Chapter 24
Eternity, if I Have To
Jacob
She doesn’t see it, but my whole fucking body fractures when she says my name like that. Weak. Shaking. Terrified.
I want to tear their throats out just for putting that look in her eyes. But it’s not their fault. They’re two of my best detectives and—if anything—I’m grateful it’s them managing the case.
Summer is trembling with fear. I want to crush my mouth against hers just to stop the sound of it. To give her an escape, to give her some of my strength.
Navarro clears her throat, glancing at me. “Sheriff, do you want us to move forward with the hospital interview once the patient’s stable?”
“No. Hold off until I say otherwise. Priority is getting Benny to talk and that will only happen if Summer goes in.” I turn my face away from her, hiding the inner turmoil it causes me when I think of her and him in the same room, especially now I know he could be linked to Moore.
“I want eyes on him every hour of the day. Anyone comes to visit; I want their plates logged.”
“Yes, Sheriff,” Navarro says, already thumbing notes into her phone.
Maddox nods. “We’ll rotate shifts with Harper and Rio. We’ll make sure he’s never out of sight.”
My hand twitches toward them. “Good. And if he so much as blinks, I want to know about it. Understood?”
“Understood,” Maddox answers without a hint of a smile this time.
Summer grips my arm, nails biting through fabric. She doesn’t realize she’s doing it.
I tilt my head down, catch her wide, wet eyes. She’s breaking. Just the name Jackson Moore has her in a frenzy.
I swear to God, if Benny… if whoever-the-fuck-he-is… had anything to do with this—if he knew Moore’s escape was coming—then I’ll finish what I started in my driveway. ICU bed or not.
The detectives finally peel off, their polished shoes clicking across linoleum until the doors swallow them whole.
The silence left behind is suffocating. Summer’s nails are still hooked in my arm, pointed little crescents through the fabric. I catch her wrist before she can speak, my fingers closing around it—not harsh, just enough to steer her.
A doctor knocks on the door, needing to use the room for his clinic.
I don’t want her back in the waiting room. I don’t want the world to see her like this.
“This way,” I mutter, pulling her down a narrow side corridor away from the hospital room and the eyes waiting there.
She stumbles once, catching herself, her bare shoulders grazing the sterile walls as we move.
Her hair comes loose from her ponytail—dry now, curling in loose, untamed waves.
The scent of her shampoo clings faintly to the air, something soft and familiar in a place that smells like bleach and steel.
She stops so suddenly that I almost collide with her. Her back hits the wall, and before I can think, my hands plant themselves flat beside her head, caging her in. She looks up at me—eyes swollen, cheeks flushed. And even broken like this, she’s achingly beautiful—raw, unguarded, real.
“I need to know everything about my parents’ deaths,” she says, voice shredded to ribbons. “I need to hear it from you. Tell me everything. I don’t want to hear it from the cops.”
I drag in a breath, press my forehead to hers, trying to hold her still, to stop the tremor running through both of us. “Summer, not here. Not like this—”
“No.” Her tone cuts, the crack of authority in it cutting through the air. “You will tell me. And you’ll tell me now.”
I exhale hard, running a hand through my hair, searching for words that won’t destroy her more than she already is. But the memory rises up anyway—vivid, merciless.
Smoke curling off blackened beams. The hiss of heat eating glass.
“Whoever did it got in through a back dining room window,” I start, my voice rough.
“Your parents were in the sitting area. The fire started in the kitchen—it was deliberate.” My throat tightens, bile clawing up as I force the words out.
“They both had a single shot to the head. Clean. Quick. They wouldn’t have felt a thing. ”
Her breath shudders, tears streaming freely now, but I keep going, steady, the words scraping like gravel from my mouth.
“The fire department got there before it spread that far. It wasn’t meant to destroy anything.
It was meant to be seen. A beacon to draw in the authorities.
” I pull in another ragged breath. “They wanted us to see it, Summer. They wanted us to know it wasn’t an accident. ”
She lets out a quiet sob, her head collapsing against my chest. For a moment, neither of us speaks—the room holding its breath around us. When she finally looks up, her eyes are wet, rimmed with fear.
“Is that how you think they’ll come for me too?” she whispers.
The thought of losing her breaks something in my soul, and before I think any better, I crush my mouth against hers. I swallow her sobs, taste her tears, pin her so tight to the wall she can barely breathe.
She fights me, fists caught in my grip. Her body shakes against mine, grief and rage spilling out into my kiss.
I pull away from her, my lips remaining close to hers. “I love you,” I hum, “and no one, not even God himself, will take you from me. Because even in the next lifetime, I will hunt you. I’ll find you. And I will spend eternity protecting you.”