Maxwell’s POV
I found my way to the ICU floor, my heart pounding, my palms sweating.
And there she was.
Olivia.
Standing outside one of the rooms, her face pressed against the transparent window, looking in at what I assumed was her father.
She was wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Her hair was a mess. She looked exhausted and hollow and completely broken.
She was completely still. Like a statue. Like she’d been standing there for hours and might stand there for hours more.
Everything in me wanted to go to her. To hold her. To tell her I was here and I wasn’t leaving.
But I could still hear her words from last night: I don’t want you anywhere near my family right now.
So I turned away and looked for Kennedy instead.
I found him in a small waiting area down the hall, sitting between his mother and Kira.
Mrs. Hopton’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. Kira had her arm around Kennedy’s shoulders, whispering something to him.
"Mrs. Hopton," I said quietly as I approached. "I’m so sorry. I’m..."
She looked up at me, and the pain in her eyes nearly brought me to my knees.
Then she looked away. Deliberately. Completely.
Like I wasn’t even there.
The rejection hit me like a physical blow, but I understood it. I deserved it.
"Kennedy," I said, my voice rough. "Can I talk to you?"
He exchanged a look with Kira, then stood and followed me a little ways down the hall where we could have some privacy.
"How is he?" I asked, though I was almost afraid to hear the answer.
Kennedy ran his hand over his face, and I could see how exhausted he was. How much this was destroying him.
"He made it through the night," Kennedy said, and for a moment hope flared in my chest. "They got him stabilized. Did surgery to repair the damage."
"But?"
There was always a ’but.’
Kennedy’s jaw tightened. "He’s in a coma, Maxwell. The doctors say there’s brain activity, which is good. But they don’t know when - or if - he’ll wake up. Could be days. Could be weeks. Could be..." He couldn’t finish the sentence.
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of that crushing down on me.
"I’m so sorry," I said. "Kennedy, I’m so sorry."
"I know."
We stood in silence for a moment.
"Did they catch him?" I forced myself to ask. "My father. Did the police..."
"No." Kennedy’s voice hardened. "He was gone by the time I got there. Police arrived maybe ten minutes after me, but..." He spread his hands helplessly. "He’d already fled. They’re looking for him, but so far nothing."
Of course. My father had managed to fake his own death and stay hidden for years. Finding him now would be nearly impossible.
Unless I did it myself.
"I’m going to find him," I said, the words coming out with absolute certainty. "I’m going to hunt him down and make sure he never hurts anyone ever again."
Kennedy looked at me, really looked at me, and I saw exhaustion and grief and something that might have been understanding.
"And then what?" he asked quietly.
I looked down the hall toward where Olivia still stood at her father’s window, unmoving, and felt something break inside my chest.
"Then I stay out of your family’s life," I said, the words tasting like acid in my mouth. "For good. You all deserve better than the chaos I bring. The danger. The..."
I broke off, my throat tight.
"Olivia deserves better," I finished quietly. "She deserves peace. A life without constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering if my psychotic father is going to show up and try to kill someone she loves. She’s carrying my baby, and I want..." My voice cracked. "I want her to be able to carry that baby to term without all this stress and fear. I want her to be happy."
"Even if that happiness doesn’t include you?" Kennedy asked.
"Especially if it doesn’t include me," I said.
Because that’s what love was, wasn’t it?
Wanting someone to be happy even if their happiness meant your own destruction.
Kennedy was quiet for a long moment, then he nodded slowly.
"For what it’s worth," he said, "I don’t blame you for this. What your father did - that’s on him, not you."
The words should have been comforting. But they just made me feel worse.
"Your mother doesn’t feel the same way," I observed.
"My mother is grieving," Kennedy said. "She’s terrified she’s going to lose her husband. Give her time."
But I knew there wasn’t enough time in the world to make Mrs. Hopton forget that my family had caused hers chaos.
Again.
"Take care of her," I said to Kennedy, looking back at Olivia one more time. "Please. Make sure she eats. Make sure she rests. Make sure she takes care of herself and the baby."
Kennedy nodded. "I will. You have my word."
"Thank you."
I took one last long look at Olivia - memorizing her every curve, the way her hair fell down her back, the way she stood like she could will her father awake through sheer force of presence.
I love you, I thought. I love you so much it’s destroying me.
But I love you enough to let you go.
Then I turned and walked away.
Past Kennedy. Past his mother who still wouldn’t look at me. Past Kira who watched me with an expression I couldn’t read.
Down the hall. Into the elevator. Out of the hospital.
Into my car.
And as I drove away from the hospital, from the Hoptons, from Olivia, I made myself a promise.
I would find my father. I would stop him. Even if it meant killing him myself.
And then I would disappear from Olivia’s life completely.
Give her the peace she deserved. The happiness she’d earned.
Even if it destroyed me.
Because her wellbeing - hers and our baby’s - was more important than my own broken heart.
I love you, Olivia, I thought as the hospital disappeared in my rearview mirror. I love you enough to let you go.
I just hope someday you’ll understand why.