Chapter 35 Livvie
LIVVIE
A steady beep tugs me from the haze and my lashes blink.
My mind is foggy and a dull pulse echoes in my skull. Antiseptic laced with the familiar scent of cologne invades my nostrils.
That scent is my husband… Kingston.
A deep ache radiates from my shoulder, but it’s a distant throb, swallowed by a strange, hollow emptiness that settles in my heavy bones.
I can’t piece everything together. The clinical room swims at the edges of my vision, everything blurry and fragmented.
I roll my head a fraction, swallowing, finding Kingston’s fingers linked with mine. He’s sitting in a chair at my bedside, his hair a mess and dark crescents under his intense eyes.
This man’s presence is a tether to reality, but it’s not enough to ease the crushing sense of dread swelling inside me.
Something isn’t right.
He leans over the bed and presses a featherlight kiss to my forehead.
“Hey, princess.” His hoarse voice cracks on the words. “You sure know how to keep a man on his toes. They had you in surgery fixing the damage to your shoulder. You’ll be groggy with all the meds in your system.”
My body tingles in waves and I can’t tell if it’s the drugs in my bloodstream or the love I have for this man.
“What can I get you? Water?” he asks, thumbing my jaw.
I try to speak, but my throat is dry, thick. Every movement is slow, laborious, as if the undercurrent of pain is holding me captive.
When I move my legs, they tremble, but when I try to wiggle my fingers on my left hand, there’s no sensation.
“King… Kingston… my hand.”
His tired eyes close for a beat and when they open, they’re blacker than black. “The surgeon said there might be nerve damage but it’s too early to tell.”
“But…” I say on a croaky breath. “How will… I play?”
Kingston's fingers tighten, firm and reassuring. “You’re my everything, Livvie. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help you heal, to bring you back to the music. I’ll fly in the best specialists, a team of people who won’t stop until you play again.”
His voice is hoarse, and his promise weighted with a hint of desperation. “I swear to you, princess, I’ll fix this.”
The words hit me like a punch. My heartbeat flutters in my chest from the rush of fear, from learning I might never play to the same level I’d reached from years of dedication.
“I’m nothing without my music,” I whisper, the words tasting like acid on my tongue.
The very thought of losing the violin, of never feeling the strings beneath my fingertips, twists something deep inside of me. The violin isn’t just an instrument… It’s my goddamn soul.
And now, that piece of me might be gone forever.
“Who am I without it?”
When I stare off into the room, processing everything, the storm darkening my thoughts, Kingston presses his forehead to mine.
“You’re Olivia Viacava. My wife… my only priority. We’re in this together. To the fucking end, princess.”
I close my eyes, trying to absorb the sincerity in his voice, but it falls away like a distant echo.
The reality of my sacrifice creeps in. I traded my soul to keep him alive. The very thing that defined me, that kept me whole.
For him, I’ve lost so much more than I ever could. And in the realization that follows, I wonder… who Livvie Viacava would be without the pieces of herself she’s lost.
The electric door swishes open, and my mother clip-clops inside, the rich scent of coffee wafting behind her. She sets two cups down on the small table by the window and turns to face the bed.
Her gaze falls on me, and she freezes for a moment, her eyes softening with a mixture of relief and concern.
She’s always been the strong one, the woman who faced the world with poise and strength, but today, I see the cracks in her armor. The exhaustion in her shoulders, the faint lines around her eyes, tell me she’s been carrying a heavy burden of her own.
Without a word, she crosses to my bedside and bends over me. Her hand comes up to my cheek, stroking my hair as she presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Oh, sweetheart. You scared me to death.”
For a moment, I almost want to cry, to let her soothe the ache inside me.
But tears don’t come and my dry throat only gets thicker.
The silence stretches between us when I can’t bring myself to say a word.
I draw into myself, my gaze dropping to the white sheets, my chest tight with dread. I want to speak, to reassure her, but the words are lodged somewhere deep inside me, locked behind the fear and the realization that I’m not the woman I once was.
“Livvie… sweetheart. It’ll be okay. If you need to come home, just say the word. I’ll take ya back to Ireland with me.”
“No,” Kingston bites out, the force of it like a growl. “Her home is with me, Fiona.”
My mother’s gaze flicks between me and him. Then she nods. “Yes, her home is with you. You’re welcome in our home.”
Her gentle touch lingers on my hair, fingers brushing against my scalp, but I’m too numb to appreciate it.
Kingston stands to his full height. The tension in his posture is unmistakable, a raw intensity that fills the space.
“Fiona,” he says, his tone clipped and firm, “give us a moment.”
My mother blinks, looking up at him, her eyes wide. She hesitates for a moment, glancing back at me, but Kingston doesn’t give her a chance to protest.
He rounds the bed and places a hand on her shoulder, guiding her toward the door.
“Leave us,” he adds, his voice brokering no argument. “My wife needs space.”
She leaves without an argument, her heels clipping the floor as she closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with Kingston.
The atmosphere shifts the second the door clicks shut. Kingston’s sole focus zeroes in on me, and all the concern from his face leaves. He returns to the side of the bed, his movements confident.
“Livvie,” he says, nudging my chin up with his knuckles. “Look at me, princess. I need you to see me right now. To hear me.”
His voice carries an authority that has me obeying, meeting his wide inky pupils where fear and love have mixed together.
“I made you a promise, wife,” he continues, his tone softening as he leans in closer.
His breath brushes my forehead as he presses a kiss there. “You’re not losing yourself, Livvie. You’re redefining the limits, pushing the boundaries as the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
His eyes lock on mine, still holding that masculine strength he carries in every moment, especially when it comes to me.
But beneath the steel, there’s something vulnerable, raw, that makes my chest tighten. His hand moves up, cupping my cheek with a tenderness so gentle it sends a shiver down my spine.
“I’m right here, Livvie,” he whispers, his voice a low growl, thick with raw emotion, the sound reverberating through my bones. “When you cry, I’ll wipe your tears. When you fall, I’ll pick you up, because you have all of me, princess.”
His grip tightens, but there’s no anger in it, only urgency. “But I swear to fuck, don’t you ever leave my side again. Not for some reckless, selfish fucking mission like that. Do you understand? Those bastards could have killed you, Livvie. Just like that.”
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it impossible to speak for a moment.
When I clear my throat, my voice comes out all croaky. “I went there to protect you… and I’d do it again, Kingston. They want you dead. They wanted me to pull the trigger. They want us both gone.”
His jaw clenches, the muscles working beneath his skin. His gaze never wavers from mine, and there’s a flicker of something primal in his eyes.
“Livvie,” he warns, his voice thick, almost a growl. “I’d rather fucking die than see you in pain. You understand? I won’t ever permit you to be collateral damage. Not now. Not ever.”
His voice softens as he rubs my arm like he’s trying to wake it up.
“I love you, Livvie,” he says. “Like madly fucking in love with you. And nothing will ever change that.”
The heat of friction tingles through my arm and my fingers flare to life. Slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep, the faintest twitch happens like a spark igniting in my left hand.
The numbness is replaced by warmth, by a spreading pulse of sensation. My fingers curl until they grip the sheet.
“Kingston,” I gasp. “I can feel—”
His eyes go wide as he watches my hand move a little, then my arm.
“Holy fuck, baby… You’re doing it,” he breathes, his voice raspy. “I knew you’d do it. Fuck, you’re a true Viacava. My sexy as fuck warrior.”
My smile widens when he lifts my left hand, kisses it, and threads his fingers with my weak ones.
In that moment, his returning smile is so damn genuine, my heart swells and tears sting my eyes. Relief and love for this man wash over me in a wave.
The warmth of his kiss sends a shiver through me, every nerve in my body awakening, as if my skin is hypersensitive to his lips.
His thumb runs along the inside of my wrist, a soft caress, and the fire that’s always been between us burns hot, even after everything we’ve been through.
He leans in, his lips hovering just above mine, the heat of his breath mingling with mine.
“Kingston…” I whisper, my voice trembling from the closeness of him, the intensity of his gaze. “Thank you for always saving me.”
“That’s my job, princess. Protecting and worshipping my wife.”
He presses his lips to mine in a kiss that’s slow and tender at first. But when I whimper into his mouth, the floodgates open, and it deepens, turning harder, hungrier.
His hand slides into my hair, holding me closer, securing me against him as he claims my mouth in a way that makes my pulse spike, sending welcomed shock waves through me.
The machine beside us goes wild, the rapid beeping an echo of my racing heart.
I melt into him, every inch of my body responding to his desire. The kiss pulls every ounce of tension from my limbs, filling the spaces of my fear and doubt with his love, his protection, and his devotion.
His hands move over my body with the kind of tender possessiveness that serves to make me stronger.
“I need you,” he growls against my lips, his voice thick with heat and desperation. “You’re my wife. Every part of you is mine.”
Just as I begin to lose myself in the heat of his kiss, the door to the room opens, and a deep and unapologetically cocky voice cuts through the heat.
“Well, it’s good to know you're well enough to get down and dirty, Livvie,” Bronx’s voice booms from the doorway, the edge of humor in his tone impossible to miss.
"Kingston…" he calls. "I need a word… like right now."
My heart stutters, and for a split second, I don’t know if I can breathe. Our connection breaks, replaced by a rush of unease, a cold wave of dread sweeping over me.
Kingston’s face hardens, his posture straightening as he looks back at his brother, exhaling a breath, annoyance flickering in his eyes.
“Fine,” Kingston responds. He turns back to me, his gaze softening just for a moment as he brushes a lock of hair from my face. “I’ll be right back.”
But as he starts to walk away from me, unease knots inside my chest.
When the door clicks shut behind him, leaving me in the sterile silence, my stomach sinks even further.