Page 57 of Chasing Grace
“I can’t do that, Gray.”
In an explosion of blankets, she rolled away from him and sprang to her feet. “I’m telling you, I don’t want this. Any of this. What part don’t you get?”
On the opposite side of the bed, Chase stood and faced her.
“This isn’t about us. It’s about Jackson.”
What? Why in the hell did he want to talk to her about Jackson? “There is no us, and Jackson has nothing to do with this.”
His expression softened as he made his way toward her. Aware she had a shitty track record when it came to resisting his advances, she backed away until she could go no farther. Cornered, her shoulders knocked into the walls.
He caged her in. One hand planted next to her head, the other he laid over her heart, a heavy weight making her blood run cold. “I’m sorry, baby. Jackson died this morning in Washington.”
Shock froze her muscles in place. “No.” She shook her head. Chase’s words floated around her brain, refusing to settle. Jackson couldn’t be dead. He never took any risks. Never. Not with his life. Not with his stories. “No. You’re wrong.”
“It was a car accident. Your brother went to the scene. He confirmed—”
“No.” She shook her head again. She couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe? She knocked Chase’s hand away, anger rising to the surface. “He can’t be dead. Give me my phone. I’ll call him.”
“He’s not going to answer, Gray. I’m sorry.” He lifted his hand to stroke down the side of her neck. Steady fingers, warm skin, a lover’s touch.
Her vision blurred, her pulse quickened, and she swayed toward him.
“No!” Heartbeat thundering in her ears, she pushed past and ran for the door.
Gravel bit into the soles of her feet as she bolted across the narrow courtyard, and slamming her way through the screen door, she didn’t make the turn into the COMMs center. Instead, she crashed into one of the open doors, announcing her presence like a meteor smashing into earth.
Already destroyed by the news Chase had delivered, she didn’t trust herself to make eye contact with any of the men in the room as she entered on shaky legs. She couldn’t accept their sympathetic glances. They didn’t know her. They didn’t understand her relationship with…
Oh God.
“Grace—”
“No.” Head sawing back and forth, she didn’t look at her father.
Couldn’t look at her father.
She only had eyes for Jackson.
Up on the SmartBoard, his headshot filled the corner of the screen. She’d taken the picture. He used it for everything. Every article, every front-page feature, every op-ed. Always accompanied by a tagline he wrote.
He hadn’t written the CNN tagline that sat below his picture now.
Fiery Crash Kills Investigative Journalist.
His brown eyes held hers.
Her body cold and hollow, a tremble took root. It started in her chest and spread. Ice sliced through her veins numbing every part of her. And then Chase was there. He draped a blanket over her shoulders and her knees buckled under the weight. The floor seemed as good a companion as any to share her grief, but he lifted her into his arms and held her tight against his chest.
The floodgates opened, and with a cry that shredded her vocal cords, the tears came hard and fast. Arms locking around Chase’s neck, she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and let the pain come.
“I want to call Tara,” she begged between sobs. “I want to call Tara.”
She had no clue what he said, but she felt the rumble of his response as he set them in motion. A short walk down the hall, and he put her down on the couch in her father’s office.
“We need to know what Jackson told her, Sergeant.”
“Not now, Colonel.”
