Page 112 of Jameson’s Salvation

Oh, no. I was done trying to sleep.

“How’d you find me?”

“Let’s—”

“Please, Jameson. I don’t want to sleep. All I hear is Deloris and I re-live the drive. I want to know the rest.”

He was quiet for a long time, and in the silence, I watched a thousand emotions cross his face. Some were angry, some were sad, but all of them looked tortured.

Then he spoke, his voice rough and raw as he explained what had happened. But what he didn’t tell me was how he’d felt. His accounting was akin to a military brief. All facts, no emotion. He took me through step-by-step of how the team had gathered information from Jonas, Ray, and RJ, how McKenna had finally gotten into my phone when I had service, all the way to the end. He’d provided details about Nixon starting water resuscitation and about him giving me CPR.

Nowhere had he told me about himself. It was on-point and all about me.

It was also shocking. All of it.

“What happened to Deloris?”

“She’s dead.”

Matter of fact and emotionless.

“How?”

“She handcuffed herself to the steering wheel, rolled down all the windows and drove into the lake. She drowned. Not that it was a thought, but Nixon would never have been able to pull her from the car.”

“It wasn’t a thought?”

“Fuck no.” Resolute. “The bitch tried to kill you. I hope she’s rotting in hell right alongside her piece-of-shit son. I do not feel sorry either of them are dead.”

I searched my feelings and found I couldn’t summon up any remorse either. I’d thought Deloris had left me in the car to die while she was sitting in her nice comfortable house watching TV. But, apparently she’d been in there trying to find the gumption to commit suicide. I could’ve felt sorry for her, she was a woman who’d lost her child. Even if Peyton was an asshole and he’d hurt me, he was still her son. But the fact her suicide plan had included murdering me as well negated any sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It had to be hard on you.”

“Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. You were—”

“I was the one who had to sit in a car and wait to be rescued. Sure, I was terrified and I’d made several mistakes. But you were the one who was racing to get me. You’re the one who had to listen to me rambling. That had to have been hard.”

I couldn’t remember half of what I’d said. I just needed to talk. It made me feel like I had some connection while I was petrified I was going to die.

“Hard? It was fucking torture.” Jameson blew out a breath and locked eyes with mine. “I was listening to you as you were dying and I couldn’t get to you. I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t protect you. All I had was your voice. And as much as your commentary pushed me forward, it also paralyzed me. I knew I wouldn’t survive if I lost you. I knew it down to my soul, my life would be over. Even if I was left breathing on this earth, I’d be dead.” Jameson’s jaw clenched and his eyes dulled. “And when I couldn’t resuscitate you and I thought you were gone, I wanted to die right alongside of you.”

“But you saved me.” Jameson shook his head but I spoke over him. “I knew you would. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t as scared as I could’ve been. I was able to stay calm.”

He picked up my hand and kissed the inside of my scarred wrist. “I was so fucking scared. I thought the day I found you lying in the grass with blood caked in your hair was the worst day of my life. But that was nothing compared to holding your lifeless body. I will never forget what it felt like to touch your neck and not feel your heart beating. I will never take for granted a beat of your heart or a breath filling your lungs. Not a single day will pass when I’m not acutely aware of how close I was to losing you.”

“And, Jameson, not a day will pass where I forget that it is because of you I’m alive.”

The chair he was sitting in scraped on the linoleum floor as he folded his big body forward and planted his head on the bed next to my hip.

“So fucking close.” My hand went to his head and my fingers tangled with his hair.

I said nothing as his body shook. There was nothing to say. I’d almost died but he saved me.

I was wrong—there was something to say.

“I love you, Jameson, until my dying breath.” His body went solid but I forged ahead. “And I can say that with one hundred percent certainty. When I thought I was drawing my last breath, all I could think about was you. All of the things we hadn’t done. All of the time that was being stolen from us. But you were my last thought and you always will be.”

“I will never let you go,” he groaned. “Never.”