Page 63 of When Ben Loved Jace (He Loved Him #2)

“At this point, I’ll take what I can get.”

“He mentioned wanting a television in the trailer,” Jace says, still lost in a blissful vision of parenthood.

I set my hunger aside to join him there. “Yeah, but I don’t want him watching TV by himself. Not on his first night. We should go out and do something fun.”

“But he has to decide if he likes being here ,” my husband counters. “We should make that as appealing as possible.” He grimaces and rubs the back of his neck.

“Do you want a massage?” I ask, perking up, because if I’m not going to get breakfast, there are other appetites I wouldn’t mind satisfying. “We won’t have as much privacy in the future.”

He smiles. “Maybe later. I woke up with a headache.”

I sigh. “Maybe it’s hunger-induced. ”

“We should do something as a family,” Jace says, returning to his favorite subject as of late. And admittedly, mine as well. “Are board games lame these days?”

I shrug. “I think card games are more popular. You know, the kind with obscene answers that you have to pair with a subject or… Are you okay?”

Jace is grimacing again. “Yeah. Maybe I slept wrong.” He rolls his neck back and forth. “Except it’s more like a headache at the base of my skull.”

“That’s weird. Maybe you should take an aspirin.”

“Good idea.” He stands and braces himself on the table. “Dizzy.”

“Let’s get some food in your belly. How about some eggs?”

He nods. I get up and start taking things out of the refrigerator. “We could order pizza while Jason is here,” I suggest. “That’ll never go out of style. Or we could cook together, but I’d rather him think that we’re fun.”

“We don’t want him to realize the boring truth until it’s too late,” Jace replies. “How many of these can I take? What’s the maximum?”

“That bad?” I ask, setting a carton of eggs down while assessing him.

“Yeah. I think…” The bottle slips from his hand, a shower of pills bouncing off the counter, little ping-pong balls that scatter across the floor. Jace turns toward me, his eyes widening in fear. “Something’s wrong."

“What?”

He doesn’t answer. Jace’s legs crumple beneath him, one hand grabbing the edge of the counter, his fingers slipping off as he falls to his side.

I go rigid in panic before some instinct kicks into gear.

I rush over to him, skidding on my knees, so I can place his head on my lap.

Jace’s breaths are short and irregular, his eyelids fluttering shut and open again, like he’s fighting against losing consciousness.

“Ben!” he manages to gasp, his body twitching.

What is this? A seizure? I don’t know what to do! My phone is on the table, which feels like a million miles away. “Hold on,” I say, scooting out from under him.

He doesn’t respond.

“Can you hear me? ”

Nothing.

I scramble toward the table, my hands shaking so much when I grab my phone that I can’t type the stupid number in. Isn’t there some sort of shortcut to call emergency services? I can’t remember. I hurry back to him as he convulses again. I hear a woman’s distant voice and press the phone to my ear.

“We need help!” I blubber. “My husband is having a seizure.” I rattle off our address, twice in a row, just in case. “Send an ambulance! Hurry!”

“I’ll have one dispatched to your location immediately—”

I set down the phone so I can place his head on my lap again, unsure what else to do. What if he stops breathing? What if—

The thought is unthinkable.

“Help is on the way,” I tell him.

His eyelids flutter again, like he’s trying to find his way back to me.

“You’re going to be okay,” I croak while choking back my tears. “I promise! Just hold on.”

Samson creeps across the floor toward us, his body low to the ground, so he can sniff one of Jace’s hands.

“Samson is here too,” I say. “You’re going to be okay.”

Jace tries to say something, but I can’t understand him.

“I love you,” I splutter, my tears dotting his face. “Just hang in there.”

Jace tries to move, a hand pawing at the air before his arm flops to the floor again.

This sends Samson scurrying away. I keep whispering assurances to him, insisting that everything is going to be all right, even though I don’t know if that’s true.

But it has to be, because I can’t live without him.

After what feels like eternity. I finally hear sirens.

“They’re here! I’ll be right back. I have to unlock the door.”

“Ben…”

Hope explodes into my heart. “You’re doing great! Just hold on.”

I slip out from beneath him again and gently rest his head on the kitchen floor.

Then I sprint to the front door, flinging it open so I can run out into the street and wave down the ambulance.

Even that seems to take forever. The paramedics have questions.

I just want them to rush inside and see for themselves, but I answer as best as I can as they gather up equipment. I follow them into the house .

They kneel to poke and prod at my husband.

“Can you hear me, sir? We need you to respond.”

“Jace!” I cry out.

He mumbles incoherently.

They stick something into his mouth. Jace coughs before trying to swat away one of the paramedics.

“Reflexes present,” one man says.

“GSC nine,” the other replies.

They place an oxygen mask over his mouth, attach something to his finger, insert an IV…

The blur of activity is a nightmare on fast-forward.

I feel powerless and horrified as Jace is wired up like some sort of science experiment, but at this point, I don’t care what they do as long as it saves him, because I can’t…

I won’t! A world without him isn’t worth living in.

Rattling snaps me back to the present. I step aside to make room for the gurney, which I follow outside while wishing I could hold his hand, but I don’t want to risk getting in the way. Jace surviving is all that matters.

“Can I go with you?” I ask after he’s loaded into the ambulance.

The paramedic looks me over. “You’ve gotta stay calm.”

“I will!” I promise.

He nods. “Get buckled up. Don’t touch anything. If we need to work, give us plenty of room.”

I hastily slide onto a bench inside the ambulance so we can be on our way. I’m crammed into the corner, making myself as small as possible. I even hold my tongue until the paramedic in back with me doesn’t seem preoccupied.

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” I squeak.

The man glances at me and shrugs, his attention returning to Jace, who looks pale and weak beneath an eerie green light. I’ve given up on getting an answer when I hear the paramedic quietly say, “Probably an aneurysm.”

A dozen more questions spring to mind. Only one of them matters.

“Will he be okay?”

“We’ll do our best,” the man replies.

I leave him to his work. I don’t want to be a distraction. I need Jace to bounce back from this. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my entire life.

The trip to the hospital is mercifully short. I rush alongside the gurney as it’s wheeled into the emergency room. A nurse steps in front of my path and places a gentle hand on my shoulder to stop me. “This way please,” she says. “I need your help to get him registered.”

I watch as Jace is wheeled down a hallway, separating us, my throat constricting as I wonder if I'll ever see him again.