Juliana lay perfectly still, the weight of Cole's arm a solid, grounding presence across her stomach. His body heat seeped through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Her mind was a chaotic whirlwind of impossible facts: she was dead, she was alive, her best friend had tried to kill her, and the husband she thought hated her was asleep in her bed, clinging to her like a lifeline.
Carefully, she turned her head to get a better look at him. The dark circles under his eyes were stark against his pale skin. The faint lines of strain around his mouth spoke of hours of unspeakable grief. This was the man she had seen shatter.
A wave of guilt, so powerful it was nauseating, washed over her. She had done this to him. Her foolishness, her blindness, had caused this pain.
Hesitantly, she lifted her hand, her fingers trembling. She wanted to smooth the worried frown from his brow, to offer some small comfort.
Just as her fingertips were about to brush against his skin, his eyes snapped open.
They were gray, sharp, and filled with a raw, disbelieving shock. For a moment, he just stared at her, as if she were a hallucination he was trying to will into existence.
"Jules?" His voice was a hoarse, broken rasp.
Caught, Juliana snatched her hand back, her heart hammering against her ribs.
He moved faster. He didn't pull away; he surged upright, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a crushing embrace. The force of it stole her breath, his arms like steel bands around her.
"You're warm," he murmured into the curve of her neck, his voice thick with a desperate, trembling relief. He buried his face against her skin, inhaling deeply, like a drowning man finding air.
Juliana's body was rigid with shock, but the scent of him-cedar, whiskey, and a deep, underlying grief-filled her senses. Her heart, which had been frozen with guilt, began to thaw. Awkwardly, she raised a hand and patted his back, a clumsy, uncertain gesture.
It was the first time she had ever touched him with anything resembling affection.
The small act seemed to jolt him. He pulled back slightly, his hands framing her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. His eyes searched hers, a complex storm of confusion, relief, and a dozen other emotions she couldn't name.
Within minutes, the house was in a quiet flurry of activity. The family doctor was summoned, his face a mask of professional disbelief as he examined her. He declared it a medical miracle, attributing her state to a minor concussion and extreme exhaustion.
Once the doctor left, Cole dismissed the hovering staff. The bedroom door clicked shut, leaving them alone in the sudden, heavy silence.
Juliana sat propped against the pillows, knowing she had to take control of the narrative. She looked at him, her expression carefully composed. "I... I don't remember much about the crash." It was the only plausible explanation for the woman she was about to become.
A shadow passed over Cole's face. His voice was low, gentle. "It's okay. You don't have to think about it. Just rest."
He left the room and returned moments later with a glass of water and a tray of toast. He sat on the edge of the bed and fed her himself, his large, capable hands surprisingly gentle. Juliana accepted his care without protest, each bite a fresh wave of remorse for how she had treated him.
This man deserved better. He deserved everything. And she would spend the rest of this new life making it up to him.
After she finished eating, she reached for her phone on the nightstand. The screen was still open to the last message she'd sent Aidan. Her stomach churned.
With Cole watching her, his expression unreadable, she opened her contacts. She found Aidan's name, listed under "My Love."
Cole's jaw tightened. A flicker of the old coldness returned to his eyes. He thought she was reaching out to him.
Juliana didn't explain. Her fingers moved deliberately. She deleted the nauseating pet name and typed in a new one: "Scumbag."
Then, without a moment's hesitation, she blocked his number and deleted the contact entirely.
She looked up at Cole, her eyes clear and steady.
The ice in his expression cracked, melting away into stunned disbelief.
As if on cue, her phone began to ring, vibrating against the bedspread.
The caller ID read "Bestie Paige."
A slow, cold smile touched Juliana's lips. She held Cole's gaze, a silent promise passing between them. Then she answered the call and pressed the speakerphone button.
"Jules, honey! Oh my god, I heard about the accident! Are you okay?" Paige's voice was a gush of frantic, fake concern. "Did you... get away?"
