The door closed. He clenched his fists. Jillian didn’t call for him, there was no need. She knew he was downstairs. A few minutes later she descended the stairs looking the part of death. He tossed her the tape. She wrapped her hands then slid in her mouth guard.
“Luke hates me.”
Jackson nodded. He wouldn’t lie to her.
“AJ is blind and suicidal.”
Another nod. “Make me bleed.”
*
The pain. The blood. The fractured souls. They were the only reminders of the Knights’ mortality. In Hell everyone was immortal.
Blood clots. Cuts fade. Pain evaporates. But the wounds in their souls would never heal. They would forever fester as reminders that they were bound to a past that could never be erased.
“You’re angry.” Jillian stared at the ceiling next to her brother.
The pools of sweat and splattering of blood kept them glued to the mat. The adhesion tugged like a Band-Aid on their skin when they tried to move. Neither one could remember the final blow. At some point the pain numbed itself.
“You’re unbelievable,” Jackson said.
“Why do you say that?”
“This morning you saw the face that I know has haunted you. The one that hasn’t allowed you to let go of Jessica. Then you had to bring your blind, sick neighbor home all the while pretending your world wasn’t shattering all around you. And yet … you’re making an observation pertaining to my emotional state.”
“I can’t do anything about mine. We might as well work on you.”
“I professed my love to Ryn two nights ago. She makes me feel …”
“Feel what?”
“Everything. I feel everything with her. That’s the problem. Every time I try to run from my past, I crash into her. I hurt her and she let me. I love her … and I hurt her. I’m a killer, that’s what I do. I hurt people.”
“Jackson Knight is not a killer.”
“I would have. If Ryn wouldn’t have shown up, Mrs. Baker would be dead. Kill or be killed. It’s all I know. It’s always been so black and white … I don’t know what’s in the middle.”
“Knight. We are in the middle. As much as Jessica and Jude possessed a part of Sunny and Grant, Jillian and Jackson will forever carry the essence of their former selves. If Jessica wouldn’t have watched her best friend die … if she wouldn’t have killed a man in cold blood, I don’t know if Jillian would love AJ. But for you it’s different. You’ll stop crashing into Ryn when you stop running from your past. I think you’re afraid to let Jude love her too.”
“Jude didn’t love anyone.”
“He loved Jessica.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it? Love is love. Sex was just one of many ways I expressed my love to Luke. I loved just being with him. I loved our runs, our dog walks, dinner on the pier, long drives, trips to Staples … he complemented my life so completely. That was the bond I had with him. The passion—it was just one thing. Luke made me love him long before he ever made love to me. If given the chance, I think Jude would have loved Ryn.”
She peeled herself from the mat and stumbled to an upright position with a bit of a dizzy sway. “I have to go see if AJ is awake yet, force feed him, divvy out the prescribed number of pills, and pray he doesn’t start vomiting and convulsing on me again.”
“God I hope he knows how lucky he really is.”
“He has a brain tumor, he’s blind, and I think he’s losing part of his memory. It’s probably accurate to say that ‘lucky’ is a bit of a stretch. But he loves me, he held me and wiped away my tears—the ones that belonged to Luke—when I think he knew they weren’t really for him. And I know you think he called me to help him die, but I don’t see it that way. He gave me his last look, and…” Jillian blinked away the onslaught of tears “…he’s going to give me his last breath.”
“Jill?”
She stopped with her back to him.
“I believe you. I believe that he loves you, but I still think you’re wrong.”
“About?”
“I don’t think he’s going to give you his last breath … I think he’s going to ask you to take it.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Dr. Jones, can you tell us what you and Ms. Day discussed in the lobby of the hotel?”
Jessica was alive.
Luke stared at the steel table beneath his propped up elbows. Nauseous. Confused. The effects of the sedative lingered like a hangover.
He’d been in Houston for three days. Charlie was supposed to meet him for the second half of the week. After coffee and an omelet with whole grain toast in his room, he left early for that day’s seminar to drop a room key off at the concierge for Charlie. He was one of three people in line: a tall gentleman in a suit who looked a little familiar, perhaps another doctor he’d seen at the conference, and a woman at the front of the line. He couldn’t see much of her except a pile of platinum blond hair when she’d make the occasional tilt of her head to the side while talking to the concierge.