Chapter 80

When she said his name, Jason's whole body stiffened.

"Do you hate Jason Reed?" he murmured.

She sighed. "Everyone in this city knows him. When I had the car accident, Jennifer Atkinson was his fiancée. So, of course, I wasn't going to get off easily. How many people want to curry favor with him? How many would hurt me to gain his favor?"

Grace's eyes took on a faraway look. "Who knows maybe if that accident had involved someone else—someone other than Jennifer Atkinson—I could have won the lawsuit. Would I have been spared three years in jail and all that followed? Maybe." Her eyes met his, earnest and pleading. "I didn't drink and drive, Jay. I wouldn't. I still can't understand how the evidence corroborated that."

Jason knew the case intimately. She wasn't angry or sad, but the faint self-deprecation she showed made him feel intensely guilty. Perhaps half her pain stemmed from him.

He squatted before her, staring at her hands. "If I had known you would suffer so much, I would have protected you three years ago."

This wasn't related to the game; it came from the bottom of his heart. He hated the thought that she had suffered because of him. He was cold, yes, but he considered himself fair. He wasn't cruel. And Grace had been tortured solely to win his favor for her tormentors.

The thought sickened him.

Back then, he hadn't cared. But now that he knew her, now that he believed her account of the accident… it opened something in his chest, a deep ache of regret.

"I know you would have defended me," Grace said, patting his hand. "Alright, let's not talk about this." She smiled, then lifted a hand to rub his dark hair—something she'd been doing more and more lately.

Lina entered the hallway, pausing beside them, shifting her feet awkwardly. "I, uh, got the medicine," she said. "And Dr. Craigge included two other prescriptions we can fill when we get you home."

"Thank you, Lina," Grace said.

"I'll get the car from the underground parking lot. Jay, help Grace to the entrance and wait for me."

"Alright," Jason agreed.

He slid his arms beneath her legs.

"J-Jay, what are you doing?"

"It should be obvious, shouldn't it?"

"They have wheelchairs; you don't need to carry me."

"That walking boot isn't sufficient. You'll need crutches." He hefted her into his arms, moving as if to carry her back to the hospital room to argue for the crutches with the doctor.

"No, no," Grace said. "I'm fine. I just need some rest."

"Exactly," Jason agreed. "That means rest from walking," he said simply.

"I'm too heavy for you to carry me like this!"

Jason laughed. "Don't be absurd. You hardly weigh anything."

It was true. He'd noticed it the other night, when he'd lifted her from the table to the bed.

She tensed in his arms. "Relax, Grace," he whispered. "I won't drop you."

"I know," she said.

She rested her head against his chest.

Jason felt his heart race. Her scent. Her nearness. Knowing she was alright after he'd feared the worst… it sent a rush of blood to his head. His eyes were filled with a tenderness he hadn't known he possessed.

Grace put an arm around his neck and clung to him. He lifted her higher, held her closer. His lips brushed the top of her head.

"Thank you for coming for me, Jay."

He made a noncommittal sound and walked out of the emergency room toward the hospital entrance.