Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
JAXON/JAX
Now
No Kingdom When There’s No Queen
Some losses don’t announce themselves with screams…they arrive in silence, erasing you one memory at a time.
The hallway walls are closing in on me with each breath I force into my lungs. Cash stands across from me, his expression is one of exhaustion.
We’re both wrecked. Both trying to process what just happened.
Livianna doesn’t remember me. Two years of building something extraordinary with her, gone. Vanished like it never existed.
My throat constricts as I force the words out. “I need to ask you something.”
Cash’s gaze shifts to mine, guarded but not hostile. “What?”
“Let me see her.” The request scrapes against every ounce of pride I have left. “Just once. When she’s asleep. I just need to see her with my own eyes.”
He runs his palm over his chin and glances at Livianna’s door. His jaw works as if he’s chewing on the idea, trying to figure out if this is some kind of trap or manipulation.
Fair enough. We’ve been in a standoff since the moment we realized we both love the same woman.
“Jaxon—”
“I know what the doctor said.” My last plea presses on me and begs before he can throw the medical warnings back at me. “I’m not going to wake her, or try to trigger her memory, or force her to remember me. I just need to see that she’s okay. That’s all I’m asking.”
Cash shifts, uncertainty flickering across his features. “Why? So you can torture yourself more?”
“Think about it, Cash. If you were in my shoes, you’d want the same thing. My request is about…loving her.” I swallow my emotions. “And because I need to see for myself that she’s still breathing. I need to see she’s still here even if I’m not part of her world anymore.”
Cash studies me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth or if this is another attempt to claim territory I no longer have access to.
“One favor, Cash. That’s all I’m asking. Let me see her, and then I’ll leave. I’ll walk out of this hospital and let you be whatever she needs right now.”
He drags his teeth over his bottom lip and rubs the side of his neck. His expression softens. It’s not sympathy exactly, but something close to understanding.
He knows what it’s like to love her and not be able to reach her. He’s been there for years while I had her.
“Fine.” His brow furrows, and he gives me a stern stare. “But there are conditions.”
“Name them.”
“You don’t touch her or say a word. You don’t do anything that could wake her up or upset her if she does wake up.” His tone hardens, and he points to her room. “If she stirs even a little, you leave immediately. No arguments or hesitation.”
“Agreed.”
“I mean it, Jaxon.” Cash steps closer, his protective instinct for Livianna overriding whatever truce we just formed. “She’s fragile right now. Her brain is trying to protect itself, and I won’t let you fuck that up because you need closure or whatever this is.”
“I understand.” And I do because I want what he does.
We want her safe and cared for.
“When?” I take a deep breath, and hate that I’m allowing someone else dictate what I do.
This is so out of character, but I’ll take even the smallest piece of her that I can get.
Cash glances down the hallway, then back at me. “Give it an hour and let her settle. Let the painkillers kick in so she’s properly asleep. Then I’ll come get you.”
Cash turns and disappears back into Livianna’s room. The door clicks shut behind him with a truth that echoes down the empty hallway.
I’m alone, and Livianna and I are over.
The distance between us now presses against my skull like a vice tightening with each passing second. My feet move before my mind catches up, carrying me down the corridor in a path that has no destination.
Just movement, something to keep my body from collapsing under the weight of everything crashing down around me.
She doesn’t remember me. She doesn’t remember us. My heart bleeds and drains all of my hopes, leaving me empty to the core.
Two years of discovering how she takes her coffee, what makes her laugh, what sets her on fire, and witnessing her become a powerful businesswoman I admire.
All that time, I was falling so completely in love with her that I forgot what it was like to breathe without her in my orbit.
Gone. All of it is just gone.
Once I reach the end of the hallway, I drag my palm down over my beard. I turn back.
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead. This place reeks of antibacterial cleaner and desperation, like lives being saved and lost in equal measure.
I check my watch. Forty-three minutes until Cash comes to get me. Forty-three minutes of pacing this hallway like a caged animal waiting for scraps.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Axel has another update on the SUV investigation. I don’t even respond. Nothing matters right now except getting through the next hour without losing my mind.
The waiting room looms ahead. I go in and sink onto one of the cushioned chairs. I glance around.
It’s a nicely decorated room. I’m sure it’s meant to soothe people who are stressed, but it only reminds me of the contrast between what I want and what my reality is. The two aren’t even close.
My body is a tense wreck. Although inside I’m empty. The television mounted in the corner drones on with the late-night news. Hours have passed since I was supposed to tell Livianna everything and fight for our love.
Who knew our time was so limited?
The next segment of stories they’re reporting on begins.
“Our top coverage tonight remains focused on the traffic accident of former child star actress and now top fashion mogul, Livianna Hemings.”
My head snaps up.
A reporter stands at an intersection I recognize. Police tape circles off the area. Debris from the crash still litters the pavement. The camera pans across the scene as the reporter’s voice fills the waiting room.
“Earlier this afternoon, a serious car crash occurred involving fashion designer Livianna Hemings. Witnesses at the scene reported that the lead singer of the wildly popular rock band Mayhem, Cash Mayze, believed to be her on-again boyfriend, was seen attempting to render aid immediately following the collision.”
Her on-again boyfriend.
The detail pierces my soul with sickening precision.
“Information remains limited at this time, but sources indicate Ms. Hemings was transported to a local hospital with serious injuries. We’ll continue to monitor this developing story and bring you updates as information becomes available.”
The broadcast cuts to the cast, who all pay their respects to Livianna and send well wishes for a speedy recovery.
I stare at the screen and shrink to a speck of dust. Even the media thinks they’re together. The world outside this hospital believes the narrative that erased me from her life.
I dig my fingers into my palms hard enough to leave marks. Cash Mayze, her on-again boyfriend. The phrase repeats in my mind like a curse I can’t shake.
They don’t know anything about us. Our time together is void.
They don’t know about our love affair that started in Paris, or the romantic trips we’ve shared in exotic locations, or the way she whispered my name in the dark. And most importantly, they have no clue about the baby we lost today.
All they see is what’s always been there. Cash and Livianna. The love story that started when they were kids and apparently never really ended.
The hour crawls by like years compressed into minutes. When Cash finally appears, he gets straight to it.
“She’s asleep. The painkillers knocked her out about ten minutes ago.”
I stand, my legs unsteady beneath me. “Thank you.”
Cash studies me for a long moment, weighing something. Then he surprises me.
“I’m giving you five minutes alone with her, Jaxon.”
My breath catches. “Really?”
“Five minutes. That’s it.” He relaxes a bit. “You’ve supported me for a long time. And you’ve supported Livianna’s career in ways I never could. Deep down, I know she’d want this. So I’m giving you time…for her.”
The gesture lands heavier than any billion-dollar deal could. “Cash—”
“Don’t press your luck.” His tone hardens. “Five minutes, and then she needs to rest. That’s all you get.”
I nod because words won’t form past the lump in my throat.
Cash leads me to her door and pushes it open. “I’ll be back. Just don’t upset her.”
I step through the doorway, and the sight of her steals whatever composure I had left. The room is dimmer than before, the lights lowered for sleep. Machines beep softly in rhythm with her breathing.
Livianna lies motionless in the hospital bed, her face pale beneath the bruises blooming across her cheek and temple. Bandages wrap around her head, right above the black eye she has. An IV drips liquid into her arm. She’s so small against the white sheets, so fragile and broken.
My limbs go weak, and I have to suck in a ragged breath to center myself. The sight of her in such a delicate state has me reeling.
Every part of me wants to take her away, find the best doctors that can fix her, and make her remember us. Then the truth hits.
This is my fault. My enemies did this. The people after me found the one person I love more than anything, and they used her to send a message. They took our baby, stole her memories, and tried to kill her.
I tremble as my vision distorts. I can’t process the magnitude of what I’ve lost and what I could still lose if they come for her again.
A suffocating pressure bears down on my lungs. I know this terror. I’ve felt it before.
When I was twelve, I stood in front of three caskets and watched my entire family lowered into the ground. It was then I realized I was alone. I understood loving people meant losing them in the most savage ways possible.
This is history repeating itself. Another person I love being ripped away because of who I am and what I know. Where it used to be my driving force, it’s become my vengeance.