Page 118 of Bria and the Tiger

Not Bria’s pillow, his inner voice said immediately. She’s not yours. Never was and never will be. Get used to it. You’re going to be alone forever, buddy.

His tiger whined softly at the mere thought of Bria. It had been more or less quiet for the last few days. He rarely got sick and his tiger had no capacity for dealing with the flu and cold symptoms he was battling. It had retreated like a sulky teenager refusing to leave its room.

Stop it, he scolded it. She’s not our mate.

His tiger growled, and he ignored it before lifting the other pillow. His cell phone was under it and he grabbed it and headed back to the kitchen. He sipped cautiously at his tea. If it didn’t make him feel sick, he’d try some dry toast next.

He pushed the button on his phone. Holy shit, it was Friday. He groaned when he saw the missed calls and text messages from his mother. Her messages were growing increasingly urgent in tone. He vaguely remembered putting his phone to silent at some point, the dinging of it was too loud for his aching head.

“Shit,” he muttered. There was a missed call and a text message from Dr. Martin as well. He had missed his appointment with her this morning.

He would text his mother and then give Dr. Martin’s office a quick call. He should probably text Rosalie as well, let her know he was fine. She’d tell Bria who would probably be worried about him.

No, she won’t. You broke her heart. She doesn’t give a shit about you anymore.

“Jace?”

He jumped and nearly fell off the chair. His growl of surprise turned into a coughing fit. He coughed and coughed as a big hand rubbed his back. When the coughing eased and he could breathe again, he said, “Dad? You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry, son.” His dad sat down in the chair next to him. “I should have knocked.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You look like shit.” His dad put his big, callused hand on his forehead.

“I’m fine. Just had the flu and now a cold.”

“You sure that’s all it was?” His father was giving him that cautious look he remembered so well after Tabitha left him.

“Yes. I’m fine, Dad. Why are you here?”

He wasn’t. He was far from fine and as soon as he was feeling better, he was confident the darkness would be waiting for him. Hell, he could feel it now, creeping around the edges, lurking and waiting for the chance to consume him.

“Your mother was worried about you. You haven’t been returning her calls.”

“My phone was on silent and I’ve been sleeping most of the last few days.” He forced a smile at his father. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m doing okay.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

He shook his head. His father stood and moved to the counter. “I’ll make you some toast.”

“Thanks.”

“Your mother’s been real upset the last few days. I finally sat her down and made her tell me what was wrong.”

“I didn’t mean to upset her.”

His father popped the bread into the toaster before turning to face him. “Do you love Bria?”

Jace paused with the mug of tea halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“Do you love her? Be honest with me, kid.”

“Like you and mom were honest with me about your heart attack?”

The toast popped up and his father put it on a plate and joined him at the table. “We shouldn’t have kept that from you. I’m sorry we did. Do you love her?”

Jace stared at the toast. “Yes.”

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