15

HOW JESS WISHED FOR PETE’S JACKET BACK. But it had been used to stop his bleeding and was probably in some waste bin or in a bag with the rest of his clothing.

Everything had happened so quickly when they reached the hospital chopper pad. Two ER docs were waiting to transport Pete out of the chopper and into the ER. And Gage hopped out, giving Pete’s vitals as he passed him over into their care. Pete’s heartbeat had dropped precariously low, and Gage had found fluid in Pete’s ears.

Dr. Watson, Gage’s neurosurgeon mother, had met them in the ER, and while Jess fought the nurses’ urging to get medical attention, she listened to Dr. Watson’s exam, then walked with Pete all the way down the corridor as they trundled him off for a CT scan.

They’d found internal bleeding, two broken ribs, and a subdural hematoma.

He’d been in surgery for two hours.

Meanwhile, the ER sent her for X-rays and found a hairline cracked wrist. Gage’s father, an orthopedic surgeon, came down to set it—mostly out of courtesy, but Gage sat with her, kept her from leaping off the gurney and digging a pacing trench through the waiting area.

Gage had also found her some scrubs, as well as a sweater of his mother’s. Jess had showered and brushed her teeth. Busyness to keep herself from losing her mind.

From believing that everything she loved, everything she’d finally decided to hold on to—no, to leap for—was being snatched away.

Please, God. Save us all here. Not because we deserve it, but because you love us.

She stood now at the window, staring at her reflection, a faded, wan image against the shadowed pane.

She probably needed sleep, but her body was on full-out buzz, her nerves frayed so thin she hadn’t a hope of sleep . . . well, not until she knew Pete would live.

The door opened behind her, and footsteps made her turn.

Felipe. He looked rugged and worn out. He didn’t stop, just came straight for her and held his arms out.

She stepped into his embrace, the warmth of it so familiar.

“How is he?”

“He’s in surgery. He has internal bleeding, a broken shoulder, a gunshot wound, and a head trauma and . . .” She closed her eyes. “Felipe, I . . .”

“Shh.” He leaned back and lifted her chin. “I can see how much you love him.”

“Felipe.” She cupped her hands on his face, met his eyes. “Go after Gabrielle.”

“Selene, I—”

“I saw the way she looked at you in New York. Pete might know a man’s face when he’s whipped, but I know a woman who is in love. She loves you, and I don’t care what your father says. She’s worth the risk, right?”

He drew in a breath.

“You don’t want someone who loves you just enough. You want someone who would pursue you . . . all the way to New York City. That’s why she was here, wasn’t it? Because she definitely looked shocked and upset when you told her we were engaged.”

He swallowed. “I think so. She wrote to me and told me she’d broken up with her British viscount, and . . .”

“She told you it was because she loved you, didn’t she?”

He looked away.

“C’mon, Felipe. It’s time for you to have your happy ending too.” She lifted herself onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “You’re an amazing fake fiancé. But I’m breaking up with you.”

A sad smile creased his face. “I still think we’re a better match. Felipe and Selene. But you’re right . . . I watched you out there climbing down to him, and it struck me . . . you are Jess. You are this amazing, brave rescuer, and yes, you’ll always be Selene, but she was . . . she was in a box. Here, you’re free, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “And it’s not just Pete. It’s . . . well, when I came out here, it was just me. I discovered who I was. I know I perpetuated a lie, but I also lived in the truth for the first time. I like the me I am out here. And Pete helped me see that.”

Felipe pushed a strand of drying hair back, tucking it behind her ears. “No makeup.”

She frowned.

“You never went without makeup in New York City. Not in college, not ever.”

“I never wear it here.”

“You don’t need it anyway.” He sighed. “What you said out there. About love being worth the risk? You’re right.” He drew in a breath. “I called Gabrielle on my way here.”

“Wow.” Huh. “Really, that was—”

“About time, I know. I just . . . I thought, if you could climb down a cliff to the man you love, I could pick up a phone.”

“So brave.” She winked.

“I woke her up. She’s still in New York City. I’m going back. Today.”

Jess smoothed her hand over the PEAK jacket he still wore. “You sure? This looks good on you.”

“Not as good as it does on you.” He took her shoulders and leaned in, kissing her on the forehead. “Are you going to be okay?”

The door opened behind him, and she spotted Ty coming in. He was mud-splattered and road weary but gave her a smile.

“I’m in good hands.”

Ty clamped his hand on Felipe’s shoulder. Grinned at them.

“We’re not engaged anymore,” Felipe said.

“Oh, I know Jess’s games,” Ty said with a wink. “I figured there was more to the story.”

Felipe frowned, and Jess gave Ty a little shake of her head.

“Anyone want coffee?” Ty turned to the coffeemaker and grabbed a cup. “By the way, we found the truck. You ran about three miles, if Ned is right about where you camped that first night.”

“I wouldn’t call it camping.” But a strange sense of pride swelled through her. “We were pretty awesome,” she said.

“Who knew Selene Taggert had it in her? You’re such a toughie.” Ty held up his hand for a fist bump.

She met it.

“Seriously! You can’t stay out of trouble for one minute?” The voice accompanied the bold entrance of Sierra Shaw. She didn’t stop but made straight for Jess and pulled her into an embrace. “Scared us all to death, thank you.” Sierra put her away. “And you broke your wrist? Good grief, Jess.” But her eyes had filled.

“Hey,” Jess said. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, well, the upstairs toilet at your house leaks, and they delivered the wood for the back deck roughly a year ago, so anytime you want to pick up your hammer, I’m ready.”

Jess laughed. “You don’t even live there anymore.”

“I’m just relaying Willow’s complaints.”

“Where is she?”

“She went to pick up Maren. Sam and Chet are on their way up.”

“Ian?”

“With Shae. And Ned. And apparently Ned’s brothers are here. But even more—Blackburn tried to kill her.”

“What?” Jess stepped away from her. “Are you kidding me? He was so . . . well, for a bit there, I thought maybe Shae got it wrong.”

“Oh no, she got it right.” This from Gage, who had come in. “I just talked to Ian. Blackburn is cooling his heels at the county jail. I just got off the phone with Ella. Shae has finally agreed to give her statement about what happened to Dante. And, of course, Blackburn’s attack.”

“What happened?”

Gage poured himself a cup of coffee. “He tried to smother her. But Ned came in, took him down. Or maybe . . . I don’t know. I think his brother might have been there. Ned got roughed up a bit.”

“Ned was already roughed up. A lot,” Jess said. “If it weren’t for him, we might not have made it.”

“That’s not how he explained it,” Gage said quietly. “He seems to think that you’re the big hero here. That you made all the tough decisions that saved them.”

“I think . . . we just kept moving forward. And trusted that God would save us.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that for a while now,” Ty said.

She hadn’t noticed, but Felipe had moved toward the door. He glanced over at her, met her gaze, and offered a smile.

Then he was gone.

Just like that, out of her life. She swallowed back a thickness in her throat.

Ty handed her the cup of coffee. She sipped it, her stomach roaring. But she couldn’t eat—not until Pete was out of surgery.

Maren and Chet came in, followed by Sam and Willow. Jess greeted Pete’s mother with a hug, and hung on for a long while to Chet. When he stepped away, his eyes were wet.

Willow updated her on the house and showed her the solitaire Sam had given her.

“About time,” Jess said to Sam.

“Yeah, well, right back at you.” He leaned close. “Please tell me that the fact that I saw Felipe leaving means you and Pete figured things out.”

“I think so,” Jess said. “No more fake engagement.”

Sam frowned, and right about then, the door opened and Dr. Watson walked in. She came over to Maren and Sam.

“Pete’s out of surgery and did well. Had some internal bleeding, a couple broken ribs, and a ruptured spleen, but we were able to remove it. The subdural hematoma wasn’t as bad as we thought. The bleeding had already stopped by the time we went in to drain it. We’ll monitor him for any additional brain trauma, but his prognosis looks good.”

Ty touched Jess’s elbow, and just in time, because her knees nearly buckled. He pulled her into an embrace, held her up. “See. He’ll be fine.”

“Can I see him?” Jess asked but glanced at Maren and Sam, just to make sure.

Maren took her arm.

“Follow me,” Dr. Watson said.

Jess and Maren followed her down the hallway and into a room. A nurse was logging Pete’s blood pressure. “We just brought him from recovery,” she said. “He’s a bit groggy.”

He looked brutal. A gray-black bruise covered one side of his face, and his beautiful blond hair was shaved and his head bandaged. IVs ran from his arm, and an oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose, which was taped, probably broken. His shoulder was wrapped, his arm drawn up to splint it, and so many bruises covered his body that he looked like he’d been run over by buffalo.

“I love you. I would die to save you.”

Oh Pete.

She stepped forward and touched his hand. Found it cool. “Pete?”

He didn’t move. She stepped closer, leaned down, her mouth close to his ear. “It’s me, Jess.”

A heart monitor buzzed.

“What’s happening?”

“His heart is beating too fast,” Dr. Watson said. She moved over to him as Jess backed away. “He’s tachycardic, let’s—”

The machine flatlined.

Pete!

“Call a code,” Watson said. “Everybody out of the way. Now!”

The breath off the pristine slopes filled Pete’s lungs. A chill tightened his nose, brushed his lips, and he suppressed a shiver, despite the layers he wore. Gore-Tex jacket, his black pants, and on his feet, his skis, sharpened and slick.

The glorious day stretched out forever, the sky so blue he could dive in, the jagged peaks of the Rocky Mountains iced with foam and glinting against the brilliant sunshine.

The wind called to him, stirring the trees, swirling through him, and it urged him forward.

Except.

Something. Pete looked around, but in this place, he was alone. On the top of the peak, just the dervishes of snow for company.

He turned back to the slope, pristine and uncut.

Surrendered to the pull.

He shot off fast, straight down, gathering speed as he cut into the powder, his feet tight, together, one elegant form. He leaned, riding back and cutting hard, moving his blades through the frosting, slicing through the thickness. A fluid motion that swelled power through him. He rode the turn over, eased up, and leaned the other direction, repeating the movement.

Snow plumed as he cut, the spray tickling his cheeks. He licked his cold lips, felt the moisture on them.

Overhead, an eagle cried, the only audience, it seemed, to his dance, his freedom.

Except.

He braked, breathing hard, and looked back, his heart pounding, searching. A voice. He heard it call to him. Pete.

Nothing but the eagle dipping into the currents overhead. He watched it soar. Listened.

Turned back to the mountain run below.

Shaggy pine trees jutted out of the white, pins in the cushion, and he set himself to gliding between them with arms out.

He emerged onto a jutted rock and crouched into the jump, leaping as he found air.

Flying.

He landed easily, bouncing up into the pillow of snow, gaining momentum.

Pete.

He heard it then. A low voice, deep in his bones. He braked hard, his legs on fire as he skidded through the snow. Breathing in the slick cold, he leaned over his poles. Searched the slope.

Even the eagle had departed. There was nothing but his breath razoring in and out. The thunder of his heartbeat.

“Pete.”

He jerked up, around.

Froze. A man stood in the snow, on an outcropping overlooking the mountain.

He wore a blue jacket and black ski pants, and lifted his pole, waving.

Pete’s breath caught even as he pushed off, moving toward the man. Dad?

He smiled as Pete came closer. He stood easily in his boots, leaning on his pole.

Dad.

Pete stopped at the edge of the cliff. Snow trickled from the edge into the white.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” his dad said.

Pete just stared at him. Healthy, strong, a hint of a cloud that evidenced his breathing. Alive. “You have?”

“Yeah.” He turned, stared out at the horizon, at the towering peaks, at the sun, its rays blinding in their glory. “I wanted you to see this view.”

Pete looked down at the cliff’s edge.

“No, Pete, look up. At the blue. At the immense glory of the heavens.”

Yeah, it was his father, all right, the poet of their family. Once upon a time, Pete had wanted to be exactly like him.

Still did. A warmth started at his core, wrapping around him. Pete tented his hand over his eyes, stared at the heavens.

“It’s like flying. Or skiing on a pristine slope.”

“What is?”

“Love. Eternity.”

Pete looked at him.

“Stop trying so hard, son. Just be still. Rest. Check out the view.” His father opened his arm to the horizon. “This is what grace looks like.”

Blue, as far as he could see, the glorious mountains rising high, powerful, glistening with a palate of frothy snow, clear and bright and perfect.

A hard ball formed in Pete’s chest.

Pressure on his shoulder.

His father’s gaze met his, unwavering. “You are my son, and I forgive you. You do not have to be afraid anymore. You have been declared not guilty, Pete, for all eternity.”

Pete blinked, his throat tight.

“Breathe it in and be set free.”

The sun moved into Pete’s eyes, and he closed them, aware of the heat glazing them.

“I love you, son. Go in grace.”

“Come on, Pete. C’mon—please!”

Not his father’s voice, and pain jerked him back into the room, into the harsh light, the screech of machines.

“He’s back!”

Pete opened his eyes, breathing in hard. A nurse hovered over him, holding paddles. She backed away, and he took another rasping breath, his body buzzing.

“Welcome back.” A familiar face—he couldn’t place it, however—leaned over him. She wore scrubs and had her hair tucked into a surgical cap. “You had us scared for a bit there.”

He blinked, still hearing his father’s voice, and looked past the woman to . . . Jess? She stood at the foot of his bed, tears cutting down her face.

“Hey, handsome,” she said. She wore a pair of scrubs, and her hair was damp and clean. She had so much love in her eyes it radiated through him and touched his core.

Go in grace.

“Jess.” His voice emerged raspy and dry, and only then did he realize he wore an oxygen mask pumping brisk air into his mouth and nose.

“You had some massive bleeding there, buddy, from your fall, and the doc had to go in and stop it.” Sam was standing on the other side of the bed. “Sorry, dude, you’re short your spleen. And you’ve got a hole in your head, which we all knew, really.”

Behind him stood his mother, wiping her face, Chet’s hand on her shoulder.

“Okay, hero, you keep that heart beating.” The doctor—oh yes, he recognized her now. Gage’s mother. “I’ll be in later to check on you.”

“Thank you, Doc,” Sam said.

Behind her, the door opened and Gage came into the room, followed by Ty.

Ty held a cup of coffee, his eyes wide. “What just happened?”

“Pete decided to go code blue on us,” Sam said. “The jerk.” But he grinned and squeezed Pete’s leg.

Jess stepped up next to him and took Pete’s hand. Held it to her chest. “Don’t do that again.”

“What?” he managed.

“Everything. Jump off a cliff. Decide to die. Scare me to death.”

She was so beautiful looking down at him with those blue eyes that she could probably send him into another heart-stopping event. But he wouldn’t mention that now.

This is what grace looks like.

Yes. Yes, it was. He reached up and moved the mask aside. “So. What did I miss?”