Chapter 30 Naomi
Waking to the warmth of Jaxon’s body heat has never been something I ever planned to do, but I can’t help but bury my head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls me—for a moment—before reality crashes in.
The second I look up, Jaxon’s eyes meet mine.
He watches me with an intensity that somehow unnerves and soothes me all at once.
For a second, I don’t know where I am, only that his gaze holds me in place, soft and tender in a way I never expected from him.
But I can't stop staring at his chest—where the gunshot wound should be. It’s healed.
Completely. No bandages. No blood. Just smooth, unbroken skin like it never happened.
How? My breath catches. How is that even possible?
I saw him go down. I saw the blood. No one heals that fast…
not without something unnatural at play.
My heart stutters, a cold sliver of unease sliding down my spine even as his warmth surrounds me.
I spent all night trying to get him to tell me, but his only answer was that Aisha's dad is brilliant. Dr. Mortez is good, but no doctor is that good.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice a deep rasp that makes my stomach flutter.
His hand lifts to brush a wild curl away from my face, his fingers grazing my skin like a whisper.
Then, before I can move or even think, he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.
It’s so gentle, so disarming, that my whole body locks up.
My breath halts in my throat as his lips linger there, warm and soft, like he’s trying to tell me something without words.
When he pulls back, his eyes drop to my lips. For a heartbeat, I think he won’t do it. But then he does, leaning in slowly, his intent clear.
“Jaxon, I—” I shift back, my words coming out shaky, unsure. His lips stop just shy of mine, but instead of looking hurt, he smiles—this slow, knowing smile that makes my chest ache.
“How did you sleep, Mi cielo?” he says softly.
The new nickname sends a shiver down my spine.
Mi cielo. My heaven. It’s bad enough when he calls me Reina, but now this.
It takes on a whole new meaning, and I can see it in the way he looks at me.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I push the feeling down, sitting up and pulling away from his warmth.
“I should go,” I say, my voice faltering. “We’re still in Marina del Rey, right?”
Jaxon shakes his head, leaning back against the headboard, his shirt rumpled and hair falling into his face in a way that makes it hard to look away. “No. We’re on Catalina Island now.”
My head snaps toward him. “What? Catalina? Why—why would you bring me here without telling me?”
His brow furrows, but there’s no guilt in his expression. If anything, he looks calm, like he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. “You fell asleep, Naomi. You needed rest. I thought some time away might be good for you…after everything.”
“Who told you it was okay to make decisions for me?” I stand, my heart racing. Catalina? This isn’t what I had planned. I wasn’t supposed to stay. “I need to go back. My family—Christian—”
The second the words leave my mouth, his entire demeanor changes. His calm shatters, replaced by a sharpness that makes the room feel smaller.
“Christian?” he repeats, his voice tight, his jaw clenching. “So, what is this to you?” He gestures between us. “You spent the whole night in my arms, Naomi. You held me like I was the one thing keeping you together, and now you want to go back to him?”
“He’s still my fiancé. Nothing has changed. I was just happy you were okay,” I say, sliding from under the plush duvet and padding to the ensuite bathroom. “I made a commitment to marry him.”
“And that commitment is shot to shit, don’t you think?” His voice rises, frustration and something deeper bleeding into his tone as he flies out of the bed after me.
“I don’t want to fight, Jaxon,” I say quickly, brushing my teeth to escape his intensity.
I spit, rinsing my mouth. I pick at my wild hair in the mirror, peering from tired eyes, puffy from crying all night.
I grip the counter, willing myself to breathe, the nagging nudge of a panic attack rearing its ugly head.
Behind me, there’s a cautious approach of footsteps, Jaxon’s presence filling the bathroom before I even look up. He exhales, “All right, no fighting. Just… give me the weekend.”
I lift my eyes to the mirror and find him standing behind me, his reflection more intense under the vanity lights.
There’s a quiet hunger in his gaze—not lust, but something heavier.
Something that makes my chest tighten. His hands slide to my waist, holding me gently but firmly, like he’s afraid I might disappear if he loosens his grip even for a second.
My breath stutters. I should pull away. I should.
“The weekend?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, though it scrapes my throat like gravel. I don’t know why I’m asking. I already know what he means. Maybe I just want him to say it again. To give me more reason not to run.
He nods, his chin brushing my shoulder as he rests it there. “The weekend.” His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and the sincerity I see there—raw, aching—steals the air from my lungs.
My heart twists.
What am I doing?
This isn’t simple. This can’t be simple. He isn’t mine. I shouldn’t want this.
But shit, I do. I really do.
For a moment, I can’t think, speak, or breathe. I just let him hold me, my body betraying the chaos in my mind. Then, finally, I nod, “Okay,” I whisper. “Just the weekend.”
Lie to him. Lie to yourself. Pretend that it’ll only be that long.
His lips curl into a soft smile, as if that one word gave him something to hope for. His arms loop around me tighter, and he leans down, pressing a feather-light kiss to the crown of my head.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Let’s get dressed. Nyx has a surprise for you.”
After we are all showered and dressed, Jaxon doesn’t explain the surprise as we leave the cabin. He grabs my hand and leads me out to the breakfast bar.
The morning air is refreshing as it whips around me, the salt from the sea carries on the breeze, and for a moment, I feel a deep calm.
“What is this?” I ask, glancing up at him. Yet, he doesn’t answer, just smirks, his eyes crinkling with something that looks a lot like mischief.
The breakfast bar is set up beautifully—an open space with soft white linens draped over the tables, which are covered with platters of pastries, bowls of fruit, and pitchers of fresh juice. But that’s not what catches my attention.
“Aisha?” The name barely leaves my lips before she turns her head over her shoulder.
“Naomi!”
Her shriek mirrors mine, and within seconds, we’re running toward each other. The high-pitched squeals that burst from both of us are unrestrained, pure joy, and deafening.
“Fucking hell,” Cade mutters from somewhere behind us. “Do they have to be this loud this early in the morning?” He looks like he’s nursing the beginning of a hangover; in fact, as I take in the rest of the men, they don’t look much better off.
“Apparently, yes,” Xay grumbles, and I catch Nyx rubbing his forehead out of the corner of my eye.
But I don’t care. Aisha and I crash into each other, hugging so tightly it’s like we’re trying to fuse into one person. Tears sting my eyes, and I laugh, my heart so full it might burst.
“You’re here!” I say, pulling back enough to look at her, my hands cupping her face. “How—when—”
“Thank Nyx.” She shakes her head, grinning. “Xay came and got me after the general here,”—she tosses her head in his direction—“gave the okay.”
I whirl around to find Nyx shaking his head, leaning casually against the edge of the bar. “You did this?”
“There’s more,” he says, his tone teasing.
Before I can question him, the sound of a door opening behind me makes me turn. Courtney, Lisa, and Taylor step outside, their faces lighting up the second they spot me.
“Naomi!”
That’s when I lose it. Tears spill down my cheeks as I run to them, throwing my arms around all three of them at once. It’s chaotic and messy, and none of us cares.
“I can’t believe you’re all here,” I say through the tears, laughing as Lisa kisses my cheek and Courtney tugs on my curls.
“We couldn’t let you have all the fun without us,” Taylor says with a wink, scooping me into his arms for a tight squeeze.
Overwhelmed, I break away and turn to Nyx, who’s still watching me, his expression softer now. He looks almost…pleased.
I run into his arm, tears still falling, and without thinking, I tug him to my height, my lips pressing softly to his. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
He tilts his head, his lips curving into a small smile as he runs his thumb over my tear-stained cheek. “You’re welcome, Mia Pace.”
For a moment, it’s just us—his arms steady around me, his eyes holding mine. And in that moment, I realize how much thought and care he's put into this. And my heart doesn’t know what to do with it.
Taylor whistles—garnering our attention—his easy grin lighting up the room as he picks Courtney up, wrapping her legs around his waist. She squeals, her laughter bubbling over as she half-heartedly slaps his chest.
“Come on, babe, put me down!” she protests, though it’s clear she isn’t really trying to get away.
Taylor smirks and calls over his shoulder, “Get your suit, Ni. We’re going jet skiing!” Courtney squeals when he slaps her on her ass.
The announcement hits me like a splash of cold water. Jet skiing? Me? My excitement falters for a moment, giving way to apprehension.
“I don’t know,” I say, biting my lip. “I’ve never really—”
“Don’t worry, Dollface,” Nyx’s smooth voice interrupts, and before I can even finish my sentence, his hands are on my hips as he reassures me. “You’ll be in good hands.”
I blink up at him just as he flashes me that signature smirk, the one that reeks of mischief. And before I can even protest, he lifts me, tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
“Nyx!”