Left at City Hall, So I Called In His Life Debt novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Still Proceeding
Brett leaves Jillian alone at the City Hall registry for Kelsey's sprained ankle, and Jillian texts the man who owes her a life debt: marry me today. He arrives and tells her to sign.
The bench at the City Hall registry was oak, and it was cold through my dress.
I looked at the space beside me, where Brett had been sitting two minutes ago.
Then his phone rang, and he stood up before the second ring.
"Jillian, I'm so sorry." He squeezed my hand. "It's Kelsey. I'll make it up to you, I swear. I'll reschedule the certificate."
He kissed my knuckles and did not wait for me to answer.
I watched him go through the double doors, past six couples holding hands and grinning at each other.
His silver coupe was parked at the curb.
I could see it through the glass, one headlight a shade yellower than the other.
He had said he'd hit a deer three years ago and never matched the bulb.
The coupe pulled away.
My phone buzzed in my lap.
*Kelsey fell down the stairs at her apartment. Her ankle is badly sprained, maybe broken. I have to stay with her at the hospital. Let's push the wedding ceremony tomorrow back a bit.*
I read it once.
I had worked emergency nights for five years, and I knew what a broken ankle looked like on a text.
It looked like someone who wanted company.
I thought about how many times this had happened.
Our first anniversary dinner, cut short.
My birthday, ended at the dessert course.
The trip to the coast, where he spent two days on the phone in the hallway.
Every time, Kelsey needed him, and every time I said it was fine.
I waited for the old feeling to come, the hot, sick panic that used to make me call him and beg.
It did not come.
There was only a flat, quiet space in my chest where it used to live.
"Miss?" said the clerk behind the glass. She had kind eyes and a careful voice. "Are we still proceeding with the paperwork?"
I looked at her.
I looked at the phone.
I did not open Brett's chat.
I scrolled down instead to a name I had not touched in three years.
Jonas Arceneaux.
I had pulled him out of a burning car on Route 9 at two in the morning, and I had kept his heart going with my hands until the ambulance came.
I left before he woke up, because my shift was starting and I did not know who he was.
Three days later a courier brought a card to my unit.
It had one phone number on it and one sentence.
*Whatever you ask, whenever you ask, it's yours.*
I found out later who he was.
His name was on the biggest tower in the city.
"Yes," I told the clerk. My voice came out steady. "We're still proceeding."
My thumbs were quick.
*You said I could ask for anything. If you haven't forgotten, come to City Hall. Marry me today.*
I pressed send and leaned back against the bench.
For four years I had made room for Brett.
Kelsey's father had died shielding his parents in a car crash, so Brett treated her as something breakable.
My first big paycheck bought him a vintage watch, and he put it on her wrist because she needed something valuable to feel safe.
Six months ago he left me on a ridge in the first drops of a storm, because she called, crying.
"Don't overthink it, Jillian," he always said.
My phone lit up.
It was Brett, and I almost laughed.
*Don't be dramatic. Wait there and I'll be back by two. We'll just do it later.*
He thought I would wait.
I had always waited.
I looked at the empty bench and made my decision.
I did not wait.
I deleted the thread and put the phone face down on my knee.
Then I laid Brett's folder of forms on the bench where his seat had been, and squared its edges.
It was the only thing he had left behind.
A woman in the next couple stared at me.
I stared back until she looked away.
"Second window, then," the clerk said quietly. "If your guest comes, you'll need two witnesses and a photo ID."
"He'll come," I said.
I did not know why I was so sure.
A man's voice in the lobby made the clerk look up.
Two security men in dark suits had come in through the double doors, and one of them was holding a man's coat.
Behind them walked a tall man with gray at his temples, and a scar along his left forearm where his sleeve was pushed back.
He found me at once among the couples.
He crossed the floor without hurrying and stopped in front of the bench.
"Jillian Ellison," Jonas Arceneaux said. "I got your message."
He held out a pen.
"Sign first," he said. "Questions after."
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