Chapter 39
The edges of my vision are soft and blurry, like I’m waking from a dream I can’t quite grasp. The air smells sterile and sharp, and the steady beep of machines fills the silence around me.
My body feels heavy, sinking into the mattress, every limb weighed down by a thick fog. I try to move, but a dull ache spreads through my ribs, reminding me to stay still.
A voice cuts through the haze, calm, steady, familiar. “It’s okay, baby. Just breathe for me.”
Kade’s hand squeezes mine gently. “You’re doing really good. That’s it.”
I try to focus, to respond, but my mouth feels dry and heavy. Slowly, I lift my hands, my fingers twitching weakly as the fog in my mind begins to thin. They fumble blindly until they brush against something cold and smooth.
“It’s just an oxygen mask,” Kade says, his voice low and steady, calming, even if I feel anything but.
His eyes stay locked on mine as I tug at the mask, frustration bubbling in my sluggish movements. Without a word, he reaches up, his fingers grazing my cheek before carefully peeling it away, slow and deliberate, like he’s afraid I’ll break.
The sudden rush of air feels both freeing and overwhelming, and I cough softly, my chest tight but easing with each breath.
“Easy, Liv,” Kade soothes, his voice low and steady, “Slow breaths, baby.”
His hand moves to cup my face, thumb brushing away the wetness at the corner of my eye. Relief and something deeper flicker in his gaze—a fierce protectiveness that wraps around me like a shield.
I blink, voice shaky but desperate for connection. “Kade…”
He leans in closer, voice thick with emotion. “It’s okay. You're in the hospital.”
I feel my throat tighten, words catching like a lump I can’t swallow. But Kade’s steady presence grounds me, his hand warm and reassuring against my skin.
“Wh—” I try again, but my voice cracks. Instead, I squeeze his hand, desperate to hold on to something real, something solid.
He leans back just enough to search my eyes. “Take your time. I’m right here.”
The silence between us hums with everything we’re not saying—the fear, the confusion, the relief.
“W-what happened?” I ask, barely audible, my eyes searching his tired face.
Questions flood my mind—How did I get here? How long have I been like this? Flashes hit me without warning: the pop-up bar, the stumble, the fall—then nothing. Just black.
“My drink…” I whisper, fear clutching my chest.
“It’s okay, just breathe,” Kade soothes, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “The doctor will be in soon to explain everything. For now, just rest.”
I want to protest, to ask what happened, but my eyelids grow heavy. The fog in my mind pulls at me, dragging me under no matter how hard I try to fight it.
“Kade…” I manage, my voice barely a whisper.
“I’m right here,” he says quickly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”
That’s the last thing I hear before the darkness tugs me under again.
When I wake again, the room is dim and quiet, the harsh edges of earlier chaos replaced by stillness.
My gaze drifts slowly across the space until it lands on Kade.
He’s slouched in the chair beside me, eyes closed, his brows drawn tight even in sleep.
But his hand is still wrapped around mine, gripping it like he’s afraid to let go.
I shift slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and the movement stirs him awake. He startles with a soft gasp before rising and hovering over me, his fingers brushing tenderly over my cheek. I can’t help but smile at the familiar, comforting touch.
“Hey,” I whisper, and I watch as the tension in his shoulders finally begins to ease.
“Hey,” he replies softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a bus.” I chuckle, wincing at the ache that pulses through me. “What happened?”
Kade’s face drains of color as his fingers brush over my skin.
“I couldn’t find you. You were gone, and I…
” He closes his eyes, taking a steadying breath.
I reach up, my hand resting on his cheek, and he leans into the touch before continuing.
“Trent found you—unresponsive on the ground. Liv, I’ve never been so scared in my entire life. ”
Tears gather in his eyes as he lowers his forehead to mine.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” I whisper, my throat tight with emotion, as if trying to convince us both.
Kade lifts his head, his eyes searching my face as if trying to confirm I’m really okay.
The door opens quietly, and Kade straightens, his hand immediately finding mine as the doctor steps inside.
His gaze moves from Kade to me with gentle concern.
“Hi, Olivia. I’m Dr. Ashford,” he says softly, his voice steady yet warm. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve felt better,” I answer honestly, my voice still weak.
“You were unconscious for several hours after being brought in last night,” he explains.
I blink slowly, my mind still foggy but attentive.
“We ran some tests and found Rohypnol in your system. It’s a drug that can cause deep sleep, memory loss, and confusion.”
He pauses, letting the information sink in.
“You’re stable now, and we’ve been giving you oxygen to support your breathing. We’ll keep monitoring you for a few more hours, then discuss when it’s safe for you to be discharged.”
I nod slowly, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy fog.
Kade squeezes my hand gently, his presence steady and reassuring.
“What does this mean? Will I be, okay?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
The doctor meets my eyes with kindness. “You’re doing well so far. The drug usually wears off within several hours to a day, but we’ll keep a close watch to ensure there are no complications. You might feel weak or confused for a little while longer, but with rest and support, you’ll recover.”
I glance at Kade, whose jaw is clenched tight, but his eyes never leave mine. “The police have been here too, baby. They want to ask you some questions when you’re ready.”
The doctor steps in gently, interrupting. “We haven’t called your family, Olivia. Kade mentioned you wouldn’t want that, but I wanted to check with you now that you’re awake.”
I meet his gaze firmly. “Kade’s right. Please don’t call them.”
He nods understandingly. “Is there anything you need right now?”
I shake my head, and he offers a small, reassuring smile before quietly leaving the room.
Kade stays close even after the doctor leaves, his hand still cradling mine like he’s afraid to let go. The room is quiet except for the soft beep of the monitors and the faint hum of hospital machinery.
I shift slightly, exhaustion tugging at my limbs, but I can’t miss the haunted look on his face. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow and gentle.
“Kade,” I whisper, my voice barely more than breath.
His eyes finally meet mine—red-rimmed, glassy. He looks wrecked. “I’m so sorry, Liv. I shouldn’t have—” He swallows hard, his voice breaking. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected you.”
I shake my head, weak but sure. “You didn’t do this.” My fingers tighten around his. “I’m okay. Because of you.”
He exhales, but the guilt doesn’t fully leave his eyes. He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine, his breath warm and shaky.
“I was so scared,” he chokes, the words barely audible. “I thought I—” He breaks off, his throat working around the weight of it.
I reach up, touching his face, tracing the rough line of his jaw. “I’m right here,” I breathe, tears burning behind my eyes. “You’re here.”
Something in him crumples then, his walls splintering. He kisses my forehead softly, then my temple, his lips lingering like he’s memorizing the feel of me.
“I love you,” he says quietly, almost like he doesn’t realize the words have slipped out. But he doesn’t take them back. He just closes his eyes and holds on tighter.
My heart stumbles, full and fragile all at once. I can’t say it back—not yet. Not because I don’t feel it, but because I’m terrified that I do.
Kade must see it in my eyes, because he brushes his thumb along my cheek, his voice soft and unsteady.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he says gently. “I know it’s soon. I just… I just needed you to know.”
The weight of his words settles over me, warm and terrifying all at once. I squeeze his hand, holding on like it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
“I’ve never said those words to anyone before,” I whisper, my throat thick. “Not even my parents. I want to… I just…”
“It’s okay, baby,” he breathes, leaning in close, his forehead resting lightly against mine. “I understand.”