Chapter 13
“ Y ou were a mark I was supposed to make disappear.” Jax holds my gaze, unflinching, as I feel the weight of his words sink in.
He was supposed to kill me?
“The job didn’t come with a picture, and it paid a shitload of money, so I took it. I knew the time and place. I knew the signal—a cupcake with a sparkler on the table,” he says, his voice soft, almost pained.
A gasp escapes my mouth.
I remember that day. My birthday.
My father was supposed to meet me. He made yet another promise he never planned on keeping. That was the day I decided I was done with him—and the day I met Jax.
“You were alone, staring down at that cupcake like the loneliest woman in the world,” he continues, shaking his head. A crease forms between his eyes, the memory haunting him. “I couldn’t do anything but keep watching you, getting angrier by the second that someone would put a hit out on an angel.”
He rubs his knuckle gently along my cheek—a tenderness I wasn’t expecting.
“I fell in love with you from that single look. I knew I couldn’t let you get away. Someone else would just pick up the next hit and finish the job. So, I…” His voice trails off as he steps closer, one arm low on my back and the other cradling my jaw. “I went after you. Followed you into a few stores and then pretended to bump into you.”
This was the part of our love story we always joked about. A bottle of red wine was in that bag, and it busted. It splashed up the front of my white sundress, and I looked like Carrie when the bucket of pig’s blood was poured on her. We both just stood there in shock for a few seconds until I busted out laughing.
He took me to dinner to “make amends,” and it ended up being the best birthday I ever had.
My mouth twitches at the memory, but the sadness creeps in again.
“I found out who you were after that, but I was already too gone for you. I tracked down anyone I could find associated with the hit and buried them. But I never found out which boss was behind it, and you never told me about your father.”
Regret drips from his voice as he closes his eyes, like he’s replaying every moment and thinking of what he would’ve done differently.
I run my hands up his arms, feeling his warmth, then around his shoulders to circle his neck. He breathes me in like I’m his lifeline.
“Now I know, you were never hiding anything. You just had no idea.” He rubs his nose against mine for a moment, then pulls back to meet my eyes. “When they cuffed me and pulled me away from you, I never hated myself more for keeping this part of my life from you. I couldn’t breathe thinking something could happen to you while I was locked up.”
A darkness fills his gaze, a reminder of everything that could have gone wrong.
“So, what did you do?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I called an old flame.”
He chuckles when he sees my face fall in irritation at the mention of a former lover. “He wasn’t part of a family, but he was an associate, like me. If something had a hint of a digital footprint, he could erase it, fabricate it, change it—anything. I called Luca.”
My chin quivers, but I swallow my emotions.
“I begged him to watch the woman I love for me. To keep her safe. Oh, Peach…” He rests his forehead on mine and breathes deeply. “I just had no idea he loved you before I did.”
“Jax.”
He silences me with a kiss. “You have no idea how much our whole fucking world revolves around you, baby. Just talk to him. Please? For me?”
He cradles my face with one hand, the other clutching my tights, pulling me tightly into him. I whimper, wanting him to devour me, to make all of this go away.
“I can only tell you my side of the story, Peach. They have to tell you theirs.”
I close my eyes, nodding. Jax exhales in relief and kisses my forehead. “Good girl.”
His lips brush against mine, and I feel him smile, knowing he’s about to lighten the mood with a teasing jab.
“What?” I grumble, bracing myself for whatever he’s about to say.
“Just leave the attitude next time, little cum-dumpster.”
I snort. It’s loud, unflattering, but it escapes me anyway. And just like that, Jax does what he does best—he breaks the tension.
I take a step back, one eyebrow cocked. I grab the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head, and drop it to the floor. “You know the best way to make me drop my attitude is to fuck it out of me.”
M y feet barely touch the ground as I walk through the dark, a chill creeping into my bones. The world around me is blurry, distorted, as if my mind is struggling to hold onto pieces of a memory I’ve locked away for so long.
I find myself looking into the reflection of the tall windows in the hallway, staring at that same little girl who waits at a table for a cup of hot chocolate—eyes wide and scared, breaths shallow, like the air has been sucked out of the room.
But the reflection isn’t exactly right. The little girl isn’t just looking at herself. She’s walking, watching herself move toward something, her tiny legs unsteady, her body tense.
I know this is the same night. Something in me, deep down, knows it.
It’s as if I’m aware of it in the dream. The little girl knows if she moves too quickly or makes noise, the dream will end, and we won’t know what happens. It’s as though she knows that I’ll wake up, and she’ll be left there alone—and that is the one thing she doesn’t want.
I don’t look away from the reflection as sound begins to fill the dream. Where there was silence before, yelling splits the stillness—sharp and guttural. A woman’s voice. I don’t recognize it at first, but I try to listen, try to lock onto it like a beacon in the darkness.
But the more I focus, the more muffled and distant it becomes, slipping away from me as if it doesn’t want to be heard.
And then there is a second voice. One I know so well, one that has haunted me since childhood—it rings out. My father.
“You made me do this. You always make me do this,” his voice thunders, harsh and cold, like a storm rolling in. He’s not angry like he used to be, but his words are laced with venom. I flinch, feeling the sting of every word, every breath he takes.
Then a sharp crack against skin—too real, too close. I flinch again, the sound landing on my cheek as if the slap was for me. The little ghost in the reflection—me—stops walking. Stops breathing. Just keeps looking at herself.
It’s like I’m not alone and scared. It almost feels as if someone is here with me, and it feels safer. But in truth, that little girl in the reflection was all alone that night—and she was terrified.
Another slap.
A cry out.
And I flinch again, my small hand rising to my cheek like it’s my face being struck. With each blow, my heart races, my throat tightens. The world is spinning faster now. I can’t look away from the little girl I once was—her wide, terrified eyes locked on a reflection that doesn’t answer her.
Around me, the air seems to ripple, like the still surface of a lake disturbed. I’m waking up.
She breathes faster, tears welling in her large, round eyes. The fear is about to win, and she’s about to cry out. She’s scared to. She knows what happens when she does.
Just as she opens her mouth to scream, everything fades into the background, and the memory blurs into nothing. My hands reach for something to hold onto, but there’s nothing left to catch. My eyes pop open, and I release a breath as if I’ve held it this entire time.
The room is dark. I blink, disoriented, my chest heaving with the remnants of the dream. My hands are shaking, and I’m sweating despite the cool air in the room.
I turn my head and see Jax beside me, his steady breathing the only thing that anchors me back to reality. His arm is draped around me, his warmth surrounding me like a shield.
I exhale slowly, trying to steady myself, forcing the remnants of the dream away. That must’ve been before the hot chocolate.
My father and mother… they were fighting.
And he was—beating her.
When it was over, when the damage was done, he gave me a cup of hot chocolate. His apology. His attempt to make me forget what I had heard, what I had witnessed. A fucking cup of hot chocolate, as if that could erase the violence that just unfolded in the presence of an innocent child.
But nothing could erase that. Not the way he’d sounded when he yelled. Not the feel of the slap echoing in my ears.
The truth of it makes me close my eyes in… I’m not sure what emotion I’m feeling. Shame? Shame for her—that she was abused by her husband and had to walk around like nothing was happening?
Or is it sorrow because I erased these memories from my mind? Blocked them out, and now it’s like that woman suffered alone. Her husband and her daughter were the only witnesses to her suffering. Her abuser is dead, and her daughter forgot. Now her pain is nothing more than a ghost that whispers in the broken crevices of my mind.
I press my hand to my mouth to stifle the sobs threatening to break free. Jax’s body stirs against mine, his hand tightening around me like he’s sensing my distress.
I turn into Jax and nuzzle against him. The arm around me hugs tighter, and he shifts his leg over mine. I soak in the warmth of him, his comforting smell, and the strength of his hold.
I let it chase away the memory of the night that sends a shiver down my spine.
I don’t want to think about that man—that monster. I don’t want to think about the father who once made me feel like his treasure, only to break me when I saw him for who he truly was.
As I lie in Jax’s arms, a prisoner of my own memories, I push them back. I build my walls a little higher. The humor that I hide behind, the stubbornness that I pretend protects me from pain—I fortify myself with them so when I wake in the morning, no one will be able to see the truth that’s hidden away within me.