Chapter 16
Sixteen
On the way to the registers to buy the aviator sunglasses, Dax grabs a sweatshirt because my arms get notoriously cold on the back of his motorcycle.
It’s pale pink and says, ‘Dream Girl’ in white stitching.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t wear it in public.
It’s more suited for a Tuesday night at the manor; when I’m wearing an avocado face mask and watching a trashy reality show.
But Dax says I look cute in it, so I wear it with pride.
At this point, the ride from Victoria Falls to Logan’s Point on the motorcycle feels natural.
Who knew I could get used to this mode of transport so quickly?
But that’s where the comfort ends. When we reach Dax’s family home, my stomach tosses about like a rickety old ship in the middle of a bad storm.
Dax parks the motorcycle beside the house. The exterior siding is damaged. Large chunks of paint have stripped away. Long, prickly grass grows into the cracks in the wall.
I pick up my jaw before I slip off the motorcycle.
Dax pulls off his helmet and winks. “Home, sweet home.”
“I’m excited to see where you grew up.” It’s not a lie. I want to know more about him. Everything about him. And this deteriorating home is part of his story.
Dax leads me into the house. The front patio is spongy, and I imagine myself falling through. Dax barges his shoulder against the front door, forcing it open. The hinges squeak, and the door thuds against the interior wall.
Dax sucks in a breath, gritting his teeth as he holds his ribs.
“Oh my gosh, you’re hurt,” I panic.
He sucks in another breath, removing his hand as he stands upright. “No, I’m good. I just forgot to use my other side.”
“You know, you can still get those X-rays.”
He looks at me with dismay. “Don’t start that again.”
I raise my hands in surrender. “Fine. How about you give me the grand tour?”
Dax steps to the side. “Right this way, my lady.”
I use every trick my mother ever taught me about keeping a happy disposition on the exterior, masking all the emotions inside. It’s not the fact the house is small that’s tripping me out. It’s how dark it is. There are some shabby curtains covering one window, but the other three are boarded up.
Dax closes the front door and steps ahead of me. “Don’t go in the kitchen,” he says, motioning to the left. “There’s so much mold, and the drain is clogged, giving it a really funky smell.”
I grimace as my mouth pools with saliva. “Eww.”
“Plus, the fridge died a long time ago,” he adds. “It’s so gross.”
I cross my fingers and ask, “Are you telling me this so everything else will seem better?”
Dax sniggers. “Just getting the warnings out ahead of time.”
“Well, I don’t cook at my own home, so I wasn’t planning to go into your kitchen.”
We walk through the living room, which I assume is now home to spiders. Cobwebs fill the ceiling corners, dead bugs litter the light fixtures, and dust cakes the table and chairs.
Dax points out the bathroom, but after the kitchen warnings, I don’t dare peer inside. Dax moves ahead and stops in a doorway.
“This is where I hang out when I come here,” he says.
He moves aside, and I enter the space. There’s a chest against the wall with one out of three drawers missing, and a double bed with a beige sheet covering the mattress.
“This would be better than sleeping outside,” I say, inspecting the bed.
“Sometimes,” Dax says, moving into the room. “But it’s easier to hide outside. Lance knows I like it here.”
“Does he come here looking for you?”
Dax sits on the edge of the bed. “Not in a long time because I stopped coming here. Now he thinks I avoid this place.”
“Which makes it easier to hide?”
“Yep. I just can’t come too often or he’ll work it out again.” Dax pats the space beside him, and I sit down. “So, what do you think?”
I don’t answer because the dust is playing havoc with my nostrils. I finally sneeze, making Dax laugh.
“Maybe we needed to buy that vanilla candle you liked,” I tease. “Give this place some ambiance.”
“You mean, give it a better smell?”
I throw a palm upward. “I was trying to be nice.”
“I told you it wasn’t a palace.”
“To be totally fair, the smell isn’t that bad. It’s just musty.”
“Yeah, I haven’t done any upkeep. If I tried to fix anything, it’d be a big red flag to my brother.”
“He’d prefer to see this place waste away?”
“Mm-hmm. Just like how he thinks about our family.”
I rub a circle on his back. “I’m sorry.”
He smiles. “It is what it is.”
“We can change that, though.”
“You have money to change your life. I’m more stuck than you.”
I rest my chin on his shoulder. “I have money that can change both of our lives.”
Dax scoots backward and lies on his back, looking up at the discolored ceiling. “This isn’t something you can just throw money at and fix. Doesn’t this place show you just how different our lives are?”
I crawl up the bed and lie by his side. “I wasn’t trying to change or fix you.”
Dax turns on his side, nestling an arm around my waist. “I’ve seen your home. Don’t you think we’re too different?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Who cares where we’re from? I loved my night under the stars with you, and I loved being goofy at the mall.”
Dax plants a kiss on my forehead and sighs. “I’ve never met anyone like you. I can’t imagine not having you in my life.”
I hug my arm around him. “You never have to.”
In our embrace, Dax pushes me back onto the bed, leaning the top half of his body over me. “I’m sorry this isn’t the most romantic setting.”
I shrug, sinking into the mattress. “I kinda like how quiet it is. And I love that no one would guess I’m here.”
“In that case.” His gravelly tone comes out to play as his hands wander my waistline. “Perhaps we should get more comfortable.”
As I lie beneath him on the bed, wondering how on earth we could get more comfortable, his kisses accelerate with heat and force. His lips begin to miss mine, and wet warmth sticks to the spot above my chin.
The sweatshirt bunches around me, allowing Dax’s hands to roam. My hand runs the length of his neck and plants on his shoulder. I give it a squeeze, catching my breath. When his hand snakes up my shirt and touches my torso, I flinch. With more zeal, his hands cup around my chest.
In panic, I shove the hand inside my shirt, and scamper to the other side of the bed.
“What happened?” he asks, hovering above where I was lying.
I sit up, noting the flush in my chest and face. I pull my T-shirt down as the sweatshirt unravels from above my ribs.
He scoots beside me, placing a hand on my upper arm. “Hey. You okay?”
“It’s just… I… You’re… You’re the first person I’ve kissed. This is all just moving really fast for me.”
He takes his hand off me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
I hug my arms around my middle, shying away from him. “You’re obviously more experienced than me.”
“I don’t know if that’s true.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “You just bring out a need in me. I want to be with you as much as I can.”
“I told you I like waiting for moments that feel special.” Pouting, I pan around the derelict room. “This doesn’t exactly feel special.”
He sits back, combing a hand through his hair. “You just told me you liked it here. How am I supposed to know if you’re telling the truth or not?”
I place a hand on my chest. “I wasn’t lying. I just needed to slow down.”
Dax leans back on his arm. “That’s fine. I just want to be with you. We can stay at opposite ends of the room for all I care.”
I can’t help feeling sensitive and inexperienced as I turn away from him. “You have done a lot more with other girls, though. Haven’t you?”
“Why are you asking that?”
I bundle my hands inside the sweatshirt sleeves, keeping my head low. “You and Stella… You seemed close. Like, in jokes and history.”
“How much more obvious do I need to be about how much I like you?”
His words make me turn to face him.
He leans forward with purposeful eye contact. “There are no other girls on my mind.”
It keeps gnawing at me. “But are you hiding how close you and Stella are?”
Dax’s jaw flexes as he breaks eye contact. “Is that why you recoiled when I touched you?”
Like a reflex, I pull my shirt down again. “No, but…”
“Vanessa,” he says softly. “I don’t want to rush you, and I don’t want to be with anyone else. There’s never been anyone else. I’m sorry I got handsy. I won’t do it again until you tell me you’re ready.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “Really?”
His sincere smile eliminates the tension seizing the room. “Of course. I got caught up, and that’s on me. I won’t do it again. Really. I’m sorry.”
I hug my middle, unsure of how to act. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything.”
He shrugs. “You’re just setting boundaries. I can respect that.”
I loosen my arms and edge closer to him. “I’m sorry for getting obsessive about the other girl.”
He caresses the side of my face. “Look, I’ve hung out with her over the years, but there’s nothing there. I never felt a spark before I met you.”
I bite my lip, leaning into him. “Really?”
“I remember seeing you before I collapsed,” he admits. “Everything was going white, but I saw you. There was all this light around you, like an angel. Part of me thought I was dying.”
I nuzzle my face against his. “I’m so glad I was there to get you help.”
Dax pulls away from me, his face stony as it turns toward the doorway. My hand lies on his chest, feeling the thumps of his heart. As if seeing his ears prick, I hear it too. The rev of motorcycles coming to a stop outside the house.
Dax moves to the end of the bed, listening intently to the outside noises. When a louder engine roars, Dax jolts.
He looks back at me with heightened concern. “That’s my brother’s bike.”
I sit up, blood draining from my body. “What do we do?”
“They must’ve seen my bike,” Dax says, standing. He holds out a hand to me. “You’ll need to hide.”
“What about you?” I say, standing with him.
“I’ll get them out of here.”
My heart thuds against my ribs. “Them?”