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"Hollybrook," I whispered, pulling up a browser. It was perfect.
It was late in Maryland, but earlier in California, where the center was located, so I called. And they had a spot for Jarred, for a significant price, of course. My heart lifted and I felt some of the tension float out of me. We could get him in. They'd pick him up from the hospital when he was discharged—Jarred wouldn't get the chance to fall down again. We could save him.
I was smiling when I'd finished arranging everything, and despite the hour, I picked up my phone to text Jace and let him know.
Me: The place is called Hollybrook. It's in the mountains near Lake Arrowhead. They'll pick Jarred up when he's discharged. It's all arranged.
Me: You'll just need to call to let them know the planned release day and time. Here's the number: 909-555-1945
I watched my phone for a response, and though three dots danced for a moment as if Jace was typing, no response came. I pushed away the disappointment—what had I expected?
After fifteen minutes, I forced myself to stop staring at the phone and go wash my face and get ready for bed. When I plugged in my phone and laid down, he still hadn't answered. And I tried not to think about him being angry, him holding onto his pride so tightly he wouldn’t see I was helping out of love, because I cared. I didn’t let myself think about the possibility that maybe I’d just made a choice—helping his family over having him.
He must have fallen asleep, I told myself. He'd respond when he woke up for his watch shift and there'd be an answer when I woke up.
Sleep came quickly once I'd closed my eyes. Between my confusion over Jace’s hot and cold responses and the stress over my own messed up life, I was exhausted.
And my dreams were full of dark chocolate eyes and big warm hands, Jace's low rolling laugh. I refused to address the nagging worry that maybe everything that had felt so right could already be broken. I’d been trying to help. How could that have ruined anything?
I woke up early and checked my messages. There was no response from Jace. Still.
But I had a string of texts from Zac.
Zac:I've got three guys willing to testify against you. Double the settlement if you want to keep the video out of the press?
Zac: I'm not the only cheater here, Juliet.
Zac: Answer me...
My lawyer had advisedme to ignore any contact Zac made, so I took a screenshot and forwarded it to her.
Quick, efficient, businesslike. If only his words didn't affect me at all, but they did. Reading the vindictive and demanding texts from my ex made my head ache and my chest feel hollow. How could I have been so wrong about him? There had been a point where I thought he'd loved me for me.
He'd been so gracious and attentive when we'd first met. But soon after we were married, his attention was definitely more devoted to my income than to me.
But even when things were good, he'd never made me feel seen the way that Jace did. I tried to imagine Zac being happy to spend a night in, to play Mastermind by a fire with me, but I couldn't. Zac wanted to be seen, to go out, to be at the right events with the right people.
I sighed and rolled out of bed, taking the time to shower and get dressed, since the magazine interview was this morning at nine.
I couldn't help but worry about Jace’s silence. How would I spend the day pretending with Ryan for the cameras, if Jace was angry or hurt? We needed to talk, but I didn’t know if there would be time now.
Downstairs, the house was quiet, and I went into the kitchen to start the coffee maker, looking out over the back lawn in hopes of seeing Jace, but he wasn't there. I watched the coffee brew, letting my mind wander aimlessly as worry twisted inside me. Worry over Zac. Over Jace's silence. Over my ability to pull off this thing with Ryan.
When the coffee was ready, I poured a cup, so caught up with what was going on in my head that I didn't even notice Chad appear behind me.
"Got a cup for me?" he asked, startling me as I turned. My breath caught and I gasped as I sloshed coffee over the edge of the cup and my hand.
"Shit," I said, turning back for a towel to mop up the mess.
"Sorry," he said, stepping closer to me, crowding me a bit into the counter as he reached for a paper towel and then knelt down to mop up the puddle I'd made. He stood again, still in my personal space, and grinned down at me, an odd look in his eye. "Didn't mean to scare you."
I slid sideways to get away from him a bit, laughing nervously. "No, it's fine. I was just miles away in my own head. Didn't hear you come in." I motioned to the coffee maker and cups. "Help yourself."
Jace and Chad seemed to work the same shifts most of the time, so I glanced into the hallway, expecting to see Jace nearby, but the front room was silent. A tiny finger of unease crept up my spine, but I told myself to ignore it. I’d been alone with Chad lots of times. He was harmless. Just creepy.
"So," Chad said, seemingly in no hurry to get to whatever station he'd been assigned for the morning. "Long night?"
I smiled at him, my mind beginning to churn over his strange behavior. "Um, no, not really." I could hear a steady beat coming from the basement, along with irregular sounds that told me my sister was awake, and beating up the old punching bags she'd hung down there years ago. I was about to turn toward the basement stairs when there was a knock at the front door.
