Her teeth clenched. “You didn’t want to know. You said it yourself.”

“Well I do now.”

“Well I … can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.” She would never be able to make him understand. “I don’t want you to die.”

Why couldn’t he see the pleading in her eyes that said everything she couldn’t?

“Tell me what happened to you. Tell me and I’ll make an appointment with the oncologist on Monday.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I have a goddamn tumor in my head. Life’s not fair!”

She continued to shake her head. It was a nightmare. Eventually she would have to wake up. “You’re blackmailing me with your fucking life? What’s wrong with you? You have a son and parents who love you.”

“You don’t trust me.” He narrowed his eyes then turned toward the door.

“It’s not about trust!” She grabbed his arm. “Just…” the anger and desperation pulled the pin to another grenade inside her chest “…forget it ever happened. Please.”

He laughed. He actually laughed. Her anger held back the tears.

“Forget what? The biting and clawing? The broken nose? The fact that we can’t sleep in the same bed?”

“Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes as shame stole the last bit of fight she had left.

He pulled away from her. “I can’t.”

*

As she pushed open the front door, feeling weak with defeat, her phone vibrated with a text message.

Hebrews 9:22

“How’s he doing?”

The thundering of her pulse muffled the sound of Jackson’s voice. Some fucker kept vying for her attention, trying to cripple her with fear, when AJ’s doctors had already given her an overdose of it.

“He has a brain tumor.”

“Jill …” He pulled her into his arms, but still no tears, just a cold numbness. “Cancer?”

“They’re not sure yet, but it seems inoperable and AJ doesn’t want treatment.” She stepped back, laughing at the morbidity of the situation. “Let me rephrase that … he’ll agree to treatment if I tell him about my past.”

“Oh … you’re not thinking of—”

“No, I’m not going to tell him.” She shrugged. “What’s one more death to my name?”

“It’s not your fault.”

Shaking her head, she held up her phone. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably die before him.”

Jackson plucked it from her hand. A squint of confusion etched along his forehead. He searched for its meaning. “Indeed, under the law almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.”

“What if it’s him?”

Jillian narrowed her eyes. “Who?”

“AJ.”

“Not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny.”

“Jesus, Jackson! Did you hear me say he has a brain tumor? It gives him migraines, and seizures, it’s probably the reason his personality flips without a moment’s notice, but he’s not a stalker.”

“Maybe one of his personalities is.”

“It’s not.”

“Nothing else makes sense. Trigger and Four are dead. If it were the people responsible for Mom and Dad, they wouldn’t play this cat and mouse game … we’d simply be dead.”

Jillian put her hands over her face and sighed with a little grumble. “Tell Knox to get me a new phone. I’m going to bed … for the next month. Don’t wake me.”

*

The overprotective and sometimes doting brother hated being the bastard, but someone had to be. After three days of Jillian leaving her bedroom only for water, Jackson yanked her from the black hole.

“Time’s up. I’ll give you five seconds to get out of bed before I start your intervention.”

“Touch me and I’ll kill you,” Jillian warned from under her rat’s nest of covers.

“I welcome the challenge. At this point I’d welcome any sign of life from you. Maybe you need a good ass-kicking.”

“Jackson!” she yelled and flailed as he heaved her over his shoulder and carried her to the bathroom. Depositing her stubborn ass in the shower, he turned the lever until an icy stream of water rained on her.

She clawed at the walls and slipped along the floor like a drowning cat.

“Wash up. You stink.”

An hour later she emerged from her room with clean clothes and wet hair. “He loves me. And he’s dying. That’s messed up, right?” She looked at Jackson through vacant eyes.

He could confirm AJ’s impending death, but not from his tumor. “He’s not dying, not today anyway. I’d call it shock. Once he accepts the reality of his situation, he’ll man up, let them fry half his brain with some experimental treatment, and live happily ever after with his psychotic neighbor.”

“Not funny.”

Jackson cradled her face then sighed at her lifelessness. “I’ll never stop reminding you that you are the strongest person I have ever known because when you hit the lowest depths of hell, you choose to claw your way out every time. It’s not what you do … it’s who you are. You’re a survivor.”

The bravest woman alive sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m not. You … I’d die without you.”

He hugged her. “You wouldn’t. I think a meteor could hit Earth and wipe out the human population with the exception of you.”

She grunted. “I’m not invincible.”

Jackson kissed the top of her head. She encompassed his world. “You are to me.”

Even the protector of this brave woman lived with his own demons. Had he followed his instincts, he could have saved Claire’s life and in turn, his sister’s. Instead he waited for their dad to get home nearly twenty-four hours later.

Twenty-four hours too late.

He never told his sister that, and he swallowed the guilt every day of his life. Nothing but more pain could come from what-ifs.

“I have a lesson in two hours and I have a few errands to run. So eat something and call Dodge and Lilith. They’ve been worried about you.”

Jillian nodded.

“And ice your eyes or something … your face just looks all kinds of wrong right now.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Anytime.”

*

Jillian forced down a piece of dry toast then lay down with teabags on her eyes. The man who would always have her heart was alive, but she would never see him again. The man who made her think love was possible without said heart was right next door, but he was on a cruel suicide mission and eventually he would die and she would never see him again.

Maybe she would be the last person standing. It was just her and life—both equally crazy.

The doorbell rang. Tossing the teabags in the trash, she shuffled her bare feet to the door.

“Hi.” Jillian mustered a smile at the woman standing on her stoop.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. I’m Ryn Middleton. I clean AJ’s house.” She pointed next door. “There’s usually a key under his planter, but it’s not there. And the garage code doesn’t work either. I tried his cell phone but it goes straight to voicemail.”

Jillian laughed a little. She had no doubt that AJ was trying to keep someone out of his house, but it wasn’t Ryn. “He’s had some issues lately. I’m sure it’s just an oversight on his part.”

Ryn wrinkled her nose a bit. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or get you in trouble, but would you happen to have a spare key to his place? I’ve been cleaning his house for over five years so I’m not a thief or anything. I just have a really full schedule, so if I don’t clean for him today he’ll have to wait another two weeks.”

Jillian smiled. “I do actually.” She held up a finger. “Just let me grab it.”

The woman, to whom the rules did not apply, returned with a small black box. Ryn raised a brow.

“I’ll open it for you. I’m Jillian, by the way.”

Ryn followed as Jillian’s boots squeaked with each step through the dewy grass to AJ’s front door. “Uh … that doesn’t look like a key,”

“It’s a universal key. Comes in quite handy. You should think about getting one. I’m sure this isn’t the first house you’ve been locked out of.”