68. Jessica
October, Present Day
Maple Ridge
Nervousness has been churninginside me since Troy told me in the hospital that we need to talk, but he wanted to wait until I was better…that nervousness bubbles over now that we’re alone in my house. I have no clue what he wants to talk to me about.
“It wouldn’t hurt to be honest with him and tell him what you’ve told me. That would be a start.” Robyn’s words repeat in my head like rings on the lake from a thrown stone.
I sit on my couch and stare at the nasty red lines encircling my wrists from the zip ties. They’re healing but will always be one of many scars reminding me of what I’ve survived through. And that’s who I am—a survivor. I am strong. They didn’t break me.
Troy sits next to me and takes my hand. He traces over the red mark on one wrist as if reading my mind. My skin sizzles at his touch, the heat kissing my soul.
“I swear, between you swerving to miss a deer and ending up down an embankment, almost getting yourself killed when you rushed into Violet’s house to save her, and then getting kid—” His deep voice falters and cracks, and he clears his throat. “Then getting kidnapped. And all of that in the first seven months of me knowing you. How about from now on, no more near-death situations?”
A small humorless laugh escapes me. My gaze remains on the red mark Troy’s still tracing over. “Sounds heavenly to me. I’m ready for a normal life…a life free of danger…with…with the man I love and our family.”
Troy’s finger pauses, his contact with my skin unbroken. “Do you mean that?”
My eyes meet his, and for a heartbeat my words are lost, vaporized. “Do you know what I was thinking about during those last moments before I was shot and the police found me?” I block from my mind, for now, the rest of the time I was locked away in the concrete room, and I focus on the dream I clung to for those final minutes, when I thought I was going to die.
Troy shakes his head, his eyes fixed on mine. An emotion I can’t grasp hold of—its essence both rugged and delicate—shines back at me.
“I was thinking about us sitting in front of a fireplace. I was cuddled into your side. And you were reading a story to our two-year-old son. The same thought is what got me through much of my ordeal.”
A hesitant smile tilts the corners of his lips, and then eases into a generous curve of his mouth. “Our son?”
“Yes. Our son.” Shyness heats my cheeks, and I glance down. “He looked like a much younger and adorable version of his daddy.”
“With brown hair like his mommy and daddy?” Troy tugs on a strand of my hair. “I love the new look, by the way.”
Warmth swirls in my belly, and I smile, my gaze returning to his. “Yes, with brown hair like his mommy and daddy.”
“And big beautiful brown eyes?”
“Most definitely beautiful brown eyes.” I couldn’t look away from Troy’s smiling eyes, even if I wanted to. They have me mesmerized, spellbound.
Our heads drift closer. So close that if I lean in a fraction of an inch more, my mouth will press against his. “I love you, Troy. I’ve been in love with you for several months now, but I was too afraid to say anything. Too afraid of what would happen if I did. Instead, I hid behind my feelings and used Amelia, Olivia, and Nova as an excuse as to why I couldn’t be with you. I let my past rule over my feelings for you. I gave it the power it didn’t deserve. But I do want more kids. More kids and you. I very much want you.”
Neither of us moves, the words now out there, ready to heal or destroy, nourish or ruin.
“Jess, you do realize that I love Olivia, right?” His voice is gravel-rough, the kind of voice a woman wants to wake up to, but his words are a kick in the solar plexus, the water dousing the fire.
I jerk away. Oh. I didn’t see that coming. Did Olivia change her mind about Lance? Had Simone and Robyn been wrong about him and Olivia?
Troy gently grabs my arm, preventing me from further widening the gap between us. “I love Olivia, but I’m not in love with her. Never have been and never will be. You’re the one I’m in love with, Jess. Only you.” His lips brush my mouth, testing this new truth between us. “I’m in love with you, Jess, and I have no intention of letting you go again. And if we never have kids, that’s okay with me. As long as I’m with you, that’s all that matters. But…if you pull away again…”
He swallows. “Even knowing you might pull away again when you get scared, love is worth that risk. And if that does happen, I won’t be an asshole and throw it in your face like I did last time. I’m so sorry for how I acted. I was hurt, but that didn’t give me the right to say those things to you.” His eyes—so honest, so raw—search mine, and the truth to his words tugs at my heart.
The memory of his words and my fears, of my assumptions and his accusations is like a slap to my face. Shame and guilt flicker inside me at how much I hurt him. But I don’t give them the chance to burn and obliterate. If we could rewind time, we could stop the hurtful words before they spilled. But maybe they needed to be said. Then our fears could be addressed, allowing us to move on. Together. “I won’t pull away. I promise. I’m done being scared.”
“Promise me if you do ever feel scared and overwhelmed—about us or anything—you’ll talk to me about it.” He skims his thumb along my jaw, my skin tingling in its wake. “You’re not in this alone.”
I nod. “I will. But I’m done running. I’m done giving in to my fears. I love you, Troy. That won’t change.”
He smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. More beautiful than a sunset after years of going without them. His grin warms every part of me.
“If you don’t want to return to your job with my company…” He leaves the rest of the sentence dangling, but I can see in his eyes what he’s trying to say.
“I do want to return, but I also think it would be better if I find another job. It would be healthier for us to have our own space, and part of that means me not working for you. I want to be independent and not reliant on a man again.”
Troy’s quiet for a beat, and I can tell he’s thinking through everything I’ve just told him. “That makes sense. If you want, you can work for me until you find a new job. It’s completely up to you.”
Thanks to the restitution money, I have that option. A lot of women who are trying to start their lives over after escaping a life of abuse don’t have that luxury. They lose everything at the hands of their manipulative partner—their car, their bank cards, their clothes, their home.
Granny had given me an out when she left me her house in her will, but even then, my husband was still in control of me—until he died.
“You aren’t worried you’ll lose clients?” I ask Troy.
“People have realized how wrong they were about you. And those who haven’t…well, I don’t want to work for someone who’s that ignorant. The job is yours for as long as you want it, Jess. And I’ll even be a reference, if you need one, while you’re job hunting.”
“Thank you. And thank you for understanding why I have to do this.”
“I know how important that freedom is to you. And I never want you to feel like you have to give up on what’s important to you.” His lips taste mine once more. The tender touch leaves my heart stuttering for joy. “I’ve decided to start seeing a therapist.”
“You have?” That was the last thing I expected him to say.
“I have. I was so adamant about you seeing Robyn, I ignored the part where I needed to talk to someone about what happened to Colton. Hell, I tried to get him to talk to a therapist when I knew he was struggling, yet I couldn’t see I wasn’t doing much better after he died.”
“And then I came along and added to your load.” I cringe at how much of a weight that must have been on his shoulders.
“No, you were the one thing helping to keep my head above water. But I’m not just seeing a therapist to help me deal with what happened to Colton. I need help knowing how to support you in a way that’s best for both of us.” His thumb caresses my healing cheek. “Especially after what you’ve just gone through. I can’t pretend to have the answers when I don’t. I don’t want to flail about, trying to make things better for you but only making them worse.”
We were both flailing for a long time, both without a life jacket, both trying to cling to driftwood but losing our grip every time. “I think that’s a good idea. All of it.”
“And I think we should go to couples counseling. We’re dealing with a lot of challenges due to your previous marriage. Counseling might help us to better navigate things between us, and make sure I don’t screw anything up.”
His words yank the breath from me and return it in sweet lungfuls, fresh like the crisp mountain air. “I think that’s a great idea.” I run my fingers through the silky strands of his hair. I’m so buoyed by this new future for us, I don’t need therapy to navigate my way through this moment.
But I do it anyway.
What do I see?
This beautiful, kind man in front of me.
What do I hear?
The beating of our hearts, their rhythm united as one.
What do I feel?
Happy. So very, very happy.
Our mouths join, and we deepen the kiss, making up for the six weeks we’ve been apart. Silently promising each other we’ll never be that way again. His kiss makes me feel more alive than I have felt in a long time. He makes me feel more alive.
Troy pulls away ever so slightly, his breath soft on my lips. “I know you told Emily you were fine on your own and don’t need her staying with you while you recover, but I want to be here for you. I want to wake up in the morning and be able to pull you into my arms. I want to be the one to help you while you’re healing.” He lightly brushes his fingers over the bullet wound, barely grazing it.
And my heart jumps at how much I also want everything he described.
The doorbell rings, and I swallow a silent groan at the interruption. Noah’s timing when he rescued me was good—although it would have been better if the cops had arrived several days before I was shot.
His timing now…sucks.