Page 55 of Fallen Heir
He blended into the background on purpose, and I was thankful for that.
He was a breath of fresh air between headlines.
My shield without the noise.
And in these quiet, paparazzi-free moments…I was starting to forget Bruce.
But not Jaxson.
God, not Jaxson.
I hadn’t let myself think about that night since he left. Not really. Not while Ben was watching my every move or while reporters swarmed outside like they were waiting for a scandal.
But in the quiet—really quiet—I couldn’t stop replaying it.
The way he’d looked at me… like I was art. Like I was something worth learning—slowly, deliberately, with both hands and his whole damn soul.
It hadn’t just been sex.
It had been a claiming. A seeing. A promise I hadn’t asked for, but desperately wanted to believe.
And the next morning…He was still there.
Still holding me like I was his peace.
I’d never had that before. Not even once. And part of me hated that I missed him already.
The other part? The one that still had his touch memorized?
It wanted more.
There were hours now—whole days, even—where I didn’t jump at every knock or flinch at every text.
Where I didn’t check the locks three times or freeze when someone said his name.
I didn’t know if that meant I was healing.
Or if it just meant I felt safe with Jaxson and Ben around.
Whatever it was... it felt new. It felt like breathing after being underwater too long. And the weirdest part?
I was actually looking forward to tomorrow’s charity event.
I had a dress I hadn’t even ripped the tags off of yet. Shoes that didn’t pinch. A reason to walk into a room without feeling like I was being hunted.
It didn’t feel like survival anymore.
It felt like living.
My phone buzzed on the counter beside me.
Jaxson Westbrook:
Can’t wait to see the gown you have for tomorrow. You looked absolutely stunning in the last one.
My cheeks flushed instantly.Stunning.
God, why did that word feel like it carried weight when it came from him?
