The gurney bumped into his shoulder blades. His heart lurched. He ran. Ran faster than he’d ever run before.

Don’t step on a crack. He tried to jump over them, but they moved beneath his feet, and he couldn’t avoid them all.

He stepped on one. He’d heard her body crunch when the approaching headlights disappeared. Over the sounds of the rending metal and shattering glass, he’d heard it from the backseat.

Her back is broken, son. If she lives, she’ll never walk again.

But she’ll still be able to play the piano, won’t she, Father?

I don’t think so.

For that, Jason grieved.

Don’t cry, boy. Men don’t cry. Not ever.

He didn’t cry. He ran. Ran until he couldn’t run anymore. No breath left in him. No energy. If he couldn’t run, he had to hide. Hide from it. If it found him, it would get him. The thing on the gurney pretending to be his mother would get him.

An old shed became his salvation. He crammed his body into a small space. A dark place. Musty like an old attic. The air stale and stifling. But he was alone here. He liked being alone. Alone was safe. He listened for the squeak of wheels. They never came, but after a long time his father did.

Everyone has been looking for you all day. I don’t have the patience for this bullshit right now, Jason. Your mother is dead. Do you understand? She’s dead! You’re alive—not a fucking scratch on you—but she’s dead.

Jason was too stunned to feel the first blow.

Dead? What did it mean to be dead? Was it like sleeping? A long sleep with no more pain?

Too confused to feel the second blow.

Don’t you ever hide from me again, you piece of shit. Not ever.

Jason heard the squeak of the gurney’s wheels outside the shed door.

Too afraid to feel the third blow. The fourth. Fifth. The pain washed over him like a comforting blanket. He deserved this. Hurt me, Father. Hurt me.

Jace’s eyes flipped open, his heart thumping with terror. His gaze darted around the sterile white walls. The IV bag hanging beside the bed. The heart rate monitor. The curtain rod above his bed. Instead of receding, fear rose up his neck until it strangled him. An instinctual need to run gripped him. Jace reached for the IV needle in the back of his hand, but before he could jerk it out, someone grabbed his wrist.

“Jace,” Aggie said. “It’s okay. Do you remember what happened? You’re in the hospital.”

He knew he was in the fucking hospital, and he needed to get out. Immediately. Years ago, a counselor had told him that he had post-traumatic stress disorder, but somehow, putting a name to it didn’t make it easier to deal with when it caught him off guard and sent him into a panic. It had been a long time since he’d dreamed of his mother’s death. A long time since the traumas of his youth had controlled his reactions to the outside world. He’d thought he’d moved beyond this bullshit—apparently not.

“Aggie,” he said, grabbing her with both arms and pulling her against him on the bed. He hugged her as tight as he could, which didn’t seem nearly tight enough. “Aggie, you have to get me out of here.”

“Sweetheart, you’re hurt. You can’t leave.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder, which he vaguely recognized as throbbing dully in pain.

“I have to leave. Right now.”

“Let go. You’re going to damage your shoulder.”

He had no idea what she meant. “Aggie, please.”

“I’ll talk to your doctor.”

“They can’t keep me here against my will.” He released her reluctantly, and she stared into his eyes. She cupped his cheek and offered him a sad smile.

“It’s okay, baby,” she said. “I’ll take it away.” She kissed his lips tenderly. “Take it.”

Chapter 23

Jace opened his eyes to absolute darkness. His body was on fire. His throat drier than a saltine in the Mojave Desert. What had woken him? His bladder protested its fullness. Oh. The glow of the streetlight outside his apartment and the comforting purr of Brownie near his pillow sank into his addled thoughts. He was home? How had he gotten home? A warm hand rested on his belly. Oh yeah. Aggie.

God, he had to pee. He felt for the edge of the bed, rolled to his feet, and immediately hit the floor with a loud thud. Pain radiated through his shoulder and arm. Fuck, getting shot hurt, and not with that sweet, stinging agony he so enjoyed.

“Jace?” Aggie’s concerned voice came from the bed above him. She switched on a lamp and peered over the edge of the mattress. “Are you okay?”

He lay on the floor, simultaneously breathing through his pain and trying not to laugh so he didn’t piss himself. “Can you help me up? I need to get to the bathroom.”

So much for rescuing his damsel in distress. She’d done most of the rescuing, and now she was going to have to help him take a piss. Some hero I am.

Aggie climbed from the bed and hefted him to his feet. He clutched the chest of his hospital gown with one hand and held on to Aggie with the other. Apparently, those wonderful pain meds they’d dripped into him in the hospital had worn off.

“You’re burning up, baby,” Aggie said.

“I’m freezing.”

“We’ve got to get you back to the hospital,” she said. “If you get an infection—”

“No, I don’t need a hospital. I need a toilet.”

He leaned heavily on her as she helped him out of the bedroom and to the bathroom next door. He tried to get his balance, but decided without her support, he’d soon find himself on the floor again. He’d never felt so woozy.

“I can’t stay on my feet without you,” he whispered.

“Just go,” she insisted. “It won’t bother me.”

She helped him keep the hospital gown out of the way as he mostly hit the toilet. He couldn’t help but sigh with relief as he drained his bladder. His eyes rolled into his head in bliss. Aggie chuckled. When he’d finished, she helped him back to the bedroom and tucked him into bed.

“Thirsty,” he murmured, almost asleep again. Just the walk to the bathroom had sapped his energy.

She shook him awake and pressed a bottle to his lips. “Jace, you have to drink.”

When had he fallen asleep again?

“Jace? Please drink, baby.”

“Aggie?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Take a drink. Come on.”

The first swallow hurt going down, but then he couldn’t get enough. He chugged the icy sports drink until the bottle was empty, and then shivered uncontrollably. Why was he so cold? Aggie stood and started to leave him alone.

“Stay,” Jace whispered.

“I was going to get you another blanket.”

“Stay.”

She sat beside him, her fingers stroking his cheek. He could feel himself drifting back into oblivion, but wanted to keep his eyes open—wanted to look at her. He missed looking at her when they were apart, and they’d been apart far too long while he’d been touring last month. Aggie sniffed. A lone tear slipped down her cheek and dripped off the edge of her jaw.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured.

“This is my fault. If you’d never met me, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“If I’d never met you, I would have never gotten to hold you. I’ll take the bullet.”

He hadn’t meant to make her cry harder. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder. Her body quaked with sobs as she clung to him. “Don’t die on me, Jace, please.”

“Not planning to.”

He wanted to hold her, comfort her, but his exhaustion had reached absolute, and he had no choice but to succumb to it.

Chapter 24

The next time Jace opened his eyes, a bright light was shining in his face. “Ah good, you’re awake.” A blurry face came into focus. At first he thought it was Trey, but the man was older and lacked Trey’s long bangs and face piercings.

“Doctor Mills?”