Chapter 32: Jay

The pain had faded, though not by much. He was still sore, still hurting—but he was alive. That was the greatest thing in the world for him to feel—the fact that he was still alive meant one thing: he could be with Addy. There was no longer anything that could keep him from her.
She was a welcome sight when she came into the room, especially since the only thing he’d had to stare at for the last half hour was yet another police officer posted outside his door. Terror lined Addy’s face like she was afraid she would find the wrong patient lying on the bed waiting for her, and he would be dead in the next room over. When she saw him, her mouth dropped open, and her eyes filled with tears. This time, he hoped, they were tears of happiness. He’d seen her endure enough pain since he’d known her, and he wanted nothing more than to see her smile.
“Hey,” he said. His voice was raw and scratchy. He sounded—and probably looked—like death warmed over. But he didn’t care. She was there; she’d stayed by his side. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, after everything they’d been through.
Jay cleared his throat and raised one hand to her. Addy approached the bed and sat down, wiping the tears from her face. She was smiling. Such a beautiful, wonderful, heart-stopping smile.
“I thought for sure you’d…” she trailed off, looking pained, and he squeezed her fingertips in his.
“I’m not,” he said. He hurt all over but seeing her face made everything better. He couldn’t bear not talking to her. In a moment like this, he needed her. “I’m right here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere, thanks to you.”
Addy rested her head on his bed, careful to avoid the spot on his abdomen that had been operated on—the place the bullet had pierced and nearly killed him.
“I almost couldn’t do it,” she said. “I’ve held the lives of so many people in my hands, Jay, but I almost couldn’t do it for you.” She took a shaky breath. “You weren’t some stranger I just met, some name I just learned. If you had died, I—” Her words faltered as a sob welled in her throat. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I can’t believe that cop shot you.”
“Oh, I can,” Jay said. “I’m just surprised they didn’t shoot me earlier.”
“You’re crazy,” Addy said. “You’re a crazy man, Jay Dexter.”
He shifted slightly, wishing they could up that dose of morphine in his IV. “Did they get her?”
“Yes.” She smiled, the first genuine smile he’d seen in a while. “They got her. You should have seen her screaming as they took her in.”
She sat up, still holding his hand, but suddenly she looked uncertain, and he felt a twinge of fear. What would come of this now? Their little adventure was over—now she was free of him, and he was free of Laurel. She could go home to Lakewood and never have to see his face or think of his name again. She could continue living her life as she had been before that night she’d picked him up in the rain. Maybe she would leave Ryan—maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, it hurt him to think of never seeing her again. No, it didn’t just hurt. It killed him.
“What is it?” he asked. She looked away from him shamefully, and he reached for her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t run away from me. What’s wrong?”
“Ryan is here,” she said. “He and Lisa flew in after I called her. They’re in the waiting room. They have no idea about any of this.”
The sound of her fiancé’s name made his stomach hurt. He swallowed, wondering what would happen now. It wasn’t right for him to assume that she’d stay with him now; thinking of Ryan and seeing him were two very different things. For all Jay knew, she had seen Ryan and realized how much she’d missed him. Jay would be nothing to her anymore—he would merely be the man who kidnapped her and took her on a bizarre adventure. She would go home with Ryan now. Jay suppressed a sigh. He would probably go back to jail, and Addy and Ryan would continue their life in Washington. They would get married, just like they’d planned, and eventually, she’d have children with him. Jay Dexter would be a memory to her. Only a memory.
“I understand,” he said. “You should go to him.”
He didn’t want to understand, but he did. He didn’t want her to go to him, but he knew it wasn’t up to him. Jay saw someone in Addy he knew Ryan did not. When Jay looked at her, he saw an angel, a saint. He knew when she was angry or uncertain. He knew her fake laugh from her real one and could tell when her smile was sincere. Could Ryan? Did Ryan know those things? Did he care about those things?
“Jay, I’m not sure what to do now.” She seemed uncomfortable as if she would have rather avoided bringing it up. She looked back at him. Her eyes sparkled vibrant with tears, drawing him in. Only Addy could cry and still make him want her even more. “What happens now? With us?”
When she looked away again, he wished he had the strength to take her chin in his fingers again and force her to talk to him. There was a moment of silence. He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them, lifting his free hand to lay theirs gently on his chest.
“I’m in trouble, Addy. Big trouble. The police already probably spoke to you, and I don’t know what’s going to happen from here, okay? I could go back to prison for a very long time, and I can’t force you to be a part of that.”
“Don’t be stupid.” She wiped a tear from her cheek and shook her head. “Nothing is determined for sure yet. The judge might go easy on you.”
“We’ll see about that,” Jay said humorlessly. He shook the thought aside and squeezed Addy’s hand. He didn’t have to say anything; the way his eyes scanned her face and the smile tugged at the corner of his mouth implied an unspoken understanding between them, a moment of love, desire, and passion—nothing had to be said. “Whatever happens to me, Addy, I know one thing is for certain: I choose you.”
“And I choose you,” she said. “I choose you and everything that you are. I choose you and that stupid dog. I choose us.”
Jay closed his eyes and drew Addy into him. He rested his lips next to her ear, squeezing her tight, her soft hair against his cheek. He could feel her shaking as she cried, but he knew it was not with fear or anxiety or anguish.
“It’ll be okay,” he murmured, but he wasn’t sure if he believed it. “I promise, Addy, we’ll get through this.”