Maxwell's POV
She opened her mouth to talk, but I beat her to it. I needed to assure her that she was safe now and free from harm .
"Olivia," I started, leaning forward, "I just want you to know that my father has been taken care of, and would never bother you again. Ever again. You have my word."
She nodded with a smile, but instead of acknowledging what I'd said, she voiced out in concern…
"How have you been?" She asked softly, and the simple question nearly undid me.
How had I been?
Miserable. Lost. Incomplete. Dying a little more each day without her.
"I'm fine," I lied, keeping my voice steady. "But I'm more worried about what brought you here. Is everything okay?"
She nodded. "Everything's fine. Dad's doing really well. The physical therapy is helping a lot."
"That's good," I said, genuine relief flooding through me. "I'm glad to hear it. And Kennedy? Is he doing okay?"
