loosened, and it felt like exhaling into sunlight.
I had to be sure though. “What about everything I said the morning after—”
“Cara,” he interrupted, a faint smirk threatened at the corner of his mouth. “You might think you’re a great actress, but I knew you were lying. All I wanted was for you to admit it.”
“Seriously?” I reached out and gently whacked him on the shoulder. “You’re such a jerk.”
“Hey!” he exclaimed, clutching himself dramatically. “Be careful. I’m injured.”
Yeah, on his other arm.
“Oliver was right,” I told him. “You’re acting like a baby.”
He bristled, wounded pride on full display. “I can’t believe he would say that. There’s nothing about me that’s baby-like.”
“Technically, he called you a frail Victorian child,” I corrected. “But yeah. That was the sentiment.”
JJ swung his legs over the side of the couch with sudden purpose.
“On your feet, princess. Your quest log has been updated. New objective: Avenge my honor.” He pointed down a different hallway than the one I’d come from, likely the one that led to the bedrooms. “We’ll start by raiding Oliver’s stash of prank supplies.
I’m pretty sure there are still color powder cannons left over from tour. ”
I smiled, but it was wobbly. “Actually,” I said, my voice cracking just enough to make him pause, “I was hoping you could help me with something.”
The shift was instant. He stilled, all joking gone. “What is it?”
“I did more than schedule my screening.” My body tipped toward his before I realized I was moving. “I got the tests done last week. My appointment with my oncologist is on Monday, but the results are available online.”
“And?” he asked quietly.
“I’m terrified to look,” I admitted. “Will—will you do it with me?”
He gave my knee a brief squeeze. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab my laptop.”
When he came back, JJ climbed into the corner of the sectional and tugged me between his legs, fitting us together like it was easy. The rightness of it made my throat tighten. Once I was settled, he logged in and handed me the computer without ceremony.
As I pulled up my health portal, my hands betrayed me.
They shook hard enough that I had to stop and press them against my thighs.
It took me three tries to type my password because my fingers wouldn’t cooperate, each keystroke feeling louder than it should have been.
The page loaded painfully slow, every second stretching—and suddenly, there it was: a link to my blood work.
All I could do was stare at the screen.
JJ slipped an arm around my waist and leaned in, his voice low and steady beside my ear. “Hey. Whatever that says, I’m right here.”
“No matter what?” I whispered.
“Always.”
The promise grounded me.
Taking a deep breath, I clicked on the results.