Chapter 143: Paige
Chapter 143: Paige
Today’s the day.
After three long weeks in this hospital—after two surgeries, countless IVs, endless hours of physio, and more painkillers than I care to count—I’m finally being discharged.
Some of the doctors weren’t thrilled about it.
"You could benefit from a few more weeks of monitored recovery," one of them had said, his lips pressing into a thin line as he reviewed my file one last time.
"She’s not at risk anymore," another had chimed in. "It’s safe for her to go."
And that was the deciding factor.
I was safe enough. And I was leaving.
I adjust the oversized hoodie Jaxon bought me, the fabric warm and comforting as I lean on my crutches. I still have some healing left to do—my leg is far from perfect, and my ribs still ache if I move too quickly—but I don’t care.
I just want to get out of here.
The nurses come first.
Each one takes their turn hugging me, their voices overlapping in a rush of well wishes and instructions.
"Don’t push yourself too hard, Paige!"
"Remember what we told you about muscle fatigue—rest if you need it!"
"You’re gonna do great, sweetheart. Just take it slow!"
Some of these women took care of me even when I was unconscious. They were the ones who kept me alive, who changed my IVs, who checked in on Jaxon when he refused to sleep, who were there every step of the way.
And now they’re letting me go.
I hug them all, one after the other, genuinely grateful for every single one of them.
Then the physio staff comes over, each shaking my hand, giving me quick one-armed hugs that feel like both congratulations and encouragement.
"You worked hard, Paige. We’re proud of you."
"Make sure to keep up your stretches, yeah?"
"You’re tougher than you look. Keep that fire, kid."
I smile at all of them, swallowing the lump in my throat. I didn’t expect to feel so emotional leaving this place, but they all took care of me.
They helped me walk again.
And then—
They turn to Jaxon.
The energy shifts.
The staff hesitates—like they’re debating whether or not they should shake his hand, or if that’s a risk to their own health.
Some do it quickly, barely brushing his palm before snatching their hand back like they just touched a hot stove.
Some look nervous as hell, eyes darting between him and me like they can’t wrap their heads around how a guy like Jaxon Steele became my person.
And then there are a select few—the ones who saw him with me every day, the ones who noticed the way he watched over me like a damn guard dog, the ones who saw him pace the halls when he thought no one was looking.
They smile at him.
They get it.
One of the older nurses reaches up and pats Jaxon’s cheek like he’s a child.
"You know, you’re not as scary as you look, sweetheart."
Jaxon blinks.
I nearly choke trying not to laugh.
And then, as if that single moment opened some kind of floodgate, every single nurse starts talking at once.
"Oh, trust me, we were scared of him the first few days—"
"Scared?! We made bets on whether or not he was gonna stab someone for bringing Paige the wrong food—"
"I still think he glared a doctor into early retirement—"
"I walked in on him standing over Paige’s bed at 2 AM once and I nearly had a heart attack—"
"The best was when we tried to get him to sleep and he just said, ‘I don’t need it.’ Like he’s a goddamn vampire—"
"Or a robot! Seriously, I didn’t see him blink for hours—"
They all talk over each other, their voices blending into a chaotic mess of overlapping stories, hands flying, eyes filled with barely hidden amusement.
Jaxon leans against the wall, arms crossed, head tilted slightly, letting them say whatever they want.
And then—
I see it.
The tiniest smirk.
It barely even registers, but I see it.
His lips twitch just slightly, his storm-grey eyes flickering with something close to amusement, and I swear I could die happy right now.
But of course, the nurses aren’t done.
"I told you he’s just a big teddy bear!" one of them says, pointing at him.
"A grumpy teddy bear," another corrects.
"Yeah, a teddy bear that could kill you—"
"He’s still a teddy bear. Just, you know. Deadly."
Jaxon sighs.
It’s not annoyed—not really. More like resigned acceptance.
"Are we done?" he finally mutters, straightening up.
One of the nurses winks at me. "He talks! I was starting to think Paige was dating a statue."
I snort. Jaxon groans.
And that’s how we leave the nurse’s station.
But right before we reach the exit, I notice something.
A huge basket of food sitting on the counter.
Muffins, donuts, chocolates, fruit skewers, even a giant jug of coffee with creamers and sugar on the side.
It wasn’t there this morning.
And then it clicks.
I turn to Jaxon, raising an eyebrow. "Did you do this?"
He doesn’t answer.
But the way he avoids my gaze, the way his jaw shifts slightly, the way he casually lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug—
That’s a yes.
"Jaxon," I say, my voice quieter now.
He still doesn’t look at me. "It’s nothing."
It’s not nothing.
It’s everything.
Because Jaxon Steele—the most dangerous man I’ve ever met, the guy who could kill someone without blinking, the guy who spent weeks covered in blood and bruises for me—just went to a hospital gift shop and bought a thank-you basket for the staff that took care of me.
Because he noticed.
He remembers every name, every person who checked in on me, every nurse that adjusted my pillows or changed my IVs or helped me sit up when I was too weak to do it myself.
He won’t say it out loud, but he’s grateful.
And I know that means more than anything.
I don’t push him.
I just take his hand, squeezing it gently.
His fingers tighten around mine—just slightly—but it’s enough.
As we step outside, the cold air hits my face, crisp and fresh.
I inhale deeply, for the first time in what feels like forever, breathing in the outside world.
No hospital monitors. No sterile rooms.
Just me and Jaxon, walking away together.
He glances at me. "You ready?"
I nod.
"Yeah. Let’s get the hell out of here."