"Jaxson, you're alive," I breathed, the sheer force of the relief making my head light. The sterile white of the hospital room seemed to soften into a glow. He looked exactly as he did in the morning light of the penthouse, strong, radiant, his NBA jersey hanging loosely off his broad shoulders. "I knew they were lying. I knew you wouldn't leave me."I tried to reach for him, my fingers straining against the IV tape, desperate to touch the solid warmth of his skin. I wanted to tell him about the nightmare I’d just had, the burning planes and the freeway pileups. I wanted to apologize until my lungs gave out."I'm going to France now, Val," he said, his voice sounding thin, like it was being carried over a long-distance line with a bad connection. He didn't move toward the bed. He stayed by the door, his smile fixed and unchanging. "You told me not to come back.""No, Jax! I didn't mean it! Stay, please, just stay..."I lunged forward, but my hands didn't meet flesh. They met cold, emp
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