Page 55 of Jett

I rise, gently shaking his arms—arms that are frail and rail thin, arms that haven’t held me for the longest time. Arms that will never hold me again.

Eventually, a team of nurses enter the room. One ushers me to the corner while another checks his vitals. She shakes her head. I cry out and collapse, but strong arms hold me up, and I lean into Jett as he pulls me across the threshold and lifts me in his arms. I sob for my husband, my first true love, my Joshua.

Jett carries me out through the doors of the nursing home and sets me on my feet beside my car. He opens the door and helps me in, leaning into the vehicle to buckle my seat belt.

“I ... I can’t l-leave,” I sob. “I have forms I need t-to sign, things I need to—”

“Later. You’re not signin’ nothin’ right now. Your husband just died, darlin’. I’m sure even the bitches at that nursing home can understand you need a minute to grieve.”

We drive in silence. When he pulls up in front of my apartment, I close my eyes and grab hold of his hand. “Will you stay with me?”

“Babe, you couldn’t pay me to be anywhere else.”

I climb out of the car and step into the crisp, early-morning air. The first few drops of rain brush my arms and hair, but I don’t hurry to the door like I usually would. I stumble forward a few feet, and the weight of my loss slams into me so hard that I crumple to the ground.

Jett helps me to my feet and leads me to the front door of my building. We ride the elevator and I sob the entire time. When he opens my door, he picks me up and carries me across the threshold. Joshua did this very thing after we returned from our honeymoon in Italy. The juxtaposition of those two men and the thresholds they’ve carried me across is startling.

He takes me into my bedroom and lays me on the unmade bed. Jett lies beside me, and pulls me into his embrace. I sob so hard, I soak his shirt through in minutes.

He strokes my hair. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. I couldn’t handle empty platitudes just to fill the space anyway. I think he knows this. It’s likely why he didn’t want anyone around after Mia’s death.

What could anyone say to make this better, to make me grieve less?

Nothing. There are no words. Only pain and tears, and the arms of the man I love, but not the arms of the man I married. I’ll never feel those around me again. I’ll never kiss him, make love to him, or have him whisper assurances in my ear.

The man I married is dead, and the man I love—the man I tried so desperately not to fall for—is here, holding me, kissing my forehead, and telling me I’ll be okay.

Nothing feels okay in this moment.

Nothing will ever be okay again.

JETT

I’VE HARDLY SLEPT.My phone buzzed so much with incoming texts and calls this morning that I turned it off. I slide out from under Raine’s arm, easing it back to the bed carefully so I won’t wake her. Then I walk through the apartment to check my messages. Tank’s name flashes up on the screen and I unlock the door and step out onto her tiny balcony to answer it.

“Yeah?”

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