Chapter 69 APRIL 22ND, 2005
My eyes fluttered open, only to be met with the harsh brightness of the room. The light pierced through me, forcing me to shut them again almost immediately.
My head throbbed with a pain I couldn’t even define. It wasn’t just a headache—it was deeper, heavier, like something pounding from the inside out. My throat was so dry it burned when I swallowed. Even breathing felt uncomfortable.
I tried to process where I was. Tried to understand my surroundings. But my thoughts felt slow… foggy… like they were trapped beneath layers of exhaustion.
It was only then that I felt it.
Someone behind me.
A presence.
A hand wrapped securely around my waist, and my back pressed against a rigid, warm chest.
Carefully—though every movement felt like a drum beating violently inside my skull—I turned my head.
And there he was.
Jaxon.
Fast asleep.
His hair was roughed up, like he had been dragging his fingers through it over and over again. His face, usually tense and alert, was relaxed now. Peaceful. Vulnerable.
I stared at him longer than I intended to.
That was when my eyes drifted upward and caught sight of the now-empty IV bag hanging from a plastic hanger hooked onto the headboard. The thin line trailed down to my hand.
It was only then I noticed the catheter taped to my skin.
Memory flickered.
I remembered being in the car with Jaxon.
I remembered feeling unbearably cold.
But after that…
Nothing.
Slowly, I pulled the thick duvet away from my body—and froze.
I was half-naked.
And Jaxon was bare-chested.
My heart skipped violently.
Why am I half-naked in Jaxon’s arms?
But even as the question formed in my mind, I already knew the answer.
Heat.
He was keeping me warm.
Swallowing hard, I reached for Jaxon’s hand still resting possessively around my waist. Gently—carefully—I tried to lift it away, wincing at how weak my fingers felt.
Even that simple movement drained me.
I struggled to cover myself, pulling the duvet up as much as I could, trying to slide off the bed without waking him.
But his weight pinned part of the duvet down, and no matter how hard I tugged, it wouldn’t budge.
My arms trembled from the effort.
Every muscle felt tight. Fragile. Used.
Frustration burned behind my eyes.
Fine.
I would go without the duvet. I could find something to wear in his wardrobe.
At least that was the plan.
Except… I couldn’t even sit up properly.
It felt like every ounce of energy had been drained from my body. Like I had been emptied out and left hollow.
Still, I forced myself upright.
The moment I did, a loud ringing exploded in my ears.
My vision blurred.
My head throbbed even harder, trembling with the effort of simply holding itself up.
It was too much.
My head felt unbearably heavy, like it couldn’t support itself. A broken cry slipped past my lips before I could stop it.
I pulled my legs to my chest, curling into myself, trying to cover my exposed body with my arms.
The room began to spin.
Dizziness washed over me in violent waves.
I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, waiting—hoping—for the pain to fade.
Seconds felt like minutes.
Minutes felt endless.
Eventually, the ringing subsided.
I opened my eyes and was met with Jaxon’s blue ones.
He was awake.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice hoarse and soft, filled with nothing but concern.
The way he looked at me made something twist inside my chest. My eyes searched his for a brief moment before I quickly looked away, suddenly feeling far too exposed… far too naked.
I immediately grabbed the edge of the duvet and pulled it tighter around myself.
“Oh… right,” he murmured, as if just realizing.
He stood and walked toward the wardrobe, returning seconds later with a neatly folded hoodie.
“Here,” he said, reaching out to hand it to me.
But my hands were trembling so badly that I couldn’t even hold onto it. The hoodie slipped from my weak fingers and fell to the floor.
Humiliation washed over me.
I had never felt this vulnerable before.
Without saying a word, he bent down, picked it up, and came to sit beside me. I could feel his eyes on me—steady, observant—but I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze.
“Pardon me,” he said gently.
Before I could respond, he carefully pulled the hoodie over my head, guiding my arms through the sleeves. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though I were something fragile that might break under careless hands.
When he reached to free my hair trapped inside the fabric, his fingers brushing lightly against my neck, I couldn’t help but hold my breath.
His face was so close to mine.
Too close.
Close enough for me to feel his warmth.
Once he was done, he lifted his hand and placed it against my forehead.
I shivered at his touch.
“Thank goodness,” he breathed. “The fever’s gone down.”
Relief softened his features as his eyes settled on mine.
There was something thick between us. Something unspoken. Tense. Fragile.
And I couldn’t quite name it.
But for the first time in five years—since the morning I woke up in his bed and heard him call our night together a mistake—I wasn’t angry.
I wasn’t burning with resentment.
I looked at him differently.
I saw him differently.
Instead of the asshole who left a woman alone in a hotel room and disappeared without looking back… I saw the man I had met that night.
The stranger who took one look at me and understood me without asking questions.
“Oh—water. You must be thirsty,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking whatever fragile spell had fallen between us.
He reached for a glass and handed it to me.
I wrapped my fingers around it, but my hands were still unsteady. The glass shook slightly until Jaxon’s larger hands came up to steady mine, enclosing them gently as he guided the rim to my lips.
I took a sip.
And immediately wanted more.
The cool water soothed my burning throat, sliding down like relief itself. I drank the entire glass in one gulp, barely stopping to breathe.
By the time I finished, my throat no longer felt like it was on fire. I could feel my body slowly regaining a new kind of energy. Not strength exactly… but something close to it. “Can I have more?” I asked, finally finding my voice. It still sounded fragile. Thin. But it was mine.
Jaxon’s POV
Hearing her voice did something to me.
Even though it was tired and barely above a whisper, it was everything.
I quickly refilled the glass from the jug Troy had prepared earlier and handed it to her. She drank that one too—slower this time, but just as desperate.
When she finally lowered the glass, she looked… satisfied.
“Do you want more?” I asked.
She shook her head.
My eyes never left hers.
I’m surprised she isn’t throwing a fit about the position she found us in when she woke up.
She was still weak. I could see it in the way her shoulders slumped slightly, in the way she conserved every small movement.
She needed food.
Where the hell is Troy?
Right on cue, a soft knock sounded at the door before Troy stepped inside.
He carried a tray, steam rising from the bowl and curling into the air.
“The doctor said nothing heavy,” Troy said. “Just tomato soup and some dry toast.”
He handed the tray to me.
I took it, the warmth of the bowl seeping into my palms. Nancy’s eyes followed it, still slightly glassy from the fever but more alert than before.
“Thank you, Troy,” she said softly, offering him a small smile.
“My pleasure. It’s good to see you not cold and shaking,” Troy replied, returning her smile before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
I placed the tray carefully in front of her.
She reached for the spoon.
I watched as her fingers wrapped around it, her jaw tightening with determination. She dipped it into the soup, lifting a spoonful—
But she didn’t even make it halfway to her mouth before her hand trembled violently and the soup spilled right back into the bowl.
“God damn it,” she cursed under her breath, frustration cracking through her voice as she dropped the spoon.
That sound—the frustration in her tone—cut deeper than I expected.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it,” I murmured.
I didn’t give her a chance to argue.
I picked up the spoon, dipped it into the red broth, and brought it to her lips.
“Just a sip,” I said gently. “You need your strength back.”
She hesitated for a moment, pride flickering in her eyes.
Then she leaned forward and took the first spoonful.
Relief washed over me.
She didn’t protest. Didn’t argue. Didn’t push me away.
She just ate.
Quietly.
Spoon after spoon.
Until the bowl was empty.
I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been until that moment.
“Thank you, Jaxon… for taking care of me,” she said.
Her voice sounded stronger now. More like her.
Her eyes held mine, and something shifted inside my chest.
“It’s the least I could do,” I replied quietly. “It was my fault. I never should’ve left you alone last night.”
Guilt settled heavily in my gut.
“I thought the least that could happen was Gary walking out of that police station without charges while the other four guys took the fall,” I continued, setting the tray aside.
“I thought that was the only way to get you to listen to me. These men aren’t people who can be defeated by the law.”
My jaw tightened.
“They can kill anyone who becomes a threat to them, Nancy. And that includes you.”
I needed her to understand.
This wasn’t just about pride. Or justice.
It was survival.
But instead of arguing, she gave a faint smile.
Then she pulled her legs closer to her chest, hugging them tightly, as if bracing herself.
“You once asked me why I was after Ravyn Vale,” she said slowly.
Her eyes held something I couldn’t quite decipher.
Pain.
Memory.
“That’s because when I was nine years old, I was abducted by Ravyn Vale… alongside a boy I met on the streets of Brentmere.”
My entire body went rigid.
She was abducted?
By Ravyn Vale?
“It was April 22nd, 2005,” she continued, her gaze never leaving mine. “A day I will never forget. It was my first trip… and my first and last time in Brookleigh .”
The date echoed violently in my head.
April 22nd, 2005.
My eyes widened in utter shock.
Did she just say April 22nd… 2005?