Chapter 72 HATE WITHOUT GUILT
After Jaxon left, I managed to pull myself back into sleep, but it did nothing for the buzzing and trembling inside my head.
Mostly because my mind was everywhere.
My dreams were filled with Zoe’s face—vomiting blood, her skin pale and lifeless, the pipe still attached to her mouth in the hospital bed. The image replayed over and over again like a nightmare that refused to end.
I forced my eyes open and slowly pushed myself out of the bed, trying to ignore the pounding inside my skull.
But the moment my feet touched the floor, my legs went numb.
Including my feet.
For a second, I almost lost my balance as I forced myself upright.
The first few steps toward the bathroom were pure torture. My body protested with every movement, my muscles stiff and aching, but somehow I still managed to make it.
The terrible cold I had been feeling earlier was gone, but it had been replaced with a deep, exhausting body pain that settled into my bones.
As I stepped into the bathroom, my eyes immediately moved across the neatly arranged items.
A freshly folded towel.
A bottle of body wash.
Shampoo.
A bathrobe.
Everything had been carefully placed within reach, as if someone had deliberately prepared it for me.
And they were all brand new.
I hated it.
But at the same time…
I loved it.
That strange feeling of being taken care of by someone else.
It always overwhelmed me.
Because all my life, I had always been the one taking care of others.
Never the other way around.
Slowly, I made my way toward the bathtub, which had already been filled with water.
I stepped inside carefully.
The water was still quite hot, so I reached forward and adjusted the temperature before slowly sinking into it, letting the warmth wrap around my aching body.
A soft sigh escaped my lips.
For the first time since last night, my muscles began to relax.
Grabbing the bottle of shampoo that smelled faintly like marshmallow, I worked it gently through my hair, washing away the rainwater and the dirt that had clung to it.
Then I reached for the body wash and began scrubbing my skin, letting the thick foam run across my arms, shoulders, and legs until I finally started to feel clean again.
When I was done, I picked up the shower head and rinsed the remaining soap from my hair and body, watching as the water carried everything down the drain.
By the time I finished, my body felt lighter.
Not perfect.
But better.
I stepped out of the bathtub carefully and slipped into the bathrobe before wrapping the towel around my damp hair.
For a moment, I just stood there.
Breathing.
Trying to gather myself again.
But the moment I walked back into the bedroom, reality hit me.
I had nothing to wear.
All my clothes were inside the backpack Jaxon had taken from me, and I was almost certain everything inside it had been soaked by the rain.
Letting out a quiet sigh, I walked toward Jaxon’s wardrobe and pulled it open.
But there wasn’t much to choose from.
Just a few T-shirts, some joggers, and his work suits neatly hanging in place.
I pulled on one of the T-shirts, which swallowed almost half of me, before putting on the joggers that swallowed whatever was left. I looked like a child wearing an adult’s clothes.
At least I wasn’t naked.
Looking through the cabinet in the bathroom, I managed to find a hair dryer to dry up my hair, and I couldn’t have been more grateful.
Once I was done, I made my way outside to find Jaxon. If we were leaving this evening, then I needed my backpack so I could dry my clothes. I couldn’t possibly head to the airport looking like this.
But when I stepped into the living room, I found it empty.
Where did they go?
“Troy!” I called out.
Silence answered me.
“Jaxon, are you in here?”
Still nothing.
Just complete silence.
The rolling room-service table sitting close to the dining area caught my attention. I slowly walked toward it and noticed a small note attached to it.
Curious, I picked it up and read.
"Hi Nancy, if you're reading this then I probably stepped out. I ordered lunch for you and Jaxon, not knowing if I would be back before we left for the airport.
Please help me make sure he eats, even if it's just a spoonful of it. If he's not in the living room by the time you see this, then you should probably know he's resting in the study.
I will be back in a jiffy."
—Troy.
Dropping the note back onto the table, I lifted the cloche and revealed a plate of pan-seared salmon with mashed potatoes.
The aroma drifted upward immediately.
Warm.
Rich.
Tempting.
My stomach twisted slightly at the smell.
Closing the lid again, I took one last look at the note before turning away to find the study.
And Jaxon.
The only room left was down the same hallway as Jaxon’s bedroom.
Slowly, I made my way toward it, my footsteps quiet against the floor as uncertainty crept into my chest.
I wasn’t even sure if I should announce my presence before stepping inside.
I knocked softly on the door but got no response.
I knocked again.
And then a third time.
Still nothing.
“Jaxon?” I called quietly as I slowly pushed the door open.
The room was dark. The only light came from the small desk lamp glowing dimly beside the couch where Jaxon lay asleep.
I reached for the wall switch to turn on the main light, but stopped myself at the last second. I didn’t want to wake him.
He was probably exhausted because of me.
The thought alone made guilt twist painfully in my chest.
I quietly turned, ready to leave the room and let him rest.
But that was when I heard it.
A faint sound.
A cry.
Or maybe just a broken whisper.
At first I thought I had imagined it.
But then it came again.
This time louder.
More desperate.
The sound rooted me to the spot.
Instead of leaving, I quickly turned on the light. The sudden brightness flooded the room as I rushed toward him.
My heart dropped at the sight of him.
He was sweating profusely.
A deep, disturbing frown twisted his face. His lips looked dry and cracked, and his breathing came out harsh and shallow like every breath was a struggle.
“No… no… please let her go…” he mumbled weakly, pain and desperation etched across his face.
“Jaxon,” I whispered softly as I sat beside him, leaning closer.
He was having a nightmare.
A terrible one.
“Aaah… please… make it stop… it burns…”
His cry tore through the room, raw and broken.
My chest tightened painfully.
“Jaxon, wake up,” I urged gently, tapping his cheeks lightly with my hands, silently begging him to open his eyes.
But the moment my hand rested against his face, everything changed.
His hand shot up suddenly, grabbing my wrist.
His eyes flew open.
They locked onto mine instantly.
The intensity in them made my breath hitch.
Pain.
Guilt.
Anger.
Frustration.
And beneath all of that… pure exhaustion.
The kind of exhaustion that belonged to someone who had been fighting battles for far too long.
His breathing remained harsh, like he was still trying to escape whatever nightmare had trapped him.
My eyes searched his, trying to understand what was happening.
But before I could say anything, he suddenly pulled himself into a sitting position.
His grip on my hand tightened.
And then he pulled me into a hug.
The movement was so sudden I didn’t even have time to react.
His arms wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me firmly against his chest.
I froze in shock.
His heart pounded violently against my chest, the frantic rhythm vibrating through his entire body.
He was shaking.
Actually shaking.
One arm held me tightly while the other slowly began stroking up and down my back in a restless motion, like he was trying to calm himself down.
“I’m sorry… I’m really sorry,” he whispered.
His voice was filled with a kind of pain I couldn’t even begin to understand.
“Jaxon, this is—”
“I will never let anyone harm you.”
His voice cut through mine before I could finish speaking.
I tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened.
But his next words stopped me completely.
“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you before… but I promise to protect you now.”
The desperation in his voice.
The raw pain buried within those words.
It confused me.
His voice sounded broken.
Wounded.
Lost.
Before I could even stop myself, my hand slowly lifted and began patting his back gently in comfort, trying to calm the storm raging insi
de him.
And in that moment, one troubling thought quietly formed in my mind.
How am I supposed to hate this man…
…without feeling guilty for it?