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Back Until I Find You Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. EPILOGUE
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  57. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  58. Also by Rea Frey
  59. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  60. Newsletter Sign-up

I calculate the hours missing: fourteen. Too long. At the door, I unlock it and almost stumble into the entryway.

“Rebecca.” Jake is instantly beside me.

I clutch his jacket as though I’m drowning. “I need my baby,” I cry. “Please, I need him. I need him.” My pleas grow louder. As my voice strengthens, the baby cries. I can’t be in this house. I can’t stay here, staring down at an empty crib. I press to standing, but my throat constricts. “I can’t breathe,” I whisper. Suddenly, I’m back in the park, feeling like I’m going to die. “Jake…” I pitch forward and fall to my hands and knees. The baby jostles against my chest and cries harder. I roll to my back. I’m dizzy. I’m going to faint.

“Jesus Christ, Rebecca. Here, sit up.” Jake gathers me in his arms, but I refuse to sit. I don’t want to sit. I don’t want to breathe. I don’t want to do anything without Jackson. “Rebecca!” He shakes my arms, unlatches the baby, and takes him somewhere else. His cries pierce my ears, and I lay back against the cold wood. My black world spins, slows, grows dreamy. But before I give in, I hear the groan of pipes upstairs, a shower running.

Then, Jake is back downstairs, and tosses me over his shoulder. I’m too weak to protest. He hikes the stairs, kicks open my bathroom door, and dunks me in the bathtub fully clothed, the icy needles instantly jolting me awake for the second time tonight. I scream, but he presses me down until I’m gasping and crying.

“Stay,” he orders. His hands restrain while I fight against him, my tiny fists banging his sturdy muscles. “Stop it. Just stop it.” His voice is gentle, though his meaning is firm.

And finally, too tired to do anything else, I give in and wrench his body against mine. He soaks his own jacket, his shirt, and his entire body, but he holds me there, not moving, until the water makes me numb, and I’m drained of tears.

19

BEC

Light cracks through the blinds and alerts me to morning. I shoot up in bed. I must have fallen asleep sometime early this morning. Oh God, the baby. I launch out of bed, rummage for my robe, and hurry down the hall to the nursery. I tiptoe just in case he’s still sleeping, but the crib is empty. Movement echoes from the kitchen.

“Jake?” I take the stairs and round the corner. “Where’s the baby?”

“Morning. It’s okay. He’s right here.”