Iwake up and something’s off. Like, really off.My leg doesn’t hurt.
I blink at the ceiling, then roll so fast I nearly tumble off the bed.Did I already take this morning’s pill?Last night feels like a fever dream—a blur of hands and heat and whispered words—but no, I haven’t taken anything yet.
Since the accident, pain has been my constant companion. A searing current that tears me from sleep and makes every step a negotiation. But not today. I even slept in.
If it weren’t for the brace still wrapped around my leg—and the tightness of the thick surgical bandages beneath it—I’d almost joke that I never got hurt in the first place. But that would be obviously insane, no one heals this fast.
I saw my leg, I heard the doctors whisper when they thought I was asleep. “Ligament damage. Muscle tear. Limited mobility, if any.” Their words, not mine.
My head spins, half expecting the pain to catch up with me, to explode out of hiding. Nothing.
Without thinking, I slide my foot to the floor, putting weight on it. I reach for the crutches then stop myself.Do I need them?
“Holy pitfire,” I whisper.
I can walk.I step, slowly, then practically dance, toward the kitchen, still waiting for the pain to hit, like maybe it’s hiding behind a corner.
I’m grinning like a madwoman when Jax’s voice lifts my gaze.
“Coffee’s fresh. Got you a?—”
He stops mid-sentence. His whole body stiffens. “Where are your crutches?”
I open my mouth, realize I don’t have an answer, then settle on: “I… don’t think I need them anymore.”
He rushes toward me. “Fucking hell. You used them for one day. Of course you need them, you shouldn’t put your weight on it—your brace—what are you?—”
“No, Jax, look!” I lift my uninjured leg and balance easily on the healing one.
Jax St. Clair looks like he’s about to faint. Never thought I would see this look on his face.
He steps in, like he thinks I’m playing some elaborate prank. He lowers to a crouch in front of me and lays a hand on my leg, like he needs to feel the truth for himself. “Does it hurt when I do this?”
I shake my head, grinning so wide my cheeks ache. “No.”
“This?”
Another shake. I’m laughing now. I can’t help it. “Still no.”
He laughs loudly too. A wild, unhinged sound that makes his whole face light up with disbelief and joy. He grabs my waist and lifts me off the ground with one arm and spins me toward the couch, but he’s moving so fast we nearly crash into the wall.
“Jax!” I scream-laugh, clinging to his shoulders.
“Had to make sure you weren’t faking it,” he grins, setting me down gently on the cushions. He crouches again, fingertips brushing my leg brace.
“This is… You could barely—” he starts, voice cracking with emotion.
“Impossible?” I finish, my smile faltering under his gaze. “I just woke up and the pain was gone!”
He stands abruptly, running both hands through his hair, a gesture that looks more like frustration than celebration. He comes back quickly and kisses me—hard and desperate, like he’s trying to convince himself this is real. Then again, slower, deeper, like he’s memorizing this moment.
“We should go see my father,” he says, pulling back slightly, eyes wide with wonder. “Right now. Let him take a look.”
I nod, grinning. “Yeah. Probably a good idea.”
He kisses me again.
“What were you saying a second ago? You got me something?”
