Both Jack and Steph had been examined at the hospital and kept for a twenty-four-hour observation. They were separated then, each being given separate rooms, but they were on the same floor. Steph spent as much time in Jack’s room as the hospital personnel allowed.
They’d been discharged three days ago. He was at Liam’s now, in the guest room that was larger than any apartment he’d lived in, with his feet elevated and everything bandaged properly. He’d had more sleep in the last seventy-two hours than he’d had in the previous month combined.
He held a book in his hands, a murder mystery set in Wyoming that he’d heard good things about, but he hadn’t turned the page in an hour.
Jack’s thoughts were focused on Steph.
Not the careful cataloging of complications and distances and reasons the whole thing was difficult. The plain version. What he wanted and what he was afraid of and what he was going to do about both.
What he wanted was simple—to be with Steph.
How he was going to get that was the challenge. Their time in the hospital made it clear she wanted the same thing, but they both knew it might not be easy. Celeste’s memory was always going to be there for Jack, and while he was fully aware Steph was not Celeste, he still wanted to protect her. Protect the woman he loved.
And that was what he knew more than anything.
Jack Swisher loved Steph Pierce.
He hadn’t come out and said it; it was too soon for that. But he wasn’t going to lie to himself about it either.
After years of effort, he’d built a life that didn’t require anything from anyone. He’d told himself it was the sensible response to what had happened with Celeste. He understood now that sensible and reasonable were a cop out.
Everything he’d done to keep those distances was built on fear. He could say that easily now, at least to himself, at least in the quiet of Liam’s guest room with his feet elevated and honest thinking behind him.
He was afraid of what it cost when someone you loved moved toward danger instead of away from it. He was afraid of Steph specifically, of how much she already mattered and how quickly it had happened and how completely unprepared he’d been for the force of it.
The fear was real. It wasn’t going away.
Jack was choosing Steph anyway.
A knock at the door broke him out of his reverie.
“Come in,” Jack called, setting the book on the side table.
“Hey, Jack,” Liam said, opening the door. “You up for a visitor?”
“Sure, Liam. Come on in.”
The door opened wide. Liam stepped aside, revealing Steph, her bright smile edged with nervousness.
“Hey, uh . . . I hope you don’t mind . . . ”
“Mind? No.” Jack sat up straighter in the chair.
“I probably should’ve called.” Steph’s eyes flicked around the room. “Nice place.”
“You good?” Liam asked, his hand on the doorknob.
Jack didn’t even try to hide his smile. “We’re definitely good.”
With the door closed, Steph continued her scan of the room before her gaze rested on Jack. She seemed to relax as her shoulders dropped, and she gestured toward the chair next to his. “Mind if I sit?”
“Please. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“When we talked on the phone last night, you sounded bored. Maybe a little lonely.”
“Right on both accounts. It was great of Liam to offer to let me stay here until I’m back on my feet.” He gestured to the bandages wrapped around them. “Literally.”
“It’s a beautiful home. And this room...wow.” She shook her head. “I knew the Dixons had some money, but...I had no idea.”
