Page 86 of Fallen Empire
I blinked at the word, my brain struggling to connect the idea ofleavingwith the body that still felt like it had been stitched together with panic and pain.
“Now?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jaxson moved closer, brushing a strand of hair off my forehead with a tenderness that nearly broke me.
“Not today,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “Maybe in the next few days. When your body’s ready. You still need some therapy here first, just enough to make sure you’re strong enough to go home.”
Home.
The word echoed in my mind like a question I didn’t know how to answer. Because I wasn’t even sure wherehomewas anymore. Not really.
Was it the Penthouse at The Murray, the very one I’d been taken from while in my own room, my so-called safe place? Was it back in Alabama, now that I was finally free from Bruce and the threat of my life dangling in the air?
Or was it here, in Manhattan, with Millie? She was the closest thing I had to family now.
Jaxson spoke, bringing me to the present. As if he had read my mind. “You won’t be alone,” he said quietly, no hesitation. “I won’t let you go home without help. I’ll be with you day and night if I have to. If that’s what you want.”
A soft laugh escaped me, dry and tired. “You have a multi-million-dollar business to run.”
He didn’t even blink. “None of that matters when you need me.” His words settled over me like a promise I didn’t yet understand. Surely it was pity. Maybe guilt.
But deep down, I wanted to believe it was more.
More than duty.
More than the scars or the headlines or the weight of what I’d survived.
Because if this—he—wasn’t my home, then what was?
The Penthouse didn’t feel safe anymore. Alabama didn’t feel like me anymore. And for all my pretending, neither did the version of myself that used to exist before the war broke out inside my body.
I wasn’t that girl anymore. I didn’t want to be.
But I hadn’t figured out who I was now either.
Maybe that’s why I couldn’t let go. Why I needed him close.
Because Jaxson didn’t flinch when he looked at me.
And if there was any version of home left for me in this world…
He was it.
I’d offered my life on a silver platter to save his. That kind of sacrifice sticks to people—wraps around them like obligation.
It didn’t mean hewantedme.
The scars my body already carried were bad enough. But now?
I didn’t even want to look. Didn’t want to know what new damage had been carved into me beneath this hospital gown. What new proof existed that my body would never be mine again.
So instead, I turned my face to the window and let the silence stretch between us. It was easier than letting him see the way I was starting to come undone. Easier to stare at the morning light and pretend the world outside was still spinning the same as before.
A soft voice broke through the quiet. “Okay, dear, do you think you can try to sit up?” Nurse Ruth asked, stepping closer with that calm, no-nonsense smile.
I blinked, trying to hide the nerves rippling through me. Sitting up sounded simple. Ridiculously simple. But after everything my body had been through, even breathing too deep still hurt.
Still, I nodded. Because I couldn’t let them see the pain. Because if it ended up just being me again when this was all over… I had to know I could survive.
