11. Chapter Eleven
Jax
D espite years of service with the local fire department, nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Maddie’s car in a ditch. I’ve seen and experienced a lot, yet it’s different when it’s someone you know. A cold numbness sweeps over my limbs as I maneuver my truck onto the side of the road. I yank my seatbelt off like it’s personally offended me and jump out of the idling vehicle. My muscles tense as I mentally brace myself for all the different scenarios I may find.
Images flash through my mind of different vehicles and all the various wrecks I’ve been called to over the years. Some of which were in weather similar to this. Images of grisly injuries, frightened people trapped within mangled vehicles, and bodies that don’t move. A weak, petite hand trying to grip my own.
Not my Maddie. Not her—never her.
“Maddie!” I’m yelling her name as I sprint down the small embankment, only vaguely aware of the ankle-deep snow soaking through my socks. I jerk the car door open, and a rush of relief sweeps through me when I see that she appears conscious and relatively unharmed. But her breathing is coming in short, shallow pants and she has a white-knuckled grip on her seatbelt. Her terror-filled eyes don’t appear to be focused on anything in particular and, with a sinking feeling in my gut, I realize she must be stuck in old memories.
While she’s never talked to me about the wreck that killed her parents, I know she was in the backseat that day. Luke once mentioned that she still has occasional nightmares about it. From a quick glance around, it looks like she did nothing more than slide off the road and get herself stuck in this ditch. But the trauma of her past has her panic riding her hard.
I’ve never felt so helpless in my life, and I hate it.
“Maddie. Look at me, baby.” Crouching down, I press my forehead to hers so she has nowhere else to look but at me. Her skin is pale and clammy. “I know what you’re feeling is scary right now, but I’m here and I promise you are in no danger.” I tuck a stray lock of her silky, soft hair behind her ear as she stares up at me. “You’re with me now, and you’re safe. I’ve got you, okay?”
“Jax,” she pants, her lower lip trembling. “My parents—” She pauses when her voice cracks, her eyebrows furrowing. I wonder if she even knows what she’s trying to say. “There was ice on the road…”
Jesus. My heart feels like it’s being ripped out.
“We’re going to concentrate on breathing.” Despite my inner turmoil, my voice is steady and firm. That’s what she needs from me right now. “Stay in the present with me, Maddie. Just breathe.” I thread my hand around the back of her head, weaving my trembling fingers through her hair. “Breathe with me,” I whisper. I inhale a heavy, calming breath before making an exaggerated show of exhaling slowly.
Maddie mimics me so I do it again. My eyes never leave hers as we breath in each other’s air, over and over. Eventually, her breathing becomes more controlled. The death grip on her seatbelt loosens, and she clutches the front of my shirt instead.
“That’s it,” I praise her. “You’re being such a good girl for me, Maddie.”
Her breath catches at my phrase, her eyelids fluttering as she relaxes a little more against me. Something threatens to stir inside me at her response, but I ignore it. Instead, I let some of my training take over. The need to get her home where she can be safe and warm nips at my heels, and I won’t relax until I can make that happen.
“Does anything hurt?” My hands sweep down her neck, palpating as I watch for any sign of pain.
“No.”
I press two fingers to her wrist, silently taking her pulse before moving on. Peering into her eyes, I gauge her pupils before palpating across her chest and abdomen. Maddie stares up at me, her expression now calm, if not a little dazed. A small, pent-up breath escapes me when she shows no reaction. No flinching, no sharp gasps, nothing to indicate that she’s hurt.
“I’m going to take you home,” I murmur. Reaching over, I turn off her car and pocket her keys. When I pull back, she moves forward but I stop her with a hand on her shoulder. She gives me a questioning look, but I don’t answer her. Instead, I bend down and scoop an arm underneath her thighs.
“Jax!” She shakes her head. “I can walk. I’m fine.” She tries to push away from me, but I only tighten my grip.
“Well, I’m not.” My voice quivers, my pulse throbbing in my ears. She stills against me, studying me with a searching look. I fight the urge to duck my head. “ I won’t be okay until we get you home. Just let me take care of you.” My chest heaves as I continue meeting her gaze head on, hiding none of my vulnerability. I feel like my insides are exposed, allowing her to see everything.
“Please,” I add quietly. “Let me.”
A long moment of silence passes between us as she studies me. My heartbeat is erratic, and a fission of fear takes root inside me. I want to take care of her, not just because I think she needs it right now, but also because I need it. I need it to assure myself she’s still in one piece. I need to keep touching and soothing her for my own damn sanity. Just as I’m beginning to think she’s going to deny me, she gives me a tight nod.
“Okay.”
Her whisper is so soft I almost don’t hear her. The relief sweeping through me makes my knees shake. She gives me a tentative, understanding smile before looping her arms around my neck.
“Thank you,” I say.
She’s light in my arms as I scoop her up and shut the car door with my hip. My shoes dig into the snow and mud as I trudge back up the embankment, but I manage to make it back up without slipping. Carrying her towards my waiting truck, I relish the feel of her warm body pressed against mine. Lowering my head, I take in a whiff of her shampoo. It smells like coconut and something clean. If she notices that I’m sniffing her, she doesn’t comment on it. I get the passenger door of my truck open and gently slide her onto the seat. Before she has the chance, I’m leaning across her shivering body and buckling her seatbelt.
Pulling back, my bicep accidently grazes her breast. My skin tightens, and I want to groan. I try to ignore the way her breath hitches.
After walking around to the driver’s side, I climb in and shut the door behind me. The warmth of the heat blowing from the air vents feels good on my chilled skin, but Maddie’s small frame continues to shiver. She places her hands underneath her thighs, probably in an effort to warm them up. Reaching forward, I turn the heat to full blast. Maddie watches me in silence as I twist around in my seat and grab the small blanket that I keep back there. Being a firefighter has taught me that certain items such as blankets and jumper cables are better to have and not need. I drape it over her lap and pull it up to her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “For the blanket, and for…everything.”
She’s thanking me? I should be thanking her. Some part of her must trust me, or she would never allow me to fuss over her like this. Having her trust, being the one to take care of her when she’s feeling vulnerable, is such a privilege. Do I even deserve it? After avoiding her all week in a pathetic attempt to hide my feelings for her, I’m not sure that I do. Maybe if I hadn’t been avoiding her so much, I would have realized a lot sooner that she wasn’t home.
I could have prevented this.
“No thanks needed,” I murmur, my voice gruff. “I have a buddy who owns a tow truck.” Pulling back onto the road, I keep my speed a little slower than usual as my truck maneuvers through the icy slush. “It didn’t look like there was much damage to the car, so I’ll ask him to tow it back to the house.”
“How did you know to come looking for me?” Her voice is so quiet and tentative, I have to strain to hear her. She gazes out the window, her eyes not meeting mine.
“When I came home, you weren’t there,” I begin. Should I share what I know about the wreck that killed her parents? “I know that when you were eighteen, you were traveling in a car with your parents during a snowstorm. A semi-truck slid on some ice and collided with your vehicle head on. Your parents both died before they even made it to the hospital, and I should think that would leave a mark on anybody. I didn’t want you out by yourself in this kind of weather.”
“Sounds like Luke told you everything.”
I shift in my seat. I’m not sure what she wants me to say to that, so I squeeze her hand instead.
“Fuck, it feels good to bring you back to the house,” I admit, deciding it’s time to change the subject. Putting the truck into park, I turn the engine off before reaching over to unbuckle Maddie’s seatbelt. She stares up at me with an expression I can’t quite place. I keep my hand on her elbow as we walk up the front steps. Maybe I should leave her alone to collect her thoughts, but she looks so fragile right now.
We’re silent as we enter the house and make our way upstairs.
“Take a shower in my room. My bathroom has a jacuzzi.” I nod towards my bedroom door. She hesitates, nibbling on her bottom lip before nodding. Placing my hand on her lower back, I guide her into my bedroom before she can change her mind. I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but when she mentions needing to get pajamas from her room, I hand her one of my old shirts along with a pair of gray sweatpants. Surprise flickers across her face, but she takes them without protest and disappears into the bathroom.
I change into a pair of sweatpants myself before slumping down on the edge of the bed. Releasing a heavy exhale, I finally allow some of the tension to seep out of my body. That’s when I hear the faint sound of sobbing coming from behind the closed door. My eyelids fall shut, sharp pain lancing through my chest. It kills me to sit out here and listen to the grief and despair echoing off the bathroom walls, but I fight the urge to go comfort her. I doubt she wants me in there right now.
No doubt she’s remembering her parents.
I hate that it’s something we have in common. Losing your parents just as you are entering adulthood is a special kind of pain. It feels like having a rug ripped out from underneath you, a support system stolen while you’re still trying to find your way.
Turning out the lights, I climb onto the bed and sink down against the soft sheets. The bathroom door opens, and light floods the room. When her eyes find mine, I pretend not to notice the puffy, swollen skin around them. Her gaze travels down my bare torso, her cheeks turning pink. My stomach swoops. Fuck, I should have put a shirt on. She’s had a rough day, and I don’t want her to get the wrong impression. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to puff up my chest a little at the attention.
“I didn’t know you had a tattoo.” Her voice is quiet and subdued. I peer down at my chest, my eyes landing on the fire helmet tattooed above my left pec. It’s encased in flames with the number 847 at the top of the helmet.
“Got it after my old man died,” I admit. “It’s a reminder of the sort of man he was and who I want to be.” I don’t tell her that while I have a tattoo to memorialize my dad, I have nothing for my mother. Have never wanted anything because I have so few happy memories with her. But that’s a story for another time. Pulling back the covers, I gesture to the other side of the king-size mattress.
“Sleep next to me tonight.” My voice is soft, coaxing. I swallow, my heart skipping a beat as I search her face for a reaction. Her eyebrows arch up, her lips parting. She looks down at the empty spot then back at me. I think I see a hint of longing on her face.
As if I would let you be alone tonight, sweetheart.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
I shrug. “Probably not. But I don’t think you should be by yourself right now.” I pause before clearing my throat and averting my eyes. “And I—I would like to hold you tonight, if that’s okay.” Her entire body freezes, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m pushing too much. I rub the back of my neck. “But if that makes you uncomfortable—”
“I would like that,” she whispers.
Not as much as I will.
I don’t speak, only giving her a reassuring smile as she slowly approaches. She climbs onto the bed before snuggling on her side facing away from me. My heart swells, something like awe filling me at the way she burrows into the blankets. For so many years, I never thought I would see the day she willingly climbed into my bed. And to have her look so peaceful—I want to savor this.
“Goodnight,” I whisper.
Pulling the blankets around us, I scoot a little closer. I don’t stop until my chest presses into her back, and I can feel the warmth of her body. When she doesn’t tense, I gingerly drape my arm around her waist. She leans back a little bit, her eyes sliding shut. My heart has never felt this full.
“Goodnight.”