Chapter 22
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Iwake up with the sun streaming in through the windows, hot against my face. But it’s the warmth I feel elsewhere that makes me open my eyes.
As if he could hear my thoughts last night, Jax is curled up against me, with a muscled arm wrapped around my waste, his rose-tattooed hand holding onto me as if he is afraid to let go.
I shift slowly, and the motion causes him to stir.
“Good morning, love,” he says, his voice gravelly.
“Am I still being held captive?”
He has the audacity to laugh under his breath, answering me with a yes.
“Then it’s not a good morning,” I say halfheartedly.
He gives a proper laugh in response. “I like it when you’re fiery,” he says. “But tell me, is there anything I can do to make it a good morning?”
I know what he’s insinuating, and with what I’ve been through the past few days, I know the last thing I should want is him. But my curiosity peaks regardless, and I stretch before rolling over towards him, allowing us to face each other.
A sudden intake of breath is all I can manage when I see his face.
His lip has been split, the wound covered in crusted blood, and his eyebrow looks eerily similar with a deep cut stopping just before his eye. A purple bruise stands out against his jawline, and I instinctively reach out to him, gently touching the side of his face.
“What the hell happened to you?” Concern laces my voice.
“First,” he says, his eyes searching for mine, “I want to know how you’re doing.”
His eyes look me up and down, as if looking for clues about my mental and physical state.
“I think I’m doing okay.”
He cocks an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
“I’m okay, truly. I’m a little clammy and a little nauseous but I’m sure it will get worse before it gets better.” His silence encourages me to keep talking. “I had a lot of time to think last night, and paint—thank you for that,” I continue slowly. “I don’t think you were right, but I don’t think I was either… I guess what I’m trying to say is I see where you’re coming from, and I see why you wanted me to stay with Ryan or you. And I made a mess of this.” Tears well behind my eyes. “I truly made a mess of this. I didn’t want to go back to Rhett, I mean, I did, but not really… God, I’m making a mess of this.” I repeat to myself as an irritated sigh leaves me. Jax’s hand moves towards me, his warm touch comforting against my skin.
I take a deep breath before looking at him again. “What I’m trying to say is that I know I made some stupid choices and all of this.” I gesture vaguely. “Has been a lot to deal with. I guess I didn’t know how much I was in over my head until you left with those baggies in your pocket and a part of me wanted to follow you just to get them back. To cling onto the happiness they provided me.” Shame washes over me at the confession and I search Jax’s eyes with my own, waiting for a look of judgment or disgust to take hold of his features. But it never does. Instead, he pulls me into him, kissing me softly. I press myself into him further, always wanting everything he’s willing to give me, but stop as I feel him wince beneath the touch of our lips.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked apologetically. “You look like you got chewed up and spat out.”
“Royce put up more of a fight than I thought he would.”
I look at Jax, hoping for some inclination that he’s joking, and he hadn’t actually done anything to Royce.
“What did you do?”
“I don’t think you want to know,” he says, his eyes now searching mine.
I take a deep breath, wondering if this is how it will always be with Jax, a constant balancing act between his lifestyle and mine. I know sheltering me from what he does is just another way for him to protect me, but if we’re going to do this, try to make whatever this is between us last, then there is no way I’m going to continue to be in the dark about everything.
“I’m either all in or all out Jax Turner. You choose. You either start treating me like someone who’s your equal and worthy of knowing what it is you do, or I’m out. I’m not some little doll to be left locked up in a room… I’m not so sensitive that I can’t handle the truth. So, choose. All in, or nothing.”
Jax stares at me quietly before cupping my face in his hands.
“You are not my equal, love,” he starts, pressing a finger to my lips as I try to interject, the rage within me building quickly. “You are far, far superior to me, and if I ever let you forget it, then remind me to get on my knees and worship you until you remember.”
My breath hitches, my anger dissipating instantaneously in response to his words, and I can’t help but want him even though I know I shouldn’t.
“So,” he continues, “since all out will never be an option with me, love, you’re all in. I killed Royce Collins this morning. And before you ask, yes, he deserved it.”
My feelings of lust and desire are short-lived, quickly replaced by shock, and I swallow the bile that starts to rise in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest as the reality of his words start to sink in.
“You …”
“Killed Royce Collins. And before you get mad at me again, I didn’t do it because of what happened between the two of you.”
I should be yelling and angry at what he did, disgusted by his actions and recoiling as shock overwhelms me. But for some reason I’m not, and instead I’m surprisingly calm in response to his confession. I swallow the bile in my throat and instead all I do is raise an eyebrow, a silent invitation for him to continue talking, as I am going to need a lot more information than that.
“We looked into him,” he continues, a coldness to his voice, “and I’ll spare you the details of what Ryan and I found, but let’s just say the individuals Royce spent his time with were younger than you… a lot younger.”
A pit forms in my stomach as the reality of what Jax says hits me. Did Royce never stop pursuing young girls after all these years? My stomach churns at the thought.
Jax nods, as if reading my mind.
“I think we have a lot to talk about if we’re going to be all in. If we’re going to make this work. Don’t get me wrong, I want it to, but I need to know more about you. More about what you’re doing. No more of this finding-out-after-it-happened bullshit,” I say firmly, ready for an argument.
“Okay,” he says calmly.
“Okay? You’re just completely okay with everything I want?”
“Like I said, love, I am so lost in you that it doesn’t take much for you to convince me of anything.”
I lay here speechless, unsure of what to say, completely thrown off by his compliance and understanding, and completely caught off guard by his confession mere moments ago. It seems like I always want more from him, and yet here he is, always willing to give it to me, for the most part.
So, we talk. We talk until our voices become hoarse and exhaustion sweeps us away, falling asleep only to wake up and continue where we left off.