Chapter 2

Without a second of hesitation, Jaxson grabbed Mirelle's wrist and yanked her securely behind him.

He stood between us, glaring at me with the guarded intensity of a man protecting the love of his life from a dangerous predator.

"Mirelle just speaks her mind. Don't mind her," he warned, his tone laced with ice.

The stinging heat blooming across my cheek was nothing compared to the gaping hole tearing open in my chest.

Thinking back to the conversation I had just overheard, the reality of the situation crashed over me.

The amnesia was a rehearsed performance, but the indifference in his eyes? That was real.

I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers and booked a red-eye flight out of the city. I looked Jaxson dead in the eye, my voice stripped of all its desperate affection.

"Don't worry," I said. "I won't ever bother you again."

If Jaxson Cross wanted to play dead, I was going to bury him.

The next morning, my luggage was packed and waiting by the hotel room door. I was slipping on my trench coat when my cell phone vibrated against the nightstand.

It was my father-in-law, Torin.

"Bryndis," Torin gasped out, his voice bypassing its usual commanding Wall Street baritone. He sounded fractured, older than his years.

"Elowen collapsed. Massive cardiac event. She's in the ICU ward, and it's… it's bad, sweetheart. She keeps deliriously calling out Jaxson's name."

My grip on the phone tightened so hard my knuckles turned white.

"Torin, I'm so sorry..."

"Bryndis, I have to ask you," he choked on a sob. "Are you certain the man you found isn't our son? I don't know if Elowen is going to make it through the night, and she just wants to see her boy one last time."

A painful lump formed in my throat. I couldn't do this to them. I couldn't let Elowen die believing her son was dead when he was fine.

"I'll handle it, Torin," I swallowed hard, grabbing my rental car keys.

Thirty minutes later, I was hammering my fist against the door.

The door swung open, and Jaxson's irritated scowl deepened the second he saw me.

Before he could spout another scripted line about not knowing me, I shoved my phone into his chest.

"Your mother just had a massive heart attack," I gritted out.

"She's in the ICU. She's dying, Jaxson, and she wants to see you one last time. Are you really going to keep up this repulsive act while she takes her last breath?"

The cool, detached stranger vanished, replaced by raw, undeniable panic.

Jaxson's hands shook as he gripped my phone.

He swiped the screen, about to initiate the FaceTime call to Torin, when a hand reached over his shoulder and slapped the phone right out of his grasp.

The device clattered against the porch floorboards.

Mirelle glared at me, leaning against the doorframe.

"Seriously? Are you psycho? Didn't you swear you wouldn't come back here to harass us?"

Jaxson's eyes darted between the phone on the ground and Mirelle's furious expression. He bent down to retrieve it, trying to manage the situation.

"Mirelle, babe, hold on, she said..." Jaxson stammered, catching my furious gaze before slipping back into his web of lies.

"She said her mother-in-law is dying. She wants me to... to pretend to be her dead husband, just over the phone, to comfort the old woman."

Mirelle let out a shrill, mocking laugh.

"Oh, please! 'Pretend to be her husband'?" She rolled her eyes theatrically.

"It's a trap, Jax! It's a pathetic trick to force you into validating her delusions. If you make that call for her, don't even think about sleeping in my bed tonight."

Jaxson froze. The threat of losing Mirelle's affection hung over him. He looked at the phone, then looked at Mirelle, and caved.

"Okay. Okay, babe, you're right. I won't call."

I stared at him, my stomach churning with revulsion.

"Jaxson, she gave birth to you," I spat, disgusted by his groveling.

"She cried until her eyes bled when the Coast Guard pulled off the search. You've been missing for three years, and you can't even spare five minutes to give her peace on her deathbed? This might literally be the last time you ever see her!"

Jaxson's shoulders stiffened. For a fraction of a second, his lips parted. He wanted to call. The guilt was eating at him.

But before he could speak, Mirelle stepped flush against his back. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands sliding brazenly under the hem of his t-shirt. She peered at me with wide, mockingly innocent eyes.

"Like I said, my boyfriend isn't your dead husband," Mirelle purred.

"Why would you force a stranger to lie to a dying woman? Besides, he isn't a cardiologist. A FaceTime call isn't going to magically cure a heart attack. Leave us alone."

She shot me a smirk and nudged Jaxson to close the door.

Jaxson hesitated for a split second, but Mirelle's restless hands were sliding provocatively beneath his shirt.

His distraction was immediate; he couldn't be bothered with me anymore.

Tossing out a hasty remark, he stepped back and let the door slam shut in my face.