"Tell me not that I am too late... that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again, with a heart even more than your own, when you almost broke it..."

—Jane Austen

A few days after my meet up in the park with Laina, I went back into work at the Tucson Telegram office, and something felt off from the moment I stepped inside. Eric was unfortunately at his desk next to me, and aside from an awkward, forced greeting, we didn't say another word to each other all morning. Somehow, the minutes ticked by regardless, and by the time noon rolled around, I was hungry enough to eat cardboard. But before I left for lunch, I wanted to finish just a few more lines of text on my assignment.

Just as I was wrapping it up and hitting save on my computer, Tanya strolled out of her office and into the newsroom, wearing a too-short-for-work beige dress and white pumps. Even if I hadn't seen her approaching, I would have still known she was coming over to my desk. In her hand, something was folded.

"Ms. Fray." Tanya dropped a tabloid on my desk that had been printed the day before. "Hey, didn't you like that band?"

A sick smile spread across her pink painted lips, as Eric furtively peeked at the article, then covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. My heart sounded like a locomotive in my ears. My mind spun in a merry-go-round that only picked up speed, making me nearly dizzy enough to faint.

Fresh off a worldwide tour, Julian Miles, of Ascend the Stars fame, has been hospitalized in critical condition in London. Management was unavailable for comment. No further details are available at this time.

Without so much as thinking about it twice, I slapped Eric clean across the face with all the strength that I could muster. My frantic distress proved to be powerful enough for me to knock Eric right off his chair, to the floor below.

"You think this is fucking funny?!" I screamed in an uncontrollable panic.

Eric slowly sat up, rubbing the red mark I had left on his cheek, while a crowd of other coworkers stole stealthy glances from their stations. Most likely, I was the last one that any of them would have ever expected to see perform such an act.

"Ms. Fray!" Tanya raised her voice in shock and reprimand. She glowered at me with her arms folded. "I will not tolerate physical acts of violence in my newsroom! You are fired!"

"You can't fire me, bitch, because I quit!" I threw the tabloid at her chest and grabbed my purse from the desk. "How's that for ethics?"

As fast as I could, I ran to the elevators. The stupid look on Tanya's face, with her mouth agape, would have been entirely amusing to me if I weren't in such a state of complete, frenzied horror. I slammed the down arrow button, waiting impatiently for the doors to ding open. When five more seconds passed and the elevators still hadn't arrived, I found the emergency staircase and took two steps at a time.

My phone was in my hand as I got into my car and squealed out of the parking lot, leaving light tire marks in my wake.

I called Arrows but his phone was either off or his battery was dead—it went directly to voicemail. Hastily, I hung up and called Mason three times. No answer. He was probably with Julian, I thought.

"COME ON! Somebody pick up!" A scream of anguished frustration ripped through my body.

Then I thought to call Tommy.

"Hello?" He picked up right away, which both abated and perturbed me.

"Tommy. It's Brooke." I gasped for air. "How is he? Is Julian okay? Please tell me he's okay."

"He's... he's okay." Tommy cleared his throat. "He's stable. They're going to move him out of the casualty department soon. How did you find out?"

"I saw it—well, I saw it at work," I said, unsure if I should have mentioned the tabloid.

"Shit," Tommy said, figuring it out on his own.

"When did this happen?" My lips were forming the questions before my mind could even register them, as if they were two separately functioning parts, not at all correlated.

"A few days ago," Tommy explained quietly. "I rang you when it happened, more than once actually, but you didn't answer. I didn't want to leave a message like that on your voicemail... I was waiting to hear from you."

The missed calls at the park. Of course.

"What happened to him?" I could feel the heavy, salty tears streaming down my hot cheeks and I didn't bother to wipe them away. More would've just replaced them when I did. "Is he going to be okay?"

"I think so. Well, I hope so." Tommy sounded tired. Tired and defeated. "For now, he's fine."

"Which hospital is he in?" I needed Julian to just hold on, and I would've been there as fast as humanly possible. Everything inside me ignited in desperation, and I wanted nothing more than to be able to snap my fingers and appear beside his hospital bed. Why did he have to be so far away from me?

"St. Shepherd's," Tommy said without missing a beat. "Why?"

"I'm going to the airport right now. I'm going as fast as I can." I was weaving in and out of lunch hour traffic, speeding well over the limit.

"Right now? You're coming to London?" he asked as if he were surprised, then let out a sigh of relief.

"Yes. Will you please tell me what happened to him? What's wrong with Julian?" My Julian, my mind silently screamed.

"I'll explain when you get here, okay?" Tommy said.

"May I talk to him?" My voice cracked at the end, and someone was honking at me for cutting him off. "I need to hear his voice."

"He's asleep, Brooke. I think he needs to rest right now," Tommy said the words softly, so they wouldn't hurt as much. "Give me a ring when you land, and I will come and collect you."

"Okay. Please take care of him, Tommy," I begged through choked sobs.

"He's in good hands now," he said before we hung up.

As soon as I parked my car in the airport pay-by-the-day lot, I ran inside, as fast as my legs would carry me, to the first airline counter I could find. They were able to put me on standby for a couple thousand dollars, so that was what I chose to do. At the very latest, I would fly out the next morning, but I could've been on a red-eye flight as early as that evening.

I had nothing with me except the clothes on my back and my purse—which contained my wallet, notebook, pen, phone, and charger. I mentally congratulated myself for never removing my passport from my oversized, zippered wallet. If I had, I wasn't sure that I could've made the extra stop at my apartment before the airport, without losing my mind even more in the process.

Hours passed, but it felt like weeks as I sat there, tapping my feet while fidgeting, unable to talk to Julian, and not knowing what had happened to him. So many possibilities crossed my morbid mind.

Car accident.

Seizure.

Concussion from a fall.

More than anything, I needed my name to be called, so that I could've been one step closer to seeing him, and knowing that he would be alright. I was second on the standby list, and with any luck at all, I'd make the next flight out. My heart kept thrumming out of rhythm, no matter how I tried to slow its pace. Outside, in Tucson, it was completely dark. It was getting later and later, but I'd have been so happy to make the red-eye.

If Julian didn't want me to stay in London once I got there, I would regretfully fly back to Tucson. Before I did that, though, I had to know. It wasn't an option anymore to take peoples' words for it. I needed to see him for myself, to feel any repose. Just as Julian used to say, it was better to be shown than told. Words wouldn't cut it this time around.

I quit my job and I'm flying to London. I'll explain later. I texted Laina the bombshell information as I waited and waited, with each beeping noise over the airport intercom system causing my hammering heart to stop and restart again.

Nervously, I twirled my arrow necklace between my fingers, as I squirmed in the uncomfortable chair, at the twelfth gate. Then, finally, I heard my name being called over the loud speaker at the terminal gate.

I would make it to London in a matter of half a day.

...

The economy cabin seat was cramped, stained, and incommodious—nothing at all like the luxury seats that Julian had secured for me on my last trip to London. It was ever so fitting, though, to be made all the more uncomfortable on the most uncomfortably worrisome trip of my life. None of that mattered, however, because within thirteen hours, I knew I'd be arriving at Heathrow.

I never prayed, but on that day, I prayed for Julian to hold on tight, and for eastward facing winds to helpfully push the aircraft along to Heathrow.

Other passengers shamelessly stared at me as I silently cried for half of the flight there, while writing in my notebook. It didn't bother me. In fact, I felt sorry for them. None of them would ever know the amazing Julian Miles as well as I did, and for that, I pitied them. He was worth every single tear shed, and many more that were sure to follow.

Decidedly, I had been so selfish. All this time, I had been morose over the absence of Julian from my life, not knowing the omnipotent power of the desolation that would come from Julian not being alive at all.

Although I had always thought my luck to be awful, I had to consider the fact that I was incredibly fortunate—the absolute luckiest woman in the world—to have had any time with him at all.

I had gotten a taste of the ultimate dejection—the threat of Julian being around no longer. And all at once, I felt that I could learn to handle never seeing him again, so long as he was alive and healthy. Nothing else mattered in the entire world. I would have done anything, absolutely anything, to ensure his safety and well-being.

When we were finally approaching England, after the longest thirteen hours of my entire life, I opened my plastic window covering on the plane and stared out into the night sky. The practical part of my brain understood that I wouldn't be able to see Julian, or even the hospital he was in, from where I was. But I opened it because, suddenly, heights didn't scare me like they used to before. That fear had been replaced by something far more powerful.

"Welcome to London Heathrow Airport. The local time is 9:18 p.m. and the local temperature is thirteen degrees Centigrade."

My phone had managed to hold enough battery life throughout the flight for me to try calling Tommy, who didn't pick up right away. Instead of waiting for his call back, I hailed a taxi right outside of the airport.

"St. Shepherd's Hospital, please." I buckled into the backseat as I rushed the words through my parted lips. "As fast as you safely can."

"Yes, miss," the driver said, with an accent that let me know I was close to my Julian. "I do hope all is well."

"Thank you," I said, as I texted Laina about my safe arrival. "I hope so, too."

The navigation system in the cab showed a thirty-two minute ride, but due to some Friday night traffic, it took closer to forty-five minutes to arrive. Although I would have never thought it possible, those forty-five minutes felt as long as, if not longer than, the thirteen hour flight. The closer I got to Julian, the more strained my patience grew. Each minute was akin to being in limbo.

When we were just five kilometers away from St. Shepherd's, which I worked out to be about three miles in my head, Tommy started calling me.

"Hello?" I picked up right away.

"Hey, Brooke. Have you landed already?" Tommy asked with hope in his voice.

"Yes." My stomach was in knots. "I'm actually in a taxi, very close to the hospital right now."

"You're here?" He sounded confused. "I was going to come pick you up."

"I know, it's okay," I assured him. "I wanted to get here as soon as I could."

"Okay, Brooke. I will be waiting at the main entrance to meet you. You'll see a sign that says A and E, for Accident and Emergency." Something changed in his tone that I didn't like at all. This Tommy was a far cry from the jokester I had known before. "I just want you to be prepared for what you see when you get here, okay?"

"I'll... try." Flashes of blood and gore flooded my mind. I couldn't help the tears from flowing freely again. A silent cascade of fear.

"See you in a minute," Tommy said as he hung up.

When the huge hospital came into focus, my nerves burned me from within.

"Where shall I drop you off, miss?" the driver asked politely.

"The Accident and Emergency entrance, please." I tried to hide the fact that I was crying, but it rang clear in my voice when I finally spoke. Thankfully, the driver made no comment about it, and I paid him promptly with a generous tip.

I stepped out.

I was finally there, at the very building where my Julian was, and he needed me now more than ever before.

So, why did my feet suddenly slow down?

The cab pulled away but I stayed standing there, in the same spot, gazing at the entryway, and wondering what I would find when I walked inside. It was cold and raining, so my hair was getting soaked, but that was the least of my worries.

Why did Tommy say that I needed to be prepared? How bad could it have been? I wanted to know, and didn't want to know, all at once.

As I forced my feet to trudge through the puddles of rain, the automatic glass doors opened. Directly in front of the entrance was Tommy, standing there waiting for me.

I ran into Tommy's opened arms and sobbed as he held me tightly, helping me to garner the strength for what I was about to find. Julian would've needed me to be strong. I had to let all of my weakness and worry pour out through my eyes, so that by the time I saw my Julian, he could have fed off my exuded strength and gotten better. I would be that supply of hope for him, I silently promised myself and him.

"It's so good to see you again, Brooke." Tommy continued to hug me. "You don't know how relieved I am that you're here. He needs you."

"Does he know I'm here?" My voice cracked.

"No, I haven't told him," Tommy said softly. "He's sleeping again."

"Bring me to him." I wiped my eyes forcefully and sniffled, then cleared my groggy throat. "I want to see him."

"Okay, come on, this way." Tommy grabbed my hand and led the way.

"What happened to him?" I asked as we navigated the bright, white halls.

"Maybe just see him first," Tommy suggested, and I didn't have it in me to argue or beg. I just needed to see Jules. "I'm so sorry. I should have told you long ago. Maybe if I had said something sooner..."

We were winding around a few corners. Soft murmurs bounced around the hospital halls, but I couldn't focus on any words. My feet felt heavier with each step taken, so I felt some relief when Tommy began to slow his pace.

"Here we are." Tommy stopped abruptly in front of an open door. From the inside, I could hear the heart monitor machine beeping. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'm ever going to be," I said.

Tommy took the first steps inside. I followed behind him.

My heart swelled at the same time that my knees nearly gave out. The light was off in the room, but the open door cast in enough brightness from the hallway to see the most heart-wrenching sight of my life.

I barely recognized my Julian in the hospital bed.

His golden brown hair was unkempt and nearly down to his shoulders. Even with his beautiful, russet brown eyes closed, I could see the dark bags beneath them. His gaunt face was turned to the side as he slept, and I noticed every red scab on his cheeks and nose. Smaller red marks were dotted all along his exposed arms, too.

Extra blankets were strewn over the bottom half of his body, but I could still see that Julian was so thin. All of his healthy muscle mass was gone and before me lay a frail, fragile looking boy.

A broken man.

An IV drip delivered hydration to his dry, ashen skin. Though I had planned—and tried my hardest—to be strong for Julian, the mere sight of him made me whimper.

"What is it, Tommy?" I whispered, so that I wouldn't wake my Julian. Broken, but still beautiful. "What's wrong with him?"

"Kidney failure." Tommy held my back as he said it.

"From what?" I knew there was more. The marks on his arms... the scabs on his face.

"I... um..." Tommy shifted his weight.

"Please," I said. "From what?"

"Heroin," he whispered into my ear.

I clasped my hand to my mouth, to stifle a waiting sob. As hard as I could, I blinked back the barrage of tears. I didn't know how I even had any more left within my body to shed.

"Is he going to be okay?" I already knew the answer, but I hoped that Tommy would lie to me anyway.

"They're trying really hard, Brooke." Tommy rubbed my back as he whispered. "Jules has to try, too."

Tommy let his hand fall from my back as I stepped forward languidly. As noiselessly as I could, I approached the side of Julian's bed.

Even in his sleep, Julian looked pained. I wanted to use my thumb to smooth the crease between his brows. Instead, I ran my fingers ever so softly through his tangled hair and bent down to kiss his forehead. When I did, Julian slowly opened his eyes. The heart rate monitor picked up, beeping much faster, and his weary eyes widened as he took in the sight of me.

"Brooke?" Julian's raspy voice was barely above a whisper.

"It's me." I placed my hand on his hollow cheek, and he lifted his rough hand to cover mine.

"Am I dreaming?" he groaned.

"No." I blinked hard, and leaned down to kiss his forehead again, pushing his messy hair back out of his face. His heart rate sped up again.

"You're really here." His eyes were glossy, tired, and yellow with illness, but somewhere deep inside them, I saw the spark of hope. "You found me."

"I found you." I leaned down to hug Julian as gently as I could, and he pulled me flush to his thin chest with a desperation that left me both breathless and relieved. As different as he looked, I was calmed by the spicy, leathery, cedar scent of his skin, assuring me that it was none other than the irrefutable love of my life. "I'd never stop looking for you, Jules."

"Please don't ever leave me again." He spoke the sweetest words that I never deserved to hear, as a single tear ran down his concave cheek.

"I'm never, ever leaving you again," I promised, and meant it with every fiber of my being. As I spoke the words, Julian moaned in sheer and absolute relief with his thin arms wrapped around me.

I watched carefully as his shoulders were freed of the weighty burdens they carried, slouching back into their normal place.

Even as broken as we were, Julian and I were still the two strongest magnets in the world. No force, natural or unnatural, could have ever been great enough to slip between us. Not with both of us holding on as we were. And I'd never let go again.

The boy who had once dreamt of quelling flames to save lives had ultimately set fire to himself. The irony of that fact was not lost on me. But, if I were truly his anchor—as exemplified by the black, inky permanence etched onto his fragile ribs—I needed to bring with me, my own weight in water, to put out the near-fatal blaze.