His Promise, My Shattered World

Jax showed up at the hospital the next day. I was propped up in bed, my leg in a heavy cast, a throbbing ache radiating from my collarbone. "Hey," he said, lingering awkwardly by the door. He looked tired, a little guilty maybe. I kept my face neutral. "What do you want, Jax?" "Ben told me what happened. That you were hurt. Chloe felt terrible." Chloe. Of course. "I'm fine," I said, my voice flat. I didn't want his pity, or Chloe's. I tried to shift, to hide the Florence travel brochures I'd been looking at on my bedside table. He noticed the movement. His eyes narrowed. "What are you hiding?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his tone. "More fan art?" He thought I was still that obsessed kid. Maybe he always would. "It's nothing," I said. "Chloe asked me to check on you," he said, as if that explained his presence. "She's worried about, you know, lawsuits. The loft owner is a friend of her dad's." So, this wasn't about me. It was damage control. My heart, already bruised, felt another dull throb. "Tell Chloe not to worry. I'm not suing anyone." I kept my voice cold, distant. I wanted him gone. He shifted uncomfortably. "Look, Savvy, about the party..." "It's forgotten," I cut him off. He seemed surprised by my coldness. Then, a flicker of something else. "You need anything? Water? Help with the... pillows?" It was a reluctant offer, almost forced. "I'm fine," I repeated. But the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through my leg. I winced. He stepped forward. "Here, let me." "I don't need your help, Jax." He ignored me, reaching for the pillows behind my head. His fingers brushed my hair. For a second, it was like old times, a phantom echo of the boy who' d given me a guitar pick. Then Chloe walked in. "Jax, darling? Oh, Savvy, you're awake." She glided to his side, possessively tucking her arm through his. Jax immediately straightened up, moving away from me as if I were contagious. "Chloe was just worried," he said, his voice instantly warmer, softer, for her. The sudden shift in his attention, his complete abandonment of me mid-gesture, made me lose my balance as I tried to readjust myself. My injured leg twisted. A sharp cry escaped my lips. Pain, white-hot, shot up my thigh. Chloe tutted. "Oh, dear. Clumsy. Jax, maybe you should help her properly." Her concern was paper-thin. Jax looked torn for a split second, his eyes darting between me and Chloe. Then he shook his head. "Nah, I can't. We're, you know, engaged. Wouldn't look right, me fussing over another girl. Especially with the wedding so soon." He actually said that. Publicly. My jaw tightened. The humiliation was a fresh wave. Chloe smiled sweetly at me. "He's just being proper, sweetie. Old-fashioned. He wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong idea, especially after your... well, your little crush." Her eyes gleamed with a triumph that made me sick. I looked straight at her, then at Jax. "Don't worry about wrong ideas, Chloe. I'm perfectly aware of your... relationship. And frankly, I don't care anymore." Just then, a nurse bustled in, her bright scrubs a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere. "Alright, Miss Miller, doctor's orders. A little change of scenery. The sunroom is lovely this time of day. It'll do you good." The idea of escaping the claustrophobic room, of getting away from them, was a lifeline. "Yes, please." Chloe seized the opportunity, her voice dripping with false concern. "Oh, what a wonderful idea! We'll come with you, won't we, Jax? Make sure she's settled in comfortably." I didn't have the energy to protest as the nurse helped me into a wheelchair. Jax and Chloe followed us out of the room and down the hall, their presence a heavy weight behind me. The path to the sunroom led through the main lobby, a large, airy space with a ridiculously ornate decorative fountain gurgling in the center. The floor around it was slick with moisture. As we passed it, Chloe stopped, blocking my path. She opened her mouth, maybe to deliver another patronizing line, maybe even to let slip more of their "plan." She took a step back, gesturing animatedly, and her heel caught on the uneven edge of a wet floor tile. She yelped, arms flailing, and then she was falling. Right into the decorative fountain. Splash. Jax whirled around. "Chloe!" He hauled her out, dripping and sputtering. Then he turned on me, his face a mask of fury. I was still in the wheelchair, helpless. "What did you do?" he snarled, advancing. "Me? I didn't do anything!" "You tripped her! You're jealous, you psycho!" He was actually accusing me. After everything. And then, he did something I never thought Jax, my Jax, the boy who saved me from falling equipment, would ever do. He shoved me. Hard. Not my body, but the wheelchair itself. He grabbed the handles and violently pushed. The chair shot backwards, unbalanced. My good leg slipped on the wet tiles from Chloe's splash as I tried to regain control. The wheelchair tipped, and I was falling too, into the cold, shallow water of the fountain. The shock stole my breath. My casted leg hit the bottom with a jarring thud. Pain, again. Overwhelming. Jax stood over me, glaring, his chest heaving. Chloe was clinging to him, looking shocked but also strangely satisfied. "You ever, EVER, touch her or try anything with her again," Jax growled, his voice dangerously low, "and I'll make you regret the day you were born, Savvy Miller. Stay away from us." I couldn't swim with the heavy cast. I couldn't even get my footing in the tipped wheelchair. I was floundering, water filling my mouth, my wound near my collarbone stinging fiercely. I saw red bloom in the water around my white cast. My blood. He was going to let me drown.