“To say no?”

“Yeah, we talked about this before. Everyone wants me to just move on, and I can’t. They tell me that nothing has to change, that Jaxon’s a perfectly good replacement—”

“Jaxon?” My whole body tightens up at the mention of his name linked with hers. She can’t be serious…can she?

“I know. It’s absurd. He and Hudson are nothing alike. And I don’t care about politics or family dynasties even if he does. I just want Hudson back.”

I’m reeling under the news that she and Jaxon are supposed to be together—and the implication that he’s willing to go along with it. But she looks so small when she says it, so exposed, that my heart twists for her.

Besides, it doesn’t make sense. Not with the way he held me earlier. Not with the way he kissed me. He didn’t do either of those things like a guy who had another girl on his mind. He did them like a guy who was as desperate for me as I was for him.

Yeah, he tried to take it back on the stairs a few minutes ago, but you can’t just take something like that back. Not when I’ve never felt anything close to it before in my whole life, and I would swear he never had, either.

So what’s all this about, then? What’s Lia getting at? And why is she talking about it to me, of all people?

I don’t have answers to those questions and, more than likely, I’m not going to find them standing in the middle of the dorm hallway. Especially not when the combination of sedative and blood loss is still fogging up my brain, making me feel like half my body isn’t even here.

On the plus side, we’re finally back at my and Macy’s room. I’m exhausted and more than ready to be back in my own bed. I’m also more than ready to be away from Lia, at least until I figure out if I’m being paranoid or if she’s trying to subtly warn me off Jaxon because she considers him hers.

If that is what she’s doing, it isn’t going to work. Not when I already feel this connection to Jaxon. It’s strange, I know, considering we’ve spent as much time sniping at each other as we have talking, but the more time I spend with him, the more time I want to spend. Like there’s something pushing me toward him, making me want him. There’s not a chance her subtle little speech about how everyone wants her and Jaxon to be together because of family reasons is going to change that.

I reach up to knock—I was in such a hurry to get to the incredible disappearing Jaxon Vega that I forgot my key—but the door flies open before my fist can so much as touch the wood.

“There you are!” Macy exclaims. “I was just about to come looking—”

She breaks off when she sees Lia standing behind me. “Oh, hi, Lia.” She nervously smooths her hair down. “How are you?”

“Good,” Lia tells her dismissively before turning back to me with a concerned look on her face. “Rest up, okay, Grace? I’ll come by to check on you tomorrow. Bring you a special blend of tea that will help you feel better faster.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I cross through the beaded curtain into my room. “But I appreciate you walking me back. Thanks.”

“Of course. And the tea is no bother.” She smiles sweetly. “Get some rest.”

“I will. Thanks.” I don’t bother to smile.

“Thanks for bringing her back. I appreciate it,” Macy tells her with a grateful smile that gets my back up.

Lia ignores her. “I can bring the tea by now if you want it, Grace.”

“I’m good.” I wave a dismissive hand at her as I flop down on my bed. “I think I’m just going to sleep.”

To prove my point, I lie down on my freshly made bed (again) and turn so I’m facing the wall, my back to the door—and Lia. I know it’s rude, but right now, I don’t actually care. I’m so done with this conversation, and for the moment, I’m done with Lia, too. Not just because of the Jaxon thing but because I really don’t like how she treats Macy. I can’t stand how abrupt she is with her, like my cousin is some annoying puppy nipping at her shoes.

There’s some soft murmuring from the door—my cousin apologizing to Lia for my churlish behavior, I’m sure—and then the door closes softly.

I roll over right away, and as I do, I come face-to-face with the bag of cookies and fresh glass of juice Macy has put on my nightstand.

“You really are the best cousin in the world,” I tell her as I sit up. “You know that, right?”

“I do,” she agrees, settling down on the bed next to me. “How are you feeling?”

“The truth?”

“Always.”

“Awful. I should have listened to you.” But it’s ridiculous. And I hate it. All I did was run down the hall after Jaxon, and my body feels weak, exhausted.

“No shit.” She reaches for the glass of juice and holds it out to me. “Drink up, buttercup.”

For the first time, I can’t help thinking about how much blood I must have actually lost.

It’s that thought that has me taking the glass from her and downing the juice in a couple of swallows. It’s what also has me eating a cookie even though my stomach is roiling and food is the last thing I want.

Macy watches me like a hawk, then smiles her approval when I manage to choke down a second cookie as well as a glass of water. Only then does she ask, “So are you going to tell me how you left here chasing Jaxon and came back with Lia?”

“Not much to tell. Jaxon did what he always does.”

“And what’s that?”

“He disappeared.”

Macy nods. “Yeah.”

I think about the look on Jaxon’s face when I was trying to talk to him at the top of the stairs, then I think about what Lia just let “slip.”

I think about the way Jaxon has managed to help me every time something bad happens to me. And I think about how he finds it so easy to walk away, time and time again.

It’s enough to have my already addled brain begging for mercy.

“We should get some sleep,” Macy says and, for the first time, I realize she’s already in her pajamas. “It’s after two.”

“It’s really that late? How long was I out?”

“Long enough.” She gives me a hug before crawling off my bed. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk more about the ins and outs of Jaxon Vega’s brain tomorrow.”

I nod and try to do as she suggests. But I can’t stop thinking about how late it is. And about how much time I’ve lost. I must have been out a lot longer than I thought if it’s really—I pick up my phone to check the time—2:31 in the morning.