Chapter 37 Jett
Chapter thirty-seven
Jett
"Jettson," she whispers my name, and fuck, I've missed the sound of it on her lips.
She shoots up in the bed, her eyes instantly finding and colliding with mine. A noticeable shiver spreads throughout her body as she takes me in.
"You're crying." Of all the things I could possibly say, I decided to point out the most obvious.
She sighs and quickly wipes at the tears.
I walk up to her, reaching for her wrists. I tug her off the bed, pulling her directly against my chest, wrapping my arms protectively around her.
When I practically begged Via to let me be the one to talk to Izzy, I expected her to put up more of a fight.
She didn’t oppose at all—simply looked me over, then gave me a nod and told me to let her know once we’re finished talking.
I suppose she could see the sadness on my face.
The desperation. Part of me thinks I should feel like less of a man for letting that emotion show.
But fuck, it was worth it. I’m glad I did because Izzy is in my arms again.
"Jett," she whimpers my name as the once-silent tears turn into a sob. Then she falls apart on my chest.
"I know," I whisper back, running a hand across her temple and then through her hair, the sweet floral scent filling my nose. "I know."
We stand there connected like that for what feels like forever, yet not long enough simultaneously, and fuck me, it's everything I've yearned for all this time.
I've longed for the connection, the feel of her in my arms, the security I've always felt in her presence.
While it's healing the part of me that needed this, it's also breaking the other part of me.
The logical part that holds all the questions and needs the answers.
"Shh, don't cry." I pull her in closer to me. "Is this because of him?"
"No," she says with a scoff, shaking her head. "It's because of me. It's always because of me. I am the problem, Jett."
I don't speak. I should tell her she's not. Reassure her. I don't.
"I can only imagine what you think of me," she adds, and stiffens in my arms at whatever thought is racing through her mind.
"You have no idea what it is I think of you. Don't go making assumptions in that pretty little head of yours."
Reluctantly, I remove my hands from her waist and place them on her shoulders, slightly pushing her back to face me.
Our eyes meet, and there it is—the same intense connection that has always existed, sparking between us like a live wire.
I push the familiar feeling down and set out for the answers I've come here for—the closure I know I need but also don't want to receive.
"Can we talk?" I keep my voice even, although it's difficult.
She scoffs, pulling out of my grasp, and begins pacing the small room.
"Here we fucking go," she mutters under her breath. "You really wanna do this?"
"Verbal sparring match with you? Absolutely. Sign me the fuck up." My words are coated in sarcasm, and she isn't the least bit impressed, rolling her eyes.
"Fine. Let's talk."
Oh shit.
I did not expect her to agree that easily. Now, I'm left dumbfounded, not knowing what the hell I should say. I know all the questions I have, but do I really want to go in guns blazing?
"You talk, I listen," I say instead, and she nods hesitantly, agreeing.
With a sigh, she drops to the edge of the bed, brushing a hand through her long blonde hair. I want nothing more than to reach out and touch her again. Hold her in my arms for longer.
I don't.
"I pushed you away..." She pauses, dropping her eyes to the floor. "You were right about what you said back then. I was fucking terrified."
I stay silent for a bit, ready to listen, giving her the space to continue. She doesn't elaborate and doesn't offer an explanation.
"Terrified of what?" Wanting so badly just to hear her words, I grow slightly annoyed, and it's evident in my tone. Her eyes briefly flash up to meet mine, but don't linger as they quickly travel back to stare down at her clasped hands, resting in her lap.
"Of you!" she shouts a little louder than I believe she intended, judging by her facial reaction. "Of what you were making me feel. Of—" She lets out a sigh, cutting off her own words. "It doesn't matter now."
"The fuck it doesn't. It matters," I respond firmly, demanding the answers I've come here for. "I know you were scared. That much was obvious. What I don't know is why. It never added up."
"What never added up?" she asks softly, her attention staying trained on her hands, intentionally not focusing on me.
I scoff. “Everything. What were you scared of? What happened to make you so guarded? I may not be a genius, but I'm emotionally intelligent enough to know that people don't just go around closing themselves off for the fuck of it, Iz. There's typically a reason. I'm here to listen to yours."
Her eyes slowly make their way up my body until they meet mine yet again.
This time, she holds my gaze. The look I see when I stare at her is one I've never witnessed—the vulnerability that she's learned to mask so well.
It's as if, in that gaze, she's showing me everything she feels.
The pain she hides is so evident in this moment, the tension in the air surrounding us builds until it's thick and suffocating.
Unable to take the distance, I break our eye contact, walk to the bed, and sit next to her on the edge of the mattress, linking our pinkies. It's a silent promise. Our promise. One to listen, to attempt to be understanding, and a promise that she will be heard. Like we used to do.
"Do you remember the time you asked about who I lost my virginity to?" Her voice is small, but I hear her loud and clear.
"I remember everything, Iz. You said it was to Chad with his unimpressive micropenis," I say, trying hard as hell not to laugh, eyebrows raised, curious as to where this is going.
She nods, unamused. "Chad." She scoffs, as if disgusted at the way his name tastes coming out of her mouth. "The thing is, I never technically lost my virginity… Chad took a lot more from me than I was ready to give. I thought I was in love, and he proved to me I wasn’t. I was so young and naive."
I have a feeling I know where this is going, and I can't contain the fury and protectiveness that rage through my veins. Releasing her pinky, I grab onto her hand, intertwining her fingers with mine. Fuck. That's all it takes for the memories of how we were to come flooding back.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts and stay here in the moment with her. I give her hand a soft squeeze, signaling for her to continue.
"I wasn't necessarily one of those girls in high school who were easily approachable.
I spoke my mind too freely, and most of the guys were scared of me.
Not Chad. He approached me with no fear, and he oozed confidence.
I was mesmerized by him. He would walk me to class, call me constantly, and remind me of how special I was.
I didn't need all that shit, but it was nice.
" She lets out a sigh, taking a moment to catch her breath.
"You know,” she continues, “I was never shy when it came to guys, but I wasn't ready for that.
.. step. Not yet. He would persistently try and would get shut down.
It was the day I finally told him I loved him, too.
He got sick of waiting, so he pushed me into the school's empty bathroom, locked the door, pinned me down on my back, and took what he wanted.
Once he was done, he was finished with me completely.
He bragged to all of his friends on the football team about how 'easy' I was.
I think it's then that sex became just a coping mechanism for me.
My walls went up around my heart, and I let my freak flag fly.
I was already labeled as a whore after that.
Why not give the world what they wanted? "
Rage.
Fiery. Hot. Rage.
I release her, and my hands ball into fists at my sides. I stand and begin pacing.
It all makes sense. It’s why she’s always felt the need to be in control during sex. It’s also why her heart is locked behind the vault she’s built. The first time she allowed herself to fall in love with a guy, he turned around and immediately hurt her.
"Iz—"
"I don't need sympathy, Jett. You have questions. You're getting the answers. I've never told anyone, and that's all I'm willing to say on it. Long story short, Chad is the one who taught me to fear love. My father just solidified that feeling."
I stop in my tracks, inhaling sharply with shock. "Your father!?" I shout louder than intended.
She shakes her head. "Not what you're thinking."
"Make me understand." I keep my voice low and my tone even. I look at her and give her a soft nod, encouraging her to talk. Letting her know it's safe to do so.
"I can try." Her voice catches. "But it has to stay between us. Via can never find out."
I swallow. She's trusting me with something she hasn't even trusted Via with. She trusts Via with everything, or so I thought.
Izzy sighs, and her shoulders slightly slump forward as she exhales. It's evident in her posture that whatever she's holding back is heavy and weighing her down.
"It's hard to trust in love when I've witnessed the ultimate form of betrayal.
" Her eyes break my gaze and focus on her feet, swinging off the bed nervously.
"My dad..." She sighs as if releasing the world's weight from her chest in that single breath.
"Growing up, I always thought I had the perfect family.
We were happy—or, at least, I thought we were.
I envied my parents and their bond, and I craved to someday have what they had in one another.
It was all so picture-perfect from the outside looking in.
Until... One day, I got an inside look, and it wasn't as perfect or as pretty as I assumed. "
I stay silent, never looking away from her, allowing her to continue at her own pace when she's comfortable. I stop my pacing, returning to sit next to her, reaching for her hand, holding it in mine atop her thigh.
"When we were young, V and Natty started coming over when things would get heated at their house.
" I nod, already knowing this and not sure how any of this correlates.
"Well, after a while, my dad decided to step in.
He contacted their parents to see if there was anything he could do to help.
Via's dad refused to talk to him about it, simply saying it was a family issue and that he appreciated our family for allowing them to come over when they needed it. "
Izzy's eyes dart to mine, and for a second, I see the pain she hides so well.
She's always so happy and outgoing, and she's never scared of a good time or speaking her mind.
This—this is another side. The side that many aren't privy to.
It's real. It's raw. It's her. All of her.
The pieces of her that she hides away from the world because she believes she has to.
She will never have to hide any part of herself where I'm concerned. I want it all.
"What my dad failed to mention to any of us,” she says softly, “was that he also spoke to Via's mother. Somewhere down the line, lines blurred, and their speaking became more."
“What the fuck?” I gasp, then cover my mouth to try and take it back, as if it isn't already too late.
"I walked in on them in 2015. My dad begged me not to say anything to anyone. Especially my mom or Via. He promised it would never happen again. Well, he lied. It did. It never stopped. He has no idea that I know it continued on until Via’s mom passed away."
"Iz..." I have no idea what to say. She doesn't want Via to know, so she's obviously held this in to protect her.
"I know you're going to tell me that I need to tell her, but I can't." She stands and turns to face me head-on, grabbing her chest. "She doesn't need the added pain of this, especially after how far she's come."
"Actually," I say, then pause, stand, and walk over to her, wrapping her in my arms. "I was going to say that I get it now. I get you."
Izzy pulls back, slightly out of my grasp, until our eyes meet.
Her brows draw together in confusion. "You do?"
I nod. "Yeah, I do. I get that you've witnessed betrayal and feel betrayed.
.. But I think the worst part is that you were pressured to keep the secrets for everyone else's benefit. You were also forced to move on daily as if nothing was broken. 2015? Fuck, Iz, you were a kid. For ten years, you’ve felt like you're betraying the ones you love by keeping this from them, even if it is for the best. You've been scared to fully open up to me, to us, to anyone.
And you're still scared—not only of how others may hurt you if you let them in, but also of how you might hurt them, as well. "
I raise my hands, one cupping her chin, angling her face to look up at mine, the other running through her hair. She lets out a sharp exhale, sinking into my touch.
Breathing her in, I continue, "I understand. Thank you for trusting me enough to make me understand," I pause briefly. "But Iz, tell me. What is holding you together while you're out here trying to hold everything together for everyone else? Who is taking care of you?"
"I can take care of my damn self," she clips back immediately, raising challenging eyebrows at me, as if she's daring me to push her any further.
Well, she's back! That's my girl.
"I have not a single damn doubt about that." I stifle the inappropriate chuckle that tries to push its way out. "If you were ready for more, why not come back to me? You knew where I stood, and I know, to this day, you wanted it too."
"You've been done with me, Jett." Her voice is small and insecure. So unlike her.
"Ha," I laugh without any humor. "I wish I could've been, Izabel. Trust me. Life would’ve been a lot easier these past few years if I had been."
Her features remain soft as her eyes shoot up to mine. "There are no easy answers," she says firmly, displaying that sass I know all too well, just before she looks away and begins pacing again.
"Well, it's a good thing I'm not looking for easy; I'm looking for real."