Chapter 11 #2
“Thanks.” Once again, she was struck by the feeling of how nice it was to have someone share the responsibility. Having someone else around to talk to, to check things outside, and to restock firewood was something she could get used to.
“Don’t mention it,” he said, his body heat warming the air under the covers to a tolerable degree.
Minutes ticked by, and despite the exhaustion pulling at her muscles, questions fired through her brain. Jaxon’s thumb traced lazy circles on her shoulder.
“Are you awake?” she whispered.
His jaw moved against her forehead—a smile. “Mmm hmm.”
“What brought you to Whistlemore?”
His fingers didn’t stop moving on her shoulder, but for a moment he stopped breathing. She splayed her palm over his heart and waited.
“It’s a long story. Sleep might be more tempting.”
She shrugged. “I want to know more about you.”
He hugged her to his side. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.
” His voice grew soft and became heavy with emotion.
“I was sick of the city. Well, sick of my brother. Raf. He started selling drugs a few years ago. I did everything I could to help him, but he refused to get out of that lifestyle. I found him passed out with cocaine on his nose the day after we went to a meeting together.” He chortled without humor.
“He even tried to tell me he’d never done the stuff. ”
Tears stung her eyes. She didn’t have siblings but could imagine how hard it would be to watch a friend suffer. “That must have been really difficult, to see him like that.”
“Losing our relationship is the worst thing I’ve ever gone through.”
“So you left to get away from him?”
Jaxon let out a long, loose sigh. “More or less. I just couldn’t stop myself from wanting to believe him.
And the more involved I got, the angrier I got.
I realized I wasn’t able to help him—he saw nothing wrong with his career choice.
” His fingers continued to stir the skin on her shoulder.
“I told him that I love him and that he should call me when he’s truly done with that stuff. But until then, I need to be far away.”
“You left Boston just like that? What about your job?”
He guffawed. “I quit. You must think I’m crazy. I could’ve moved anywhere and gotten another job as a financial planner, but instead I came here.”
“Why? What made you think of Whistlemore?”
“I Googled ‘remote northern towns’ and it came up on the map. Quiet. Close to nature. Right in the mountains. At the time it was everything I wanted. I’ve always been athletic, and before I entered finances, I had experience as a carpenter so I applied with Star Mountain Home Builders.
I just wanted something to work off stress physically and release my mind, you know? ”
“Sounds reasonable. Have you talked to Raf since?”
His beard scratched her cheekbone as he shook his head. “No.” Guilt thickened his voice.
She squeezed her arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”
“He’s alive. I know that. My buddy Isaac is good friends with one of Raf’s friends. Isaac doesn’t tell me anything unless I ask, but I know he’d tell me if something happened to Raf.”
He flipped on his side, drawing her to his chest. Her head lay on his bicep and his fingers moved to her scalp to dance in lazy circles. “Sleep, babe,” he whispered in her ear.
His other arm folded over her midsection, anchoring her body and her heart to his.
Her chest ached. He’d been through so much.
Not having his brother in his life would cause more of a chasm than he knew.
But admiration swelled inside her. He’d put himself first knowing he might never see his brother again.
Not an easy decision to make. It proved Jaxon was an intuitive being who followed his gut to protect himself.
His breath blew steadily on her neck, and she closed her eyes and focused on the gentle rhythm.
It had been years since anyone held her like this.
Even longer since she’d wanted to be held like this.
Jaxon was slowly filling a void she hadn’t realized was there.
* * *
A chill blew over Jaxon’s cheek. He shivered and pulled McKenna’s body closer to his midsection, but even that didn’t warm him.
Heaviness clung to every inch of his body, keeping him glued to the bed.
Rekindling the fire was the only thing he could do to warm up and get back to sleep.
McKenna shivered, and a soft mewl sounded from her lips.
If he was cold, she was freezing.
He eased out of the bed and tucked the blankets around her before grabbing the flashlight and stalking to the living room.
Sure enough, the fire was out. He stacked the logs as best he could for longer burning time then struck a match, lighting the bark.
Once the fire had overtaken the logs, he stood and surveyed the cabin.
The thought of the intruder hit him. Fresh rage took over his body, forcing out any remnants of cold.
He kept the flashlight in hand, the glow on the floor, as he moved to the front door then the back, checking the locks.
The metal deadbolts hadn’t done a fucking thing, but this time, he’d be around to hear if the lock was picked.
He hovered near the window and inched the curtain away with his fingers.
Except for random snowflakes, the air was clear. For the first time in almost two days, he could see the sky, trees, and ground without obstruction. A thick strip of the moon hung above the pine trees, stars speckled the sky, and the treetops swayed, warning of the windchill.
He brought his attention to the sleek, soft lines of snow sloping through the backyard.
Now he could see the greenhouse nestled in the back corner of the lot, on the edge of the woods.
No footprints broke the snow. The intruder could have worn snowshoes, but he’d have to be fast at getting them on and off.
Then again, Jaxon and McKenna had been detained by Trevor for nearly ten minutes out front.
McKenna’s terror-filled eyes overtook his mind.
He clamped his teeth together. Acid bubbled in his stomach.
He’d do whatever necessary to make sure no one bothered McKenna again—which meant getting the truth out of Trevor first thing tomorrow.
The storm had passed. His bones confirmed that.
He’d make sure the bastard fucking with McKenna paid for what he’d done.
And if Jaxon had to spend a few nights in a cell to settle the score, so be it.
He made his way back to the bedroom, clicking the flashlight off in the hall.
The sight of McKenna’s graceful form beneath the blankets made him stop in his tracks.
She’d turned over since he left the room and now faced the door.
Her hand pillowed her cheek, her lips were parted in a half-moon shape, and her dark hair trailed over the white pillow.
Beautiful. Sweet. Everything good he’d ever wanted lay in the bed for him to hold. Then memories of finding his brother passed out, cocaine covering the tip of his nose, assaulted him. In that moment less than two years ago, he’d been filled with deep grief knowing he’d lost his brother.
He hadn’t told anyone in Whistlemore about Raf. He thought about his brother every day, and checked on him through Isaac periodically, but talking about it was a whole different ball game. One that had ripped open the sealed wounds all over again.
Raf had survived, gone to rehab, and relapsed.
His baby brother was dead to him. The pain Jaxon carried knowing he hadn’t been able to save him, hadn’t been able to keep him out of the clutches of drugs and money, clouded the back of his mind every day.
He’d failed Raf and had to leave to save himself.
He wouldn’t fail McKenna.
He lifted the covers and slid in next to her. She curled into his chest, and he enveloped her in his arms.
What he’d said to McKenna had been true. He couldn’t guarantee anything past tonight. But he could guarantee he’d never be the same.