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“No, Tucker, there are no ‘what ifs.’ You have to trust us.”
“What if I can’t take care of you? What if something happens to you because of me?”
“Tucker, listen to me. You have to believe in us. It isn’t all up to you. We’ll take care of each other.”
Jace felt it. He knew Tucker told Blythe about Rosa. He was driving back from Crested Butte when it hit him. Now it was his turn. He had his own story to tell, and it would likely rip their lives to shreds.
18
Jace pulled in the driveway and saw Bree sitting on the front porch, reading a book. He didn’t know why he came here, and he didn’t know who he expected to find when he did. Was he looking for Lyric? Or Bree?
There was something that told him Lyric would go easy on him. If he told her the story, she wouldn’t judge him. Maybe he was a fool for thinking so.
“Hey, there,” he said as he got out of his truck. “Gettin’ a little cold for you to be sittin’ out here, isn’t it?”
“I got caught up in my book, I guess. I didn’t realize how late it was getting.”
He walked up to where she was on the porch, and she stood. “Where’s Lyric?”
“She had some family stuff to take care of but asked me to let her know if she was needed here, and she’d come back.”
“Goin’ inside now?”
“Yeah, I think I will.”
He walked her to the front door and held it open.
“Uh, do you want to come in?”
“I would.”
Bree dropped her book on the island in the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. “We don’t have much to eat. I could make you a sandwich.”
“Nah, thanks. I’m not hungry.”
“Somethin’ to drink?”
“A beer would be nice if you’ve got one.”
She pulled one out and handed it to him. She poured herself a glass of wine and followed him into the living room. She started to sit in one of the chairs, when Jace motioned her over and patted the seat on the couch, next to him.
“Come over here and sit next to me.”
“Jace—”
“Bree, come and sit down.”
When Jace woke up later, he had no idea what time it was. Bree was out cold on the couch, next to him. He eased himself out from under her, reached down, and picked her up. She felt as though she didn’t weigh a thing as he carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the unmade bed. When he pulled the covers over her, she stirred.
“Don’t go,” she murmured. He wondered if she knew she said it, or if she was dreaming. He stood to leave, and she touched his hand. “Jace, please, don’t go.”
He toed off his boots and stretched out next to her. She moved closer and rested her head in the crook of his arm. He held her close, and they both fell back to sleep.
Jace opened his eyes and looked at the clock. It was a little after five in the morning. His arm was asleep, where Bree’s head rested on it. They’d fallen asleep that way, and neither had moved.
Bree felt so warm against him, in contrast to the coldness he felt building in his chest. Something was wrong, and as much as he wanted to stay huddled in her warmth and ignore it, he knew he couldn’t.
He eased his arm out from under her and rolled off of the bed. He hated to leave her, but the feeling of dread was not going away. If something had happened to Blythe or the baby, he needed to know. He prayed that wasn’t it.
