Page 149 of When Ben Loved Jace

My hands are trembling as I unlock the front door of our house. Jace hasn’t replied to any of my texts. I’m almost starting to wish he was still in the hospital. At least there I knew he was safe. My speech pathology office is in the same building. Now every hour spent at work feels like a risk. I’d take more time off, if we could afford it, because I don’t like having to leave him here alone. Even on a good day, when we remain in frequent contact, I often return home wondering if I’ll find him sprawled out unconscious on the floor.

The living room is dark when I enter, the curtains pulled shut. I can see Jace slumped over on the couch in an uncomfortable position. I hold my breath while searching for signs of his. Jace’s chest rises and falls. The tension drains from me.

“Baby?” I whisper. “Time to wake up.”

“Huh?”

Jace goes rigid. Then he winces and works his neck back and forth, like it’s sore. “Must have drifted off,” he murmurs.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“Do you have a headache?”

“No. I’m fine.”

My gaze darts down to Samson, who is sprawled across his lap. “Some nurse you turned out to be! Next time make sure he lies down first."

The cat stretches and yawns before glancing at me with sudden interest.

“Have you fed him recently?” I ask.

Jace is quiet. Which usually means he isn’t sure. The memory issues haven’t gone away completely.

“I’ll get dinner ready for all of us,” I say. “Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Jace replies. “Thanks.”

“There’s still a little sunlight left,” I say, pulling one of the curtains aside to let in orange light. Samson hops down to sit in the warm rectangle this creates on the floor. “Is that all right?”

“Sure. Do you need any help?”

“No. I’m making grilled cheese. It won’t take long.”

Jace reaches for a book.

I go into the kitchen and check his pill organizer, pleased when I see that he remembered to take his medicine. I also find Jace’s phone. The battery is dead. He’s terrible about keeping it charged these days. Mystery solved. After I plug it in, I take out bread and butter, relief finally setting in. Work is done for the day. Everything is fine. I’m happy. Enough that I begin singing a song from one of Brian’s musicals. I never got to perform it publicly, since it was written for my costar, but it’s a jaunty little tune about being in love.

“Who’s ever seen a face so fine?—divine!—I’ve gotta make that angel mine. A candy heart that’s sugar sweet—how neat!—its dulcet rhythm always moves my feet. And did I mention the impressive mind?—refined!—schooled in reason but also—"

“For fuck’s sake, would you shut the hell up?”

I spin around in shock. Jace is standing in the doorway, teeth bared, his chest heaving.

“I was trying to take a nap!” he snarls.

“I just woke you up! I thought you were reading!”

“Huh?” Jace’s forehead creases. “Right. I stretched out on the couch and must have—” Guilt drags his features down. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine.”

“No it isn’t!” He slumps into a chair at the table. “I’m so tired, Ben. I feel like I’m going crazy. All I do is sleep, and when I’m awake… I yelled at Adrien the other day. Did I tell you that?”

“No,” I say, sitting across from him. “What happened?”

“He said I don’t get out enough, and that I’m turning into Miss Havisham fromGreat Expectations.”