Liam didn’t even spare Bernice a glance. "I don’t want to talk to you. Move." His voice dropped an octave, a clear warning.
But Bernice? She was too dense to take the hint. She stepped right into his face, her perfu too strong, her delusions even stronger.
"Why? Can’t handle the truth about that nasty little b*tch Joanne?" she sneered.
Liam’s fingers flexed into fists. Then, unclenched. Then, clenched again.
If a man had said that to his face, they’d be picking their teeth off the floor.
But unfortunately for him, this wasn’t a man. It was a rabid chihuahua in designer heels.
So, instead of knocking her into next week, he simply shoved her aside and strode toward the captain. He had business.
Business with his brother.
Too bad the captain knew exactly what Liam wanted and shut that down real fast. No visits. No "private chats." Tom was officially booked, and the case was filed. The captain showed the proof.
Which ant one thing: Tom wasn’t walking out of here anyti soon.
Or at least, he better not.
With the congressman backing Tom, Liam knew his brother was already plotting. A bail request, a quiet escape to so safe house until the court case...Well, typical coward behavior.
Well, if the system couldn’t keep him locked up... Liam would find other ways.
Without another word, he left the precinct.
Bernice followed, like a mosquito that just wouldn’t die.
She was shouting sothing. Probably lies. Or complaints. Or whatever nonsense spewed from her overly glossed lips.
Liam?
He ignored her. Completely.
Because if he did listen...
He’d be arrested for aggravated assault.
And Bernice?
She wasn’t worth the jail ti.
-----
Jeffrey sat by Joanne’s side, waiting. The soft beeping of the monitors filled the dimly lit hospital room, lulling him into a half-dreaming state. His eyelids grew heavy, his head dipping forward, until he caught himself and forced his eyes open.
He didn’t want to miss it.
He didn’t want to wake up to find she had already stirred, and he wasn’t the first thing she saw.
So, he stood, pacing quietly, hands in his pockets, stealing glances at her peaceful face.
Joanne, in her mind, was lost in a perfect dream.
A vast adow stretched before her, rolling hills bathed in golden light. Sheep bleated softly in the distance, wild horses ran free, and a gentle breeze caressed her face, making the soft fabric of her sundress dance around her. Fluffy barked excitedly, chasing butterflies with clumsy delight. Her chickens happily clucked away.
Then, from the horizon, a silhouette erged, frad by the setting sun.
Jeffrey.
He strode toward her—strong, steady, majestic, like so Prince out of a storybook. The way he looked at her made her heart bloom.
Smiling, he reached out and placed sothing delicate in her palm.
A four-leaf clover.
Their fingers intertwined, and together they wandered beneath the shade of an ancient oak, talking about everything and nothing, lost in a world where only they existed.
It was bliss.
Pure, untouched bliss.
And then... he knelt.
Joanne’s breath caught, her pulse hamring in her chest.
Was this it?
A velvet box appeared in his hand, his gaze never leaving hers.
Excitent bubbled within her. She leaned in, eager to see the ring he had chosen for her.
But...
She could see no ring.
Only light.
Blinding, all-consuming light.
It grew, expanding outward, erasing the adow, swallowing the sky, tearing away the warmth and peace she had been wrapped in.
Joanne whimpered in distress.
No...
"My ring..." she murmured, trying to reach for it, but it was gone—slipping away, just like the dream itself.
Jeffrey, mid-step in his pacing, froze.
Did she just say sothing?
He rushed to her side, heart pounding. Her brows twitched, lips trembling with faint movent. Tilting his head, he listened to what she was saying.
"Ring... my ring..." she whispered.
Jeffrey’s tense shoulders eased, a soft chuckle escaping him.
Oh, she sure wants her ring.
And maybe, just maybe... he should make that dream a reality.
Soon.
But first, he needed to be ready. To be the man she deserved—the man of a household, strong and capable. He still had so growing to do.
For her, he’d do it.
"Jo..." he whispered, taking her hand in his.
Her fingers twitched slightly before her eyelids fluttered open. At first, her gaze was unfocused, but then it settled on him.
"Jeff..."
A slow, sleepy smile spread across her face, as if seeing him was the best thing to ever happen to her.
And God, did that smile wreck him.
"Jeffrey..." She reached out.
He took her hand without hesitation, pressing a kiss to her fingers. "I’m here, Joanne."
Her smile deepened. But that lived only for a short ti.
Pain.
A sharp, unwelco ache crawled through her skull, dragging flashes of mory to the surface—cold tile against her cheek, helplessness weighing her down, the overwhelming, suffocating feeling of filth.
"Ugh..." She winced, shutting her eyes.
"Does it hurt?" Jeffrey asked, his voice filled with concern.
She nodded weakly.
Without wasting a second, he adjusted her IV, increasing the dosage of her pain dication. As he did, she watched him—really looked at him. He was freshly changed, but exhaustion clung to him. His features were tight, his eyes shadowed.
"How long have you been here?" she asked.
He let out a breath, shaking his head as if that didn’t matter.
"What ti is it? Who won the match? Who presented the cheques?" she asked, attempting to change the subject.
Jeffrey exhaled sharply through his nose, almost a laugh, almost a sigh.
Joanne patted the empty space beside her, silently inviting him to sit. The dication would take ti to work, and she wanted him close until it did.
He hesitated for a mont before relenting, lowering himself onto the bed beside her.
"I need to call the doctor," he murmured. "The cops want to talk to you too."
But she barely heard him. Her gaze remained fixed on his face, morizing the lines of his exhaustion, the quiet way his features softened when he looked at her.
How was this real?
How was he real?
"Was it scary?" Jeffrey asked, brushing his fingers gently along her cheek.
Joanne swallowed.
She nodded. It had been terrifying—not because she feared for her life, but because, in that mont, she had felt like she might lose control over herself entirely. That kind of helplessness... It was horrifying.
"Were you scared?" she asked, turning the question on him.
Jeffrey’s throat hurt, his eyes reddening.
He leaned in, pressing his lips to her forehead.
"Thank you for coming back, Jo," he whispered. His hand holding the back of her head trembled.
That told Joanne how much he suffered.
Just then, they heard a knock at the door.
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