Chapter 61
Chapter Sixty-One
Kira
Ikeep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the only thing that drops is my truck. It makes a clanking sound as the tow truck releases it in the drive of my house.
My house.
I give a glance behind me, slightly embarrassed at the size of it, at the niceness of it.
I don’t know how Jax did it, but he had the keys in my hand within three days of the fire.
It’s nowhere near as big as James’ mansion—I vetoed all those options despite Jax’s pushing—but it’s still larger than anything I ever hoped to live in, and there’s not an empty house next door that I need to check on constantly.
Idly, I wonder if anyone has reported Nosy Nellie missing yet when I’m pulled from my thoughts.
“You Kira Noland?” The tow truck driver doesn’t look at me as he unhooks the chain on my fender.
“Yep,” I say.
“You gotta sign something. Don’t go nowhere.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I say and try to be patient while he does his thing.
The truck may be a piece of shit, but I’ve missed it.
Cloverwick PD took their sweet time returning it despite the Marshal Wayne case being closed.
Apparently, they found some documentation of him skipping the country, reinforced by the evidence that he was involved with some shady affairs that went south.
I don’t know how much Jax paid to make that happen, but I shudder to imagine it. Layton must be livid.
It’s the first snow of the season, and I crunch over the sleet to get a better look at something flapping in the bed of the truck.
Careful not to slip, I brace myself against the icy metal and lean over.
I’m met with sheets of cardboard, slightly wilted from moisture.
My brows come together until I freeze when I spot a reddish-brown smudge.
Oh, my god.
I quickly look around, feeling exposed in broad daylight.
But there’s no one out except the driver, and he’s bent over beneath the hood, threading a chain.
Heart picking up pace, I grab a clean piece of the cardboard we used to cover Marshal’s body that night and maneuver it over the bloody one.
Jesus, did the forensics people see it? They had to have seen it.
They had to. And they just… sent it back to me?
What in the world did Jax do?
“All in one piece?”
I startle at the sound of his voice, spinning around and slipping on a piece of ice. I’m about to land on my ass when his strong arms catch me.
“Woah,” he chuckles. “You’re jumpy.”
“I…” I glance at the truck from his arms. “There’s…”
“There’s what?” A plume of breath leaves his lips.
“Blood,” I whisper.
He quirks a brow and rights me. Wiping the ice from my hands on my pants, I watch as he takes a look in the bed, shuffles around, and then pauses. “Well, look at that,” he says.
“‘Well, look at that?’” I hiss. How can he be so cavalier? “How the fuck am I not in jail right now?”
He turns and shrugs, infuriatingly casual. “People like money more than justice. But it’s all in one piece? Normally they tear cars apart when they—”
“I highly doubt everyone who saw that was fine with looking the other way for a paycheck,” I cut him off. “What did you do, Jax?”
“Do you really want to know?” He tilts his head.
I narrow my eyes.
He sighs, slowly stepping toward me and sliding his palms under my elbows. “Not only do people like money more than justice,” he levels his gaze to mine, “they also like to keep their kneecaps.”
I groan and practically stomp my foot.
“Come on, baby.” He smirks. “I may be putting on a suit every morning, but I’m still a criminal at heart.”
I eye his crisp white button down, sleeves rolled up and showing off his tattoos. He’s been back and forth between the city and here, sorting out the change with the firm, and maybe I have forgotten who he really is—when the leather and jeans have been replaced with slacks and ties.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Just…” I blow out a breath. “Don’t let Nix find out you’re still a criminal, okay?”
I’ve been desperately trying to keep her reined in, tamping her pleas for him to teach her how to shoot guns by telling her that Jax has put all that behind him. I don’t need her wanting to know how to break kneecaps.
“Are she and Caleb still not talking?” he asks.
“You could cut the tension with a knife,” I whine and lean against his chest.
With Jax being back and forth, and Caleb only having a few more months until he graduates with Nix, it only made sense for us to all live together.
Not that I think Jax would have had it any other way.
And as much as he explicitly states that the house is mine, I wouldn’t want it any other way either.
Even if Nix and Caleb refuse to speak to one another.
“If she would just say sorry, he would forgive her,” Jax says.
“I’ve told her that. She won’t listen to me.”
“Because she’s as stubborn as you.”
I roll my eyes as the driver approaches with a clipboard. Signing, I pointlessly try to step in front of the bed of the truck.
“We have to get this in the garage,” I say once he’s gone.
“So, you don’t want to take it to the service?” His lip twitches.
“Not with evidence in the back,” I hiss.
James’ funeral is at one p.m. The remains from the fire may have been cremated, but they are still putting a box in the ground for him.
It’s something I would have preferred to avoid, but Nix is adamant that she needs to go to be there for Caleb—even if they aren’t speaking.
It’s kind of the same way that Caleb still drives her to school but doesn’t look at her.
They still care about each other but can’t get around the boulder between them.
Once the Chevy’s backed in, I’m out before the engine even settles, dropping the tailgate while Jax is still hitting the button to close the garage.
It feels like I’ve been holding my breath since the night of the fire—bracing for a backlash that hasn’t come.
Layton hasn’t reached out to pick apart my story.
Arnold hasn’t bothered to show his face.
Everything is seemingly tied up in a neat little bow, and yet there’s a knot in my chest that won’t loosen for the life of me.
I slide the sheets of cardboard toward me, telling myself this is it—this is the reason I can’t breathe. Some part of me must’ve known there was still a loose thread out there, something damning enough to unravel everything. And if I can just get rid of it… maybe I’ll finally be able to relax.
“Don’t worry about that,” Jax says. “The case is closed. No one’s looking at us anymore.”
I ignore him, feeling a bit desperate as I claw at the cardboard, the tailgate digging into my stomach as I try to reach for more.
The pieces are long, whole boxes that we ripped one seam of to elongate over Marshal, and they bunch up against me, sleet drenching my shirt.
But I have to bundle them up, shove them in black trash bags, take them to a dumpster somewhere. I have to.
“Kira.” Jax’s voice is faraway.
I bring up a knee and scramble onto the cold bed, unable to free a corner from one of the old, mounted toolboxes.
I don’t know if all of them have blood, or just the one, but I’m not taking any chances.
I can’t… I can’t go through it all again.
But it’s really wedged in there, and the damp fibers rip in my grip.
A screech leaves me just as warm hands clamp my waist. I’m hauled back against an even warmer chest. “Baby, baby, baby,” Jax breathes into my ear. “It’s okay.” He drags me off the bed of the truck and wraps his arms around me from behind.
“No.” I tug against him. “We have to get rid of them.”
“Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He reels me in, locking me against him. “I’ll burn them. Just breathe.”
“Now.” My voice is weak and desperate. “Please?”
“Right now.” He quickly presses his lips, and then his cheek, to the top of my head before letting go.
His movements are sure as he steps beside me and starts gathering the boxes.
He makes quick work of the pile and folds them under his arm, no concern for his nice shirt as he takes them through the house.
He pauses by the island with the spread of psychology books I have open, a brow quirking before continuing into the backyard.
I flip some of them closed, feeling embarrassed.
Bell’s let me come back despite my long absence, but with Nix going off to college soon, I’ve started entertaining the idea of attending college myself.
Nothing fancy. Probably just the community college.
But I would like to be as prepared as possible if I make that move, and I’ve been trying to study when I can.
I follow after Jax into the yard. There are patches of snow, and while the cold weather might have taken the grass from green to beige, it’s a beautiful space.
The trees have lost most of their leaves, but their delicate branches are a soft contrast to the graying sky, and the wide open space is backed to more hearty trees.
Jax tosses the pile of cardboard into the built in stone fire pit.
There’s a small heaping of logs covered by a tarp, and he throws back the plastic to grab one.
Producing a lighter from his suit pants, he flicks the flint and holds it to one of the shaggy ends.
It takes a moment, but it eventually starts to burn.
Curling into his side, I watch as the flames ignite the last shred of Marshal, the last thing holding me down.
The smoke is acrid as it billows, but I welcome it. I’m ready to put this part of my life behind me. No more will I have to live with the threat of prison over my shoulder. This is a fresh start. One with a new house and someone to protect it with me.
I’m not alone anymore, carrying everything on my own.
I have Jax, who has proven to me over and again that he will do anything for me.
Me and my sister. It’s in the way he carried me down Horizon Bluff even when I gave him lip, and the way he covered up his own father’s murder when it was Nix who killed him.
It’s in the medications he picks up from the pharmacy for my heart and the way he comes back to Cloverwick every other day despite how much easier it would be for him to stay in the city.
And to think I almost wrote him off as dangerous when he’s become the only safe thing in my life.
“Thank you,” I whisper, pressing my cheek against his chest. He’s warm and solid, and I close my eyes against the smoke and heat, knowing he’ll make sure it burns and that I don’t have to watch.
He huffs a laugh, a rumble against my cheek.
“What?” I peek up at him.
“It’s just funny.” His eyes flash with amusement as he looks down at me. “That first night, you were against certain… things… getting lit on fire.” His lip twitches. “Now you’re thanking me.”
I let out a soft groan and bury my face in him. He laughs again and rubs his hand up and down my arm. After a quiet moment with nothing but the crackle of fire, he tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. The flames catch in his eyes, gold and dangerous and achingly raw.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he says. “I would burn the whole world down for you, Kira Noland.”