CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jovana
I was floating. Drifting through the thickness of clouds, my body completely weightless. There were no sensations aside from happiness. I felt like a living, walking smile. As if that emotion had been wrapped in a bow and were radiating through my body.
But as I was soaring through the fluff, there was something else.
Something that began to surface through the clouds.
Something . . . dark.
Cold.
That—suddenly—veered toward . . . ouch.
Oh God, it was so painful.
And I was bouncing between the two.
Until I couldn’t.
Until my eyes were fighting to open, and my lungs were filling, and I was gripping something warm and dense, and I didn’t know what that thing was—
“Hi.”
One word was all I heard.
I blinked.
Hard.
And a face came into focus.
Eyes that were the most beautiful shade of green.
A sharp nose, thick lips.
A beard that I remembered.
That I’d run my fingers through so many times before.
I wanted to respond.
I tried to peel my lips apart.
But they were dry, like they’d been cemented shut.
It took every bit of strength I had to separate them. And once I broke that thick seal, my tongue felt like lead. “Grayson ...”
“Shhh.”He was close. Enough so that I could smell his cologne. A citrus that was so crisp and clean, I felt like I was back in the clouds again. “You don’t have to talk. Save your energy. I’m right here. I’m not leaving your side.” Something tightened its hold on my hand, and I realized it was his fingers gripping me. “You’re okay.”
Okay?
Why wouldn’t I be okay?
Why does it feel like something is extremely wrong?
Why do I hurt?
Where am I?
I glanced up and there was a long fluorescent light above my head. Walls that were pale, almost sickly colored. A door partially open with just enough light inside that I could make out a toilet and sink.
And there was beeping, a noise so loud it made the aches pound.
I turned my head to look at my side, each inch like a clock’s second hand, the gears in my neck clicking as though they were ungreased.
But it brought me to the source of the beeping, which was a monitor that showed different lines and numbers.
And on the other side, a stand with several IV bags.
“You’re in the hospital, Jovana.”
My tongue was too heavy.
But my eyes widened. My chest, as tight as it was, began to rise.
“You’re okay.”
Okay.
There was that word again.
The one that still didn’t feel right.
“I don’t know how much you remember—if you remember anything at all—but you were out for a walk,” he said.
A walk.
That memory was a bit fuzzy, but snippets flashed through my head of my mom’s smile and the dress I’d chosen and the champagne the sales associate had poured to celebrate, and then things got even hazier, but I remembered the sweat beading across my forehead while I’d been walking.
Why couldn’t I recall returning home from the walk?
“You were only about six blocks from our condo when a woman ran a red light. In doing so, she caused a series of events, starting with a biker who was in the crosswalk at the time. To get out of the car’s way, he veered into the sidewalk. He didn’t turn enough, and he clipped you on your side. Since he was behind you, there was no way you could have seen him or moved out of the way. You had absolutely no warning.”
I mashed my lips together, hoping to find enough liquid to move my tongue.
To respond.
To ask the questions that were pouring in so fast, I was overflowing.
“There were multiple witnesses,” he continued, “and one was a woman who stayed with you until the ambulance arrived. She even came to the hospital to check on you, and she told me the whole story.” He pushed the hair off my forehead, his fingers staying there, rubbing. “The impact of the bike punctured your spleen and caused you to bleed internally, which was repaired during surgery once you arrived at the hospital. That, along with the two ribs you broke, will take some time to heal, and you’re going to have to take it easy. Your X-rays also showed a broken wrist, so that’s been cast.” His hand moved to my cheek. “The doctor says that as long as your vitals and blood work continue to stay stable, I’ll be able to take you home in a day, two max.”
A punctured spleen?
Two broken ribs?
A broken wrist?
I hadn’t noticed the thick cast when I’d scanned the room, but it was there. Wrapped from the middle of my hand all the way to my elbow.
This was . . . so much.
“You’ll have the cast on for at least six weeks,” he told me.
Six weeks.
Why did it feel like something was happening within that time frame?
A nest of thoughts began to build in my mind, each layer weaving more pieces together until it hit me.
“Wedding,” I croaked the second my tongue allowed me to.
“Yes, baby. You’ll have the cast on for the wedding.”
Emotion hit me out of nowhere.
In my eyes.
On my cheeks.
But it didn’t stay long.
Grayson was sweeping away the wetness, cleaning what had fallen and stopping what was about to. “Listen to me, Jovana. You’re alive. You’re going to fully recover. That’s what matters. Things could have been so much worse. Whether you have a cast on for the wedding or not, you’re going to look breathtakingly beautiful.”
I ached.
Not because there would be an ugly cast in all our photos, but because this had happened, because he was here to tell me the story, because he was under contract to marry me.
I loved this man.
I loved the way he stroked my cheek, collecting my tears, absorbing my emotion like he was trying to suck the sadness out of my body.
I loved that his eyes were the first thing I saw when I opened mine.
But did he love me?
“I want you to sleep.” He kissed my forehead. “The only way you’re going to get stronger is by resting your body, so that’s what you need to do.”
Sleep.
Something I couldn’t imagine doing right now.
But with my eyelids so heavy, that was something I couldn’t imagine fighting for a second longer.
Still, I had things to say.
Things I needed to get out.
Questions I wanted answered.
But my tongue—it hadn’t lightened. It felt swollen and weighted, like an extra limb that didn’t even fit in my mouth.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here. I’m not leaving you.”
“Are you in any pain?” Grayson asked from the open door of the back seat, where he stood just outside, an arm around my back and another on my uncast hand to help me get out of the SUV.
Even though the medication was helping, the pain was still present.
In my wrist.
On the side where I’d fallen, which was covered in dark-purple bruises.
In my abdomen, my ribs, and beyond, like I’d been hit with a hammer.
“I’m okay.” I carefully turned toward the door and extended my legs across the side of the seat, my feet reaching for the ground, anticipating the sidewalk.
Once my toes touched down, I winced.
“Will you let me carry you inside?”
Something I’d adamantly refused when the driver had pulled up to our building and again when Grayson had opened my door.
“No.” I took a breath and the motion—even though there was none aside from my lungs filling—felt like a jackhammer was cutting through my ribs. “The doctor says I need to walk as much as possible.”
After two nights in the hospital, I had finally been discharged. My parents and Grayson had discussed this morning whether I should stay at their new apartment or Grayson’s condo, like I wasn’t in the hospital room while they’d talked about this or capable of making my own decisions.
There was no decision.
I was staying at home with my fiancé.
Grayson hadn’t left my side once during the entire time I’d been in the hospital. He slept in the chair next to my bed, used the restroom in my room. He had the cafeteria bring him a tray when they delivered mine and had the guys bring him some fresh clothes.
When I closed and opened my eyes, he was always there.
I understood my mom’s desire to want me under her roof, and I appreciated Grayson’s insistence that he wanted the same. It was an amazing feeling to be cared for by everyone I loved.
But I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
I just needed to get past this sidewalk and through the lobby and into the elevator to go upstairs.
“Shit,” I hissed after my first step.
“Jovana . . .”
“Don’t you dare,” I warned as he bent down to lift me. “I can do this.” I glanced at the doorman, who had the lobby door already ajar for us. It was only ten feet away. “I have to do this ... for me.” I squeezed Grayson’s hand.
With his arm around my waist, I slowly lifted a foot, holding my breath as I placed it back down, doing the same with the other leg, carefully making my way toward the door.
“Great to see you back, Ms. Winters,” the doorman said. “I hope you start to feel better soon.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
As we passed through the entrance, Grayson said, “Jovana’s parents will be stopping by later to bring lunch. Please send them right up. No need to call and notify us first.”
“Will do, Mr. Tanner.”
Grayson was bearing as much of my weight as I would give him, which I tried to keep to a minimum, but the closer we got to the elevator, the less energy I had.
Just a few days ago, I could walk miles without getting winded.
Now the journey from the curb to the elevator felt like a trek up Everest.
“You’re almost there. You’re doing great.”
Great, no.
But encouragement was so out of the norm for him that I clung to his words and tried to focus on the remaining steps, estimating how many I had left, celebrating in my head every time I completed one.
The relief was immense when I crossed into the elevator and leaned my back against the side wall, giving me the perfect view to see the screen and watch the numbers climb once we passed each floor.
But as soon as Grayson pressed the button for the penthouse, he obviously wasn’t pleased with my placement, and he slipped in behind me, holding me against his chest.
He wanted to be my wall.
To hold me up.
To make sure I didn’t fall.
Oh God.
What did I do to deserve this man?
His care?
His attention?
I laced my fingers through his. “Thank you.”
I wanted to say more.
I wanted to tell him how much I loved him.
But I kept my lips pressed together and took in the warmth from his chest and the strength of his arms as they enveloped me.
He leaned his face into my neck, and I felt him breathe me in. An act so subtle but so powerful.
Before Grayson, I didn’t know the weight of an inhale, the heaviness of an exhale.
But his were as meaningful as words.
I felt them.
Through every part of me.
And when the door finally slid open, he helped me take the short walk to the front of the condo, where he waved his fob and guided me inside.
I filled my lungs with a scent I’d missed. “Home.” I closed my eyes for just a second. “God, it feels good to say that.”
“Does bed sound as good to you, because that’s where I’m taking you.” He walked me through the foyer and into the living room.
I glanced up at him just as we rounded toward the kitchen. “No ... I need a bath first.”
Actually, first I needed to catch my breath, so I halted us by the island.
“You’re kidding?” He groaned.
Since I became conscious, all I’d been thinking about was dunking myself in some hot, bubbly water.
My skin begged to be clean. My muscles screamed for the heat.
I needed to wash this accident off me and my hair.
“I’m far from kidding. It’s the only thing I want. Then bed. I promise.” As I thought about it more, I added, “Will you join me?”
He let out a small chuckle. “An offer I can’t say no to.”
“Well, you could.”
“But I wouldn’t.”
“I have one more request.”
“You’re really trying to test my patience, aren’t you.” He winked, but his voice was still a growl.
I attempted a smile before I glanced into the kitchen, seeing the cabinet where the mugs were stored, only about five feet from where we were standing. “I need some tea.”
“I’ll get it. Don’t move.”
He opened the cabinet, and while I didn’t want to move, I did want to hold on to something, so I shuffled toward the island. My hands were just wrapping around the edge of the stone when a box on the counter caught my attention.
It wasn’t the shape or the size.
It was that it was open, that it had been addressed to me.
That Jonathan Myers was listed as the sender.
The director of Boston College’s newspaper.
Oh fuck.
My hands trembled as I lifted the box, and the moment I had it in the air, I noticed there was something underneath it.
A plaque.
With my name and the school newspaper at the top.
A number that showed how many times the article had been viewed.
Followed by the full article with Anonymous under the byline.
If the box was open, the plaque already pulled out, that could only mean one thing ...
As I glanced up from the plaque, Grayson was looking at me, frozen, with a mug in his hand.
“Jovana ...” He took a breath, and I watched him think of his next words. Silence beating between us, like the wheels of a bike. “I was going to seal it back up and pretend I never saw it, but the hospital called, and I left, and I haven’t been back home.”
Although his voice wasn’t a growl, his statement was raw and emotional.
I couldn’t tell whether he was leaning toward anger.
Hurt.
Sadness.
I just knew that everything inside me was throbbing, and it wasn’t because of the accident.
It was from the guilt.
That I’d been holding.
“You know it was me,” I whispered.
He nodded.
Of course he knew. Why else would Boston College send a plaque, if I hadn’t been the one who had written the article?
“Grayson ...” I pressed a hand against my chest to slow my heart down, hoping the thumping wouldn’t break through my skin. “I’m sorry.” When I sucked in more air, it sounded like a gasp. “I’m so fucking sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have written that article. I was just so hurt and—”
“Answer me one thing.” He leaned his back into the counter. “Were you going to tell me before the wedding?”
My eyes were burning. Like my pupils had been replaced with rocks of lava, I couldn’t stop the drips from rimming my eyelids. “I don’t know.” I glanced down at my hands. “Shit, I honestly don’t know. I wanted to, but I didn’t have the nerve.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew it would make you hate me.” I slowly gazed up at him. His expression made the knot in my throat double in size. It wasn’t a look of shock that stared back at me. It was the look of someone who had anticipated this answer. And that hurt even more. “Because I was afraid that if I told you the truth, I would completely lose you ... and I wasn’t even sure I fully had you in the first place.”
“Jovana—”
“No”—I swallowed—“I have to get this out.” I flattened my hands on the stone, bracing myself for what I should have admitted a long time ago. “We’re in this for twelve months. That’s all that’s been promised to me. Twelve months with the man I’m completely in love with. And after that, you have every right to walk away.”
Why did his stare hurt this badly?
Why did it feel like we were already over?
“Since the moment I fell in love with you, Grayson, that’s what I’ve been terrified of. That this isn’t what you want, that I won’t be enough, that in the end I’ll be left with a shattered heart.” I held up my hand as he attempted to speak. “You told me not to have feelings for you. Not to fall for you. Not to think of the future because there wouldn’t be one. And I realize things between us have changed, that you’ve admitted that you care about me, but is it enough for you to stay married to me?” I shook my head. “I question that ... far too often.” The movement caused the tears to fall past my chin and I wiped them. “I’ve told you, I want the fairy tale. I want what my parents have. I want that kind of love that isn’t based on money or materialistic things or vacations or success or work or even interests. My parents couldn’t be more opposite. But what they have is a love that is deeper than anything I’ve ever seen. I want that with you.” With the wetness passing my lips, I licked it off, immediately tasting the saltiness of my tears. “There have been moments, like today, like in the elevator, like the way you breathed me in, that I think we’re there. That we want the same thing. That your feelings are as strong as mine. And then there are moments that I sense your views on marriage are bigger than us.”
I pushed against my chest again, the pain so deep, but that didn’t stop me.
It didn’t prevent me from opening my heart.
And it didn’t inhibit me from speaking my last piece of truth.
“I can’t handle an end. Not with the way I feel about you. If that’s what’s going to happen after the year is up, then call off the wedding. Break me now before you completely destroy me.” I balled my fingers into a fist. “I’ll give back every dime. I’ll tell my followers I jumped in too quickly and I’ll spin the story so you and Hooked come out on top and I’m at fault. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it. Just don’t let me walk down the aisle if the groom standing under our beautiful, flowered arch isn’t completely in love with me.”