Chapter 21 #2
Does he know she’s got the timeline wrong? Does he realize she’s missing five years?
I lean down and press a kiss to Livianna’s forehead, careful to avoid the bandages. “I’ll be right back, love. Just rest, okay?”
“Don’t leave.” Her grip on my hand tightens with surprising strength.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I squeeze back gently. “Just talking to the doctor for a second. I promise.”
She releases me, and I follow Dr. Smith through the curtain. The second we’re on the other side, my gaze finds Jaxon standing near the wall, partially hidden in the shadows.
Every line on his face tells a story of devastation. His jaw is clenched so hard I can see the muscle ticking beneath his beard.
His arms are crossed over his chest like he’s trying to keep himself from tearing through that drape. But it’s his eyes that gut me—dark, hollow, and completely shattered.
He heard everything. Every word, question, and answer that erased him from her memory.
The woman he’s been with just called me her boyfriend. She doesn’t remember falling in love with him. She doesn’t remember carrying his child.
He’s frozen in place, a king brought to his knees by something he can’t fight or control. And for the first time since we saw each other in the emergency room, I don’t see my rival. I see a man watching his entire world collapse while standing three feet away from the woman he loves.
Dr. Smith clears his throat. “We need to discuss Ms. Hemings’ condition.”
He gestures for us to step further into the hallway, away from Livianna’s door. He closes it behind us with a soft click.
“Gentlemen, Ms. Hemings is experiencing what we call retrograde amnesia.” His voice is measured and clinical. “It’s not completely uncommon with severe head trauma like hers. It seems she’s lost approximately five years of memory.”
“How is that possible?” Jaxon’s expression melts into strained agony. “She doesn’t remember anything from the past five years?”
“That appears to be the case based on her responses.” Dr. Smith motions to her room with the wave of his hand. “She believes she’s eighteen and in New Jersey for a birthday celebration. Her last clear memory seems to be from that timeframe.”
“Will she get her memory back?” Jaxon steps closer to the doctor, his desperation seeping through his poised exterior. “How long will this last?”
“I can’t give you definitive answers, Mr. Crowne.” The doctor’s posture softens. “Some patients recover their memories within days or weeks. Others regain them in fragments over months, and some never recover certain periods at all.”
“Never?” Jaxon rubs the side of his neck.
“It’s possible, yes.” Dr. Smith doesn’t sugarcoat it. “The brain is complex. Trauma affects everyone differently.”
Jaxon runs his palm down his face, his composure fracturing with each passing second. “I need to comfort her and talk to her. Maybe if she sees me or hears my voice, it could trigger something.”
“Absolutely not.” Dr. Smith’s tone hardens. “That’s the worst thing you could do right now.”
“She’s my partner.” Jaxon’s voice rises. “I have a right to—”
“You have a right to nothing if it puts my patient at risk.” The doctor shakes his head.
“Forcing memories or presenting her with information that contradicts her current reality could cause significant psychological trauma. We’re talking about potential seizures, panic attacks, or a complete mental breakdown. Is that what you want?”
“No, she’s prone to panic attacks.” Jaxon drops his gaze, and his shoulders roll forward. “She had one this morning.”
I shift to hold in the mix of emotions churning in my gut. They’re making it hard to stand still.
Jaxon suffering like this should be a victory. He’s the man who had Livianna’s heart while I was clawing out of my own hell.
But he’s also the man who gave me a chance when I had nowhere else to turn. He has my respect and always has. Even after I figured out he’s Livianna’s king.
“What about the baby?” Jaxon stares at the floor, broken. “When can we tell her she lost our child?”
Dr. Smith takes a moment before he answers. “Not now. Not until she’s more stable. Adding that kind of traumatic information on top of her current confusion could cause irreparable damage. We need to let her brain heal first.”
“So what?” Jaxon’s head snaps up. He gestures toward me without looking my way. “We just let her believe she’s eighteen? Let her think she’s still with him?”
“For now, yes.” The doctor slides his hands into the pockets of his white coat. “Her brain is protecting itself by reverting to a safer time. We don’t force it to confront trauma it’s not ready to process.”
“This is insane.” Jaxon turns away, his muscles rigid with tension.
“This is medicine, Mr. Crowne. And right now, Ms. Hemings’ mental and physical well-being takes precedence over anyone’s discomfort with the situation.” Dr. Smith relaxes his stance. “I understand this is difficult for both of you, but my priority is my patient’s recovery. Nothing else matters.”
Dr. Smith excuses himself, leaving Jaxon and me standing in the hallway with the weight of everything we just learned crushing down on us.
Jaxon glares at Livianna’s closed door like he’s trying to see through it. His entire body is coiled tight, ready to strike. For the first time since I’ve known him, he seems completely powerless.
Our eyes meet across the space between us. No words pass, but something shifts. An acknowledgment that despite everything, despite our new rivalry, our history, and the mess we’re both tangled in, we have the same desire.
We want Livianna to be healthy, and we’ll do anything to make sure that happens. Even if we destroy each other in the process.