Aria’s heart gave a quiet thud. “What is it, Evelyn?”
Nan studied her for a long moment—eyes searching, gentle but unflinching.
“He’s so strong, isn’t he? Always joking, always making everyone else laugh. Even now, with me like this, he’s makeing wisecracksabout the nurses’ terrible coffee. But I know what it costs him. He credits me with being there for him after his parents—after my daughter died, then my son-in-law—but the truth is, he was there for me too. Thirteen years old and already trying to make me smile when I was drowning in grief. Sad, yes, but never broken. Always the jokester. Always the one making everyone else feel special. Even when he was hurting the most.”
Nan’s thumb stroked the back of Aria’s hand—slow, deliberate.
“I’m not sure what’s going on between you two. Not all of it. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he softens when you’re near. So I need to know, love—do you love my grandson?”
The question landed soft but heavy. Aria felt her throat close. No point pretending. Not here. Not with Nan.
“Yes,” she whispered. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.”
Nan’s eyes filled—tears gathering but not falling. She squeezed Aria’s hand with surprising strength.
“Then don’t waste a moment,” she said. “Life is too short. I’m proof of that. Tell him. Soon. Before you run out of soon.”
Aria nodded, tears pricking her own eyes. “I promise.”
Nan exhaled—a small, satisfied sound. “Good girl.”
The door opened. Jax stepped back in, carrying two fresh cups of tea he’d clearly fetched as an excuse. He looked between them—suspicious, fond.
“Everything alright?”
Aria stood, brushing a quick kiss to Nan’s forehead. “Everything’s perfect. I just need to step out and make a call to my manager. They’ve been asking about the album tour dates. Ineed to let them know I can’t commit to anything until at least the new year. Not until we know more.”
Jax’s eyes softened—grateful, relieved. “Take your time.”
She squeezed his arm as she passed, then slipped out into the corridor.
The call to Robert was short. She kept her voice steady, professional. Explained the situation without detail.Robert was quiet for a moment, then said simply, “Family first. We’ll hold the schedule. Take care of yourself. And him.”
She ended the call, leaned against the wall for a long minute, breathing. Then she headed back to the flat alone.
That night she went to bed early—exhausted in a bone-deep way. She slipped under the covers, left the hall light on the way Nan always had. Sleep came fast.
Later—much later—she felt the mattress dip. Jax slid in behind her, careful not to wake her. He curled around her back, one arm slipping around her waist, face tucking into her hair. She stirred just enough to know he was there, then drifted deeper.
???
Jax
He waited until her breathing evened out again—slow, soft, trusting—before he let himself settle.
The room was dark except for the faint glow of moonlight through the curtains. Aria lay on her side, one hand curled under her cheek, hair spilling across the pillow. He watched her for a long time—chest rising and falling, lashes dark against hercheeks, mouth slightly parted in sleep. His heart felt too full, too tender, like it might crack open if he breathed too deeply.
Nan had pulled him aside that afternoon, after Aria left to make her call. She’d waited until the nurse stepped out, then fixed him with that look she used when she wanted him to really listen.
“I needed to know you weren’t going to be alone,” she’d said quietly. “When I’m gone.”
Jax had opened his mouth to protest—habit, reflex—but she’d shaken her head.
“I knew Aria was the one when she came for Christmas. I’ve never seen you light up around anyone the way you do around her. Not even on the podium. Not even when you won the championship. You soften around her, Jaxon. You let yourself be soft. That’s precious.”
She’d reached for his hand—weak but insistent.
“Promise me something. No more playing the hero. No more trying to protect everyone else by carrying it all alone. Be honest. Let her in. Let her carry some of it with you.”
