Chapter XIX

(Jane)

I sped through the streets of New York, breaking every traffic rule imaginable, only to end up here, head slumped against the steering wheel of JayJay's car, parked in front of the hospital. The relentless blare of car horns and the city's hum seem distant, drowned out by the echo of her voice in my head, "She loves you." But does she? Has the endless struggle to free myself from Casey's grip—every sleepless night, every choice—finally led me to this? And yet, here I am, rooted to the seat, paralyzed not by doubt, but by the fear that my own damaged ego might ruin everything. Again.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the crippling spiral of negativity, but it clings to me like the city's sticky humidity. I inwardly curse myself for slipping back into these self-destructive thoughts, despite the hours of therapy, despite knowing better. It's this damn mind-fuck.

"Pull yourself together, Jane!" I mutter, the sound too sharp in the confined space. My hand jerks as I slam the car door harder than necessary, the echo of the metal reverberating in the quiet of the early morning. My heart pounds, my pulse loud in my ears, as I force myself toward the hospital's entrance, each step quicker than the last. The sterile scent hits me as I walk through the automatic doors, but I barely notice, focused solely on her. On Maura.

I pause before the door to her room, sucking in a deep breath, willing the knot of tension in my chest to loosen. My fingers tremble as I push the door open. The room is dark, the dim lights from the corridor casting long shadows across the floor. For a moment, I stand there, frozen, until I hear it—soft, almost imperceptible, a sound that cuts right through me.

A quiet whimper.

It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the gloom, but then I see her—Maura, sitting hunched on the bed, her hands covering her face, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Even in the shadows, I can see the exhaustion weighing her down, feel the quiet desperation in every tremor of her body. The sight nearly undoes me, the swell of emotion crashing into me all at once. It drowns out every doubt, every question that's haunted me since I pulled up outside.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

I cross the room in a few quick steps, my hesitation gone, replaced by a fierce need to be beside her. To hold her. To make the tears stop.

(Maura)

Over two hours have passed since JayJay left with a promise, a lifeline I've been clinging to—two hours in which I haven't slept, despite my body's desperate plea for rest. My mind refuses to still, thoughts racing, looping, twisting. The tears haven't stopped, falling as I try to stave off an exhaustion so deep it makes me feel hollow. Everything is on the line now—JayJay, my safety net, is gone. I've broken up with her for Jane. But what if she doesn't find her? What if Jane... doesn't come back to me? The fear gnaws at me, sharp and relentless, winding itself around every heartbeat.

Lost in my misery, I don't hear the soft creak of the door opening. I nearly jump out of my skin when two familiar, strong arms wrap around me from behind. There's a split second of confusion, but then the scent of lavender—her scent—reaches me, filling the space between us, and I feel the warmth of her breath, followed by the softest kiss on my temple. My body awakens from its shock, instinctively leaning into her embrace, melting into the warmth that only Jane can bring.

"I... I missed you," I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible as I wipe the tears from my cheeks with the sleeve of my nightgown. The words come out in fragments, fragile like the exhaustion settling deeper into my bones.

"I'm sorry. I'm here." Her voice is soft too, as if spoken into the darkness itself, but it's enough. Those simple words are enough to steady the racing storm inside me.

I turn slightly, resting my head under her chin, my lips grazing her neck in a gesture that's more instinct than thought. The weight of the past few hours hits me like a wave, the adrenaline ebbing away, leaving me drowning in exhaustion. A deep sigh escapes me, unbidden, as I snuggle closer to her, Jane's arms tightening around me as though she knows exactly how much I need to feel anchored in this moment.

Without words, she's already maneuvered us into a lying position, her body curling around mine like a shield against the remnants of fear still swirling inside me.

"Comfortable like this?" I hear her ask, her voice gentle, distant. I manage the faintest nod, the last of my resistance slipping away, before sleep—blessed, heavy sleep—finally claims me, cocooned in Jane's warmth.