23. Felicity
felicity
All the way to Jax’s apartment, which sits on the Three Rivers property, I have thoughts running through my head. The number one thought is, what the hell happened back there?
After Mitch watched me go into my house, I couldn’t sit around and wait for Jax to call or come and see me, so I immediately ran back out to my car and followed Mitch’s direction, staying a good distance behind him.
Then I questioned my sanity for a solid twenty minutes as I followed behind him up a long, steep dirt road that clearly led to a cabin.
I’d had my heart jammed in my chest, not fully beating until I saw Jax poke his head out the door and his shoulders drop in what I hoped was relief.
I didn’t know what they were discussing, but my brain wouldn’t rest until I knew Jax was okay.
The way he angled his body toward mine when I got near enough told me he didn’t want to stay with Mitch.
Mitch is…different than he used to be. Mitch used to be one of my best friends in high school and helped me out a ton whenever I struggled with lyrics or melodies and would play his guitar and help me figure it out.
Now, he looks like he can’t stand the sight of me.
Finally, parking in front of the large barn where Jax’s apartment is, he turns to face me and tries to smile. But his busted lip makes that almost impossible.
“Thanks for driving me.” There’s a defeated way about his tone, and I feel my heart ache once more for the boy I left behind.
“No problem,” I say, turning off my engine and then exiting the car.
Jax gets out and frowns at me in confusion, but I just turn, bag slung over my shoulder, and march into the barn and up the stairs that clearly lead to his place.
“City,” he calls from behind me, limping up the stairs slowly, his breathing labored.
I wait for him to reach the small landing and then smirk when he just reaches past me and opens the door, no key needed. “You have terrible security.”
Jax scoffs, and I walk into his place. It is nice for a bachelor pad. There are some boxes stacked to the side and clothes over every surface. The bed is unmade, and there is a pizza box sitting on top of the trash can by the little kitchenette.
“I would have picked up if I knew you were coming over,” he grumbles, and I turn to see him leaning back against the closed door, his cheeks an adorable shade of pink, but his already bruising eyes distract me.
“I didn’t give you much choice,” I say, then move toward him, grabbing his hand, and pulling him toward the bed. “Come on. You look like you’re about to faint, and I don’t want to be put into that position again.”
He doesn’t object and follows me to the bed, letting me sit him down and take off his boots, his shirt, and his socks. He stands, gingerly taking off his pants, and I watch in horror as I see the red marks and bruising forming around different body parts.
“Who were those guys, Jax?” I ask, my voice whisper soft as my eyes water.
Jax looks at me, anger on his face, but directed at the memory, not toward me. “Some assholes.”
His vague answer only makes me madder, and I say, “Jax. People don’t just beat other people up for no reason. They didn’t rob you or me, so what the hell?”
Jax sinks back down to the mattress and lies back. Then he looks at me as much as he can and opens his arm in invitation.
I should resist. I should wait until I have my answers. But the fear from the night, the uncertainty as I watched him unconscious on the sidewalk, the fear of him being driven away in his brother’s car hits me, and I move quickly.
I remove my shoes and slide into his bed, letting him pull the blanket over us, and, for the first time in years, snuggle into the side of the man who held my heart for over a decade.
“I know you want answers, but if you can just let me rest tonight, I promise I will tell you everything tomorrow.”
Hypocritically, I say, “Everything?”
“I swear,” he promises, curling his arm tighter around me and letting his breath even out, passing out before I can say another word.
All night I was up, checking on Jax and making sure he was still breathing and okay. He must have a concussion, so that fear that he might not wake up had me unable to close my eyes and fall asleep.
Then, when the sun starts to rise, I do too.
Sitting still has never been my forte, and Jax has an apartment that could use picking up.
First things first, I tiptoe my way into the bathroom, my bladder getting less and less space to breathe these days.
Then, I work my way through the living room, picking up laundry and putting it in a laundry basket before wandering back to the bathroom where a small apartment washer and dryer sit, and I start a load.
I gather all the trash up and tie up the overflowing trash, setting it out on the little landing and making my way back inside to wash the few dishes in the sink. It seems he uses mostly paper plates, so the job is quick.
All the while, my gaze keeps tracking back to his nearly naked form, feeling both sad at the bruising near his ribs and appreciative of the grown man he’s become. His body is no stranger to the muscles he’s formed over the last decade, putting him far away from the boy I’d left at eighteen.
As I clean up, I think about last night, how terrifying it’d been just watching him get beat to hell while I stood there helplessly. My brain couldn’t compute, and I wish and regret that I didn’t intervene and make them stop.
But the baby inside of me stopped me from doing so.
That’s something I can’t ever regret, and if Jax knew the truth…If he knew that I was protecting something other than myself…
I shake my head, my long hair coming loose from the braid, and I take a minute to pull it free.
“Well.” I startle, looking over at Jax, who’s lying there on his back, his eyes looking at me with a curved smile on his lips. “I could get used to this sight every day.”
I move toward him, unable to hold back. I sit on the rumpled bed, falling into his open arms when he sees me coming, and soaking in the warmth from his hug.
His chest rumbles as he hums. A hand strokes over my arm while his other bands around my back.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, sitting up to get a good look at his face. The bruising is worse in the daylight, but I hold in my flinch at the sight of it.
“I’m fine, City Girl. I’ve had worse done to me before.” He smiles, but it makes him wince.
“That’s not very comforting, Jax,” I say, running my finger over his cheekbone and smiling when he kisses the tip of my finger.
Before I can get dragged back under his spell and be tempted to stay in his bed all day, I get up, quickly running over to the coffee pot, pouring two cups.
“I knew I smelled something delicious,” he says, and I turn to give him a look over my shoulder, laughing when he winks, innuendo obvious.
“Well, you have zero creamer in your fridge, so you’re gonna need to fix that stat,” I state, bringing over the two black coffees. I wasn’t a huge fan of black coffee, but after not sleeping all night, this mama needed whatever she could get.
“Yeah? You planning on sticking around?” There’s a certain hesitancy in his voice, an almost nervous infliction that makes me feel that pool of guilt puddle in my stomach all over again.
I look at him then, deciding right then and there that today is not a day to grill him on why he was attacked. Jax is a grown man, and I don’t need to meddle in it. Not yet. He will tell me when he was ready, just like I will tell him about the baby I am growing. Soon.
Instead, I look at him and nod. “I’m sticking, Jaxon Cash.”
Fully sitting now with the mug of coffee in hand, he leans forward enough, urging me to do the same and says, “Good.” Then he presses a chaste kiss to my lips, as if this whole situation is completely normal.
I find myself praying that it can be.
By the time the sun is fully risen in the sky, we’ve made a half-assed breakfast of a split toaster pastry and a half bowl of stale cereal, gotten dressed—or just refreshed, in my case—and made our way out the door for a walk around the property.
Jax had been embarrassed about his breakfast options, but I was decidedly keeping the mood light. Just one day of normalcy, one day that we could just pretend our lives were that—normal—and breathe like we were a newly dating couple with no history.
He reaches out, taking my hand in his own, and I scoot close, happy to be wearing an oversized sweater that both keeps me warm in the cool October air and hides what is quickly becoming obvious.
I smile at him as he explains the new installments to the ranch, showing me where he works and what horses have “tried to kill him,” and introducing me to some of the wranglers, Maverick, Jude, and a guy named Stoney, who I’m pretty sure made up his name.
“This guy,” Jax says, walking up to one of the round pens at the back of the arena and shaking his head at the horse inside. “This guy wants to kill me.”
I scoff and look at the sweet-looking brown-colored horse. I know in the back of my mind the color has a name, but I never really listened when that was explained to me as a teen girl, only wanting one thing.
Jax’s attention.
“Why is he trying to kill you?” I ask, kissing at the horse and watching in amusement as he strides toward me, his ears forward—which I remember means good things—as he lets me pet him on the head.
“He’s out for me. I ride him, and he bucks like he’s got a damn horse fly under the saddle,” he says, watching with an odd expression on his face as he watches me pet him. “All right, that’s enough.” He grabs at my arm, pulling it to safety, and I look at him, highly amused by his actions.
“He seems sweet to me.”
Jax scowls. “To you and everyone but me. He’s got it out for me, City.”
“I highly doubt this horse has a personal vendetta against you, Jax,” I say with a sigh and then look at the watch on my wrist. Sadly, I look to Jax and say, “I’ve gotta get home.”
“You could stay,” he says quickly. “Watch me work for a while.”
“I wish I could, but I have a meeting with my manager that I can’t miss. I’ve already pissed her off enough,” I tell him, wishing like anything I could stay because I don’t want to deal with reality.
He frowns in concern. “Do you want me to come with you?”
I smile and shake my head, gingerly running a finger over his bruised cheek. “No, it’s all right. I’ve gotta get some work handled, and so do you.”
He sighs and grabs for my hand. “Come on then. I’ll walk you back to your car.”
I take his hand, interlacing our fingers, and wishing like everything I didn’t have to go. That feeling of dread surfacing in my stomach at the prospect of leaving him is a sensation I haven’t felt in years.
And while it’s a scary feeling, I can’t help but feel a little comforted at the fact that I am back in this space with Jax again.
I really didn’t want to screw this up.