The room falls silent, nothing but the sound of the air circulating and Dolly’s soft snores as she drifts asleep.
My eyes move to Jones, finding his already on mine. “What does she mean by that?” I ask softly.
“I wanted to help,” he replies. I can tell that was difficult for him to admit. But something tells me Jones didn’t just help Dolly.
“You bought her a new medical bed?” I ask, and he nods slowly before casting his eyes downward. I continue, “And the other patients? Did you buy them one, too, Jones?” My voice is soft, melting in awe at the magnitude of his care.
Another nod.
Fuck me sideways. If compassion and humility made a baby, it’d be Jones Archer. Tears fill my eyes; the thoughtfulness he has for those he loves is something extraordinary.
“Kind isn’t a significant enough word to describe you, Captain. You deserve a title valued in gold,” I say, walking to stand in front of him, careful not to wake Dolly up. “That must have cost you a pretty penny. But to do that for your mother and all the other patients at Paloma…just wow. You’re an incredible human being, Jones.” My hand reaches for his, and I run my thumb along the roughness of his palm.
He looks up at me with eyes full of compassion. Eyes that appreciate even the small things in life. “It was nothing. I just wanted her to have the very best.”
“And she does. She has you.”
There’s no one better than you.
Jones doesn’t respond, but I feel the gratitude he has for my words. The words that could never be more true. My only hope is that he never loses sight of them. When he stands and pulls me into a hug, the breath in his chest exhales against mine.
I’ll never stop reminding him how fortunate she is to have him if it gives him even a fraction of the reassurance he needs.
There’s a feeling of peace that settles between us—an understanding.
This is Jones’ reality…it’s also all he has.
We’re more similar than I think either of us realized, and that’s an intimidating thought. To be aligned with someone in a way that allows you to understand the deepest parts of them.
I hope Jones sees me as someone he can find rest in, too.
His arms hold me tight, and I rest my head on his chest.
“She’s a beautiful person. A spitfire, too.”
“She is,” he exhales. “I wish you had the chance to know her before.”
“I’m sure I’d love her just the same,” I say. “I can see how much she loves you.”
“She’s all I’ve got.” His voice quakes.
Jones always holds his composure—solid as stone. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him allow emotions to overload him, but right now, the shallow jolt in his chest feels like bottled pain breaking free.
This sweet man has been carrying so much on his own. For years, without someone to hold him when he needs just a second to not be okay.
To unravel without judgment.
To surrender it all and not hear a damn word about it.
I let my comfort surround him. “Shhh. You’re not alone anymore.” I run my hands through his hair and massage his scalp. I’ll stay like this for however long he needs.
He’s quiet and still, but his soft sniffling tells me he’s weeping, and it’s about time he gets the comfort he deserves. “I’m here, okay?” I whisper into his hair, a rush of emotions washing over me. “She knows how much you love her. I believe that with everything in me. Hold on to that.”
“Fuck,” Jones stammers, swallowing back the hurt. “Thank you, Capri. Thank you.” He kisses me chastely, like he can’t quite articulate his feelings with anything other than kisses.
I’m honored to be in the pocket of his tangible love. “Always.”
I want to wrap him in my care and never let him go. How could I let a man as precious as this go? Tell him we can only be friends?