Page 55 of The Surrender (Arlington Hall #2)

Bursts of dandelion fluff float in the air, the sunlight catching them, making me smile a little. Just a little. I feel my face muscles pull as I do, the strain almost too much. Staring at the headstone before me, I circle my stomach, a bunch of peonies in my grasp.

Jude would want me to do this. So I set about changing the flowers and refreshing the water, before dusting off the headstone and placing a fresh bottle of Chablis down.

I hadn’t planned on staying long, but it’s so quiet here, so peaceful and pretty.

Odd thing to say about a graveyard, I know.

I lower to the grass and start plucking blades, trying to remember all the things I wanted to say.

Isn’t it funny how you think constantly about something, unravel your words and feelings in your head, and then when it comes to the moment you have the chance to express it, you’re blank.

I’m completely blank, but the words and feelings are still there somewhere. Perhaps the universe doesn’t think I need to say anything. Maybe just one thing. “He loved you so much,” I whisper.

And that’s really all I need to say. So I leave the rest buried wherever it’s hiding inside me and get up, making my way to my car, smiling down at my feet in the long grass. But I don’t see my feet. I see a pair of beautiful emerald-green mules. Completely impractical. And totally Evelyn Harrison.

I get in and reach down to the passenger-side floor, pulling my bag up onto the seat.

Something catches my eye, tucked away in the corner.

My heart turns a little as I stretch and pick up Jude’s gold-rimmed Ray-Bans.

Turning them over in my hand, I see him in my mind’s eye.

Every glorious, unbroken, smiling piece of him.

My swallow is lumpy as I stare out the windscreen, seeing him holding my hand, running, the rain pouring down on us. I’m forced to shake my head clear and blink to stop the tears falling.

Then I slip on the shades and start the Jaguar, rolling slowly out of the churchyard.

The smell is familiar—one I wish weren’t. I reach the door and brace myself to see him. Brace myself for the guilt. Pushing my way in, I’m taken aback when I see he’s awake, even sitting up. The nurse is redressing one of his wounds.

She looks up and smiles mildly. “Look who’s wide awake.”

He’s been in and out for days, stressed, in pain.

They even had to sedate him yesterday because he was confused, thinking he needed to get up for work.

I was told it was the high dosage of meds, which were absolutely necessary after his surgeries.

A broken leg, five broken ribs, a punctured lung, ruptured spleen, countless cuts, and trauma to his neck and throat, which stopped him from being able to breathe alone.

The tracheotomy, done by the side of the road while I watched in horror, saved his life.

It’s hard to believe he’ll ever be okay again.

I unload my bag on the chair and check him over. And then he smiles at me, and for the first time in days, I believe everything really can be okay. I pull the chair closer and lower, taking his hand, being careful of the needle in the back.

“Hey,” I whisper, seeing he’s completely with it now. He just smiles again, his bare, bruised chest rising and falling as he breathes loudly.

“He’ll struggle to talk for a while,” the nurse says, tapping her throat.

The tube that was poking out from his throat is gone, a large dressing covering the incision. I wince.

“Doctor removed the tube now that the swelling in his neck and throat has subsided.”

I feel emotion creep up on me, and I will it back. I just have to look at him, take him all in, appreciate him.

“Are you in pain?” I ask, rolling my eyes to myself. He nods with effort. “Okay, just blink. Once for yes, two for no, okay?”

A small smile tips his lips, and it’s so fucking beautiful. Then he blinks once.

“I’ve got some more morphine here,” the nurse says, changing the bag on his drip stand. “Shall we try some water?”

I raise my brows at Jude. He’s still smiling.

I don’t know what he’s finding so amusing.

Look at the state of him. He blinks once.

“Yes, he’d like some water.” I look around and find a beaker cup.

Picking it up by the handle, I assess the spout, showing Jude.

He blinks twice, and I laugh a little, as does the nurse.

It’s so good to see him awake, even if he’s utterly broken.

And he won’t take his eyes off me, as if he can’t believe I’m here.

“Drink,” I order, putting the spout at his lips and tipping.

Poor thing is too incapacitated to object.

He drinks, and it’s painful to watch him swallow.

“Just a little,” the nurse says.

“Will he be able to eat?”

“Yes, but soft foods at first.” She pulls her gloves off and pops them in the bin. “Just use the buzzer if you need me.”

“Thank you.” I move closer, stroking the top of his hand, keeping his eyes. “Do you remember anything?” I ask. He blinks once, and I deflate, wishing he didn’t, if only because of how hideous and terrifying the whole horrid scene was. “Everything?”

Two blinks.

“You swerved to miss me.” I flinch away from the memory. It’s replayed in my head over and over, torturing me. Seeing his car upend and spin in midair, hearing the god-awful sounds of the metal bending and screaming.

Jude blinks once. He remembers that.

“You told me about your dad.”

One more blink.

I’m almost scared to ask if he remembers what I told him.

I sigh and run my eyes down the length of him.

I should tell him exactly what he’s recovering from now he’s fully with it.

“You have a broken leg,” I say. “The bone in your thigh. I can’t remember what it’s called.

The femur, I think.” He smiles a little, as if that’s something to celebrate.

“You have five broken ribs and a ruptured spleen.” My face bunches, and Jude remains looking mildly cheerful as I list his numerous injuries.

“Impact on your throat by something blunt meant they had to do an emergency tracheotomy. Do you remember that?” I ask, moving closer.

Two blinks, and I exhale my relief. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

My eyes well and Jude starts to blink over and over, shaking his head too. “I should have stopped sooner.”

More blinking, more shaking.

“I love you.” I’m struggling to get my words out, my throat closing. “I don’t care about how I came to love you, just that I do, and that you feel the same.”

He nods, telling me what I need to know.

“And do you remember what I told you before the crash?”

His eyes drop to my tummy, and I inhale. One blink. And definitely a widening of his smile.

“I’m pregnant,” I say anyway, my voice tight, my words shaky.

His eyes lift to mine, the green dull but still beautiful.

“Disgusting?” He blinks twice, and I laugh over a sob, moving in closer, getting my face as close to his neck as I can.

“I promise I’ll never walk away again.” I feel him squeeze my hand.

“I’ll always listen when you talk.” Another squeeze.

“See you when you stand in front of me.”

A knock at the door interrupts our moment and I peek up, seeing Casey and Rhys enter.

They both pause on the threshold and take in the mess of their brother on the bed.

My initial reaction is to yell at them for being so blissfully unaware of their brother’s turmoil.

I want to tell them what Jude’s burdened himself with for years to protect them from the added pain and grief he’s suffered.

But that’s not my call, and as I glance at Jude, I see with perfect clarity that he never will. But it’s no longer a burden.

“Well, look at the state of you,” Casey murmurs, approaching the bed. “Jesus.”

“He can’t talk.” I stand, smiling at Rhys.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, dipping and kissing my cheek.

“I’m okay.” Pregnant but okay.

“What the hell happened?” Casey asks, frowning at the dressing on Jude’s throat. I shift, the guilt coming on strong.

And Jude doesn’t miss it. “I ...” he rasps, scowling, lifting a heavy hand to his throat and feeling around the dressing.

“Don’t talk,” I say, and he exhales, tired.

And, of course, he completely ignores me. “I . . . had . . . a . . . sh . . . ock.”

I blink my surprise as his brothers glance back and forth between us. “A shock?” Casey asks.

Jude stares at me, blinking once, out of breath. He wants me to tell them? He blinks again. “I’m pregnant,” I murmur, eyes on Jude. He smiles. His brothers nearly choke.

“And you chose to tell him that while he was driving?” Casey asks, laughing. “Fucking hell, if you’d come to me first, Amelia, I would have told you straight you’d have to sit him down and put a strong drink in his hand first.”

I press my lips together, mortified, while Jude’s smile remains in place, his eyes more alive.

Rhys chuckles and goes to Jude, bending over his broken body. “This is a first,” he muses. “Remember all those times you whipped the back of my legs with a wet towel when we were kids?”

“F . . . uck . . . offff.”

“And now you’re helpless.”

Casey nudges Rhys in the side. “Do you remember when he tied us up and locked us in the garden shed when Mum made that gateau? Told her we were playing rugby at the park and ate the fucking lot himself?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Rhys mutters. “I still have scars from the cable ties he used.”

Jude blinks twice, shaking his head, and the three boys continue to banter, teasing each other, chatting. Or blinking.

“So, congratulations,” Casey says, laughing under his breath. Jude rolls his eyes with effort.

“I just need to make a few calls.” I hold up my phone. “Will you stay with him until I’m back?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Casey says, making Jude tilt his head a little. “I’ve taken some leave.”