Page 92 of Jessica's Hero
I don’t want any of it.
I don’t want to talk about the terror I felt when I woke up in the trunk, or the despair that swept through me when I thought I might never see Kane again. I don’t want to recall those awful minutes when Adam carried me down into the silo, or the absolute panic when I realized his sinister intent.
And I really don’t want to talk about falling into the pit.
The icy water closing over me.
Kicking with all my strength just to stay afloat.
The pain that came with my frantic attempt to cut the rope around my wrists; knowing if I didn’t succeed, my chances of surviving would be even worse.
Seeing Adam floating there, his skull split open, both hoping and fearing that he was dead.
Knowing I was responsible for his death.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. As unsettling as it is—me, who hates to even kill a spider, dragging a man to a watery grave—I’d do it a hundred times over if it meant stopping Adam from killing again.
Does that mean I want to think about it?
No. And I definitely don’t want to go on national TV to share my gruesome story, complete with interviews from the families of the other missing women as they thank me for finally bringing them closure.
The police are still investigating, of course, but they found plenty of evidence at Adam’s house linking him to not just Eliza’s death, but those of five other women throughout the Northeast. And according to Kane—who didn’t want to talk to me about it, but I insisted—theprosecutor seems confident he’ll have plenty to close all the cases for good.
So I’m glad about that. I’m glad those poor families will finally get the answers they’ve been seeking for years, even if the outcomes aren’t what they hoped.
But selfishly, I wish I wasn’t the one who had to do it. I wish I’d gone along with Kane’s suggestion of taking an extended leave of absence from my job until they found the person who was targeting me. Then I would have been home yesterday—well, Kane’s house, but it feels more and more like my own—and we would have done our normal things once he got home like dinner and playingTenebris Veiltogether and using the blindfold again like Kane promised.
But as I learned when I was eighteen, wishes are just that.
I couldn’t change what happened back then, just like I can’t now. So as much as it sucks, I have to deal with my new reality that includes endless questions from the police and getting a new phone number to avoid all the intrusive calls and the nightmares that wake me up screaming in terror as I fall into the water over and over again.
“Jess, sweetheart, do you need another blanket?”
Kane jumps up from his spot beside me on the couch and hurries over to the ottoman, where he pulls a thick fleece blanket from inside it. With worry etched into his features, he tucks it around me before I can even answer, then takes my chilled hand between his.
“I’m okay,” I tell him, although admittedly, I am a little cold. Not just from the reminder of my icy plunge, but the residual effects of mild hypothermia. I was incrediblylucky it wasn’t worse. The doctor at the emergency room said if I’d been found ten minutes later, I might have lost consciousness and slipped beneath the surface.
“You don’t feel okay,” he retorts as he rubs my hand. “You feel cold. I told you to let me know if you needed anything.”
“You’ve been waiting on me all morning. I didn’t want to bug you again.”
“Jess.” Kane snugs both my blankets around me and lifts me onto his lap. “There is literallynothingyou could do that would bug me. Want me to order a Michelin star meal from a restaurant in the city? Rub your feet for an hour? Hire someone to install a hot tub today? I’ll do anything you want.”
I kiss his cheek, feeling the brush of his stubble against my lips. “You don’t have to do any of that. I’m happy just sitting here with you.”
“Jess.” Emotion throbs in his voice. “I can’t tell you how lucky I feel to have you with me. Holding you in my arms. I—” He stops. Swallows hard. His eyes close for a moment before reopening to meet mine. “I’m just so damn glad you’re here.”
My throat goes thick. “Me too.”
Kane’s arms tighten around me and he presses a kiss to the top of my head. His chest rises and falls as he takes several deep breaths. Then he looks down at me again. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want? Are you hungry? It’s been a couple of hours since breakfast. I could make some sandwiches… No. Soup would be better. And we have that stew Grant brought over from Scarlett.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’m not hungry yet.”
His gaze narrows as he inspects my face. “What aboutyour head?” The back of his knuckle grazes across the bruise on my cheek. “Do you want to lie down in the bedroom for a while? Or I can grab one of those chilled eye masks Thea dropped off. What about another pain killer?” He checks his watch. “I think you’re just about due.”
“My head doesn’t feel that bad.” Mostly. Another fun souvenir from my adventure yesterday is a concussion from where Adam hit me, plus the residual dizziness, light sensitivity, and a headache that makes my head throb each time I move.
But I don’t see the point in mentioning all that to Kane. Not when he’s so worried already. And it’s not like he can magically make my concussion go away. Like the doctor said, unless I suddenly start throwing up or have blinding pain, all I can really do is wait it out.
