Chapter 19
SOPH
Currently playing: Lost Boy by Ruth B.
After Jax left, we were afraid that he would get in trouble since he wasn’t answering our calls and texts.
King texted Eli and Ollie, asking if they’d heard from him, and they confirmed Jax was at our hotel bar.
We decided to give him the space he seemed to want to process the latest news on his family.
Having dinner with his cousins and their friends is something different.
I knew it would be a fun time, but I had no idea how much we would laugh after the day we all had.
Even though the Kingston boys said their final goodbyes to their pops only hours earlier, they have lots of tales to tell—some are more heartwarming than others.
“I remember one time when Jax was around eight and spending the weekend with us…he wanted to learn to play guitar so badly. Pops spent hours showing him the basics, and they would play all day. Honestly, I have never seen that kid that happy,” King shares.
“Your dad was the one who taught Jax to play?”
Big O smiles a wistful smile. “Yeah, only Angel was interested in playing instruments out of us three, so Pops was delighted when Jax showed strong interest. Pops had been into music since he was a kid and wanted to share that love with his children. Jax was always like his fourth son anyway, so having him and Angel loving music was everything for our him.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet. It’s such a shame that I never met Joey.”
Everyone have varying expressions of nostalgia as they agree with my statement. If today has shown me anything, it’s that everyone loved Joseph “Joey” Kingston. Everyone except Trisha, Jax’s mother, who had only negative things to say.
“There are so many more stories, too, trust me.” Angel laughs.
I like these people, but I must admit that I wish Jax was here, too. I want to understand him better—all of him. Not only the parts he shows to the world but also those aspects of his life he has hidden deep inside. The parts that I see glimpses of every time he lets me closer.
Arriving at the hotel after dinner, I decide to stop at the hotel bar to see if Jax is still there. I happen to have the only key to our room—because of an overbooking situation at the hotel—so I bet he has been waiting for me.
If Jax was a mess three hours ago, it’s nothing compared to the version of him sitting hunched over the bar, nursing his drink.
Moseying across the bar, I wait for him to notice me.
We sit there quietly for minutes before he finally turns his head my way.
And what I see in his eyes almost breaks me.
All the pain, inner turmoil, hurt, and other emotions swirl in them.
“One more, please,” Jax says to the woman behind the bar.
The bartender glances from him to me, and I nod.
I think it’ll be the last one if I want to get him out of here today.
She pours another generous helping of vodka and nudges the glass closer to Jax.
He takes a long gulp, coughs, and makes a face when he feels the drink's kick.
I ask the bartender to bring us glasses of ice water with lemon slices.
When she set them in front of us, I take a sip of my water.
“What are you doing here, Soph?”
“I was worried about you,” I say, a faint tremor in my voice.
He laughs humorlessly. “Since when did you start caring about me?”
I know he’s upset and grieving, but it doesn’t permit him to act like an asshole. “Don’t hurt me because you’re hurting. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Well, I learned from the best, darling. You met her, so you finally understand why I’m so fucked up that I can’t even join a cult, as I would be too much for them.”
“Really, Jax? Since when have you wanted to join a cult?”
“Just forget it.”
I draw in a deep breath, maintaining my calm. I understand his attitude isn’t directed at me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?” He asks with an edge to his voice.
I swallow hard and lift my chin, boldly meeting his eyes. “Whatever it is that makes you want to forget that you exist.”
“Oh, should I talk about all those times my mother picked her ex-husbands over me? Which one of those core memories of my childhood should we start with?” His breathing is getting heavier, and I’m afraid he will break his glass if he keeps his firm hold on it any longer.
“Not to forget that my father is alive, and I just discovered that after believing he was dead all my life. So, Soph, please tell me, what do you want to hear?”
Jax’s entire body is shaking as the anger radiates off him. I place my hand over his free one and squeeze it. “Any of it will do.”
He ignores me and continues rambling. “You know, there’s something I have been wondering all night long…
when I was placed in the foster system at age fourteen, Trisha did everything so her brother, my Uncle Joey, wouldn’t get custody of me.
She somehow convinced child protective services that staying connected with my uncle wouldn’t be in my best interest. My dear mother lied through her teeth, and it blows my mind that they believed her. ”
“Was that when you were placed in the same foster home with Eli and Ollie?”
Jax smiles for the first time in what feels like days.
“Yeah, the only good thing that came from living with the Browns was those two. My brothers are there for me no matter what. They even wanted to come here, but I told them not to bother. It's better if I only feel this pain.” He releases a sad chuckle. “We used to joke about how we should be called the messed-up brothers of Redwood Lane. It wasn’t too far off, to be honest. But thank fuck, we’re all out of that place and will never see our cruel foster parents again. ”
“They were abusive?”
“I never got beaten up, but others weren’t that fortunate. I think Eli took the most beating as he couldn’t shut up. Ollie was smarter than that, and the Browns were intimidated by me. Not that it matters, because those two are six feet under.”
I’ve heard the story from Eli, of what happened to the Browns, the foster parents the guys had in their teen years. They died in a house fire years ago when the guys were on their senior trip. But I still have no idea why Jax was placed in the system.
“Jax, why did you end up in the foster system?”
He finishes his drink and stares ahead for a while before finally speaking. “I stabbed my stepfather if you can call that piece of shit a father.”
The gasp leaves my lips before I have time to stop it. When I stare at him, his expression is guarded as I try to connect that piece of information to the man sitting in front of me.
“You don’t have to say anything, Soph. For this one night, just be there for me, so I don’t feel so fucking alone.”
I place my hand over his again. “I’m here, Jax.”
Jax takes a sip of his water before standing up. “Let’s sit over there at that booth.”
I follow his hand, pointing at a free booth near the back of the bar. “Sure. Let me grab us more water, and I’ll be there.”
As we sit next to each other on one side of the booth, Jax drums the table with his fingers. I move my hand over his, stopping his movement. “Jax, you know you don’t have to be nervous around me. Right?”
He lets out a huff. “Yeah, but how the fuck do I even start with my life story?”
“What if you start from the beginning? I’m interested in hearing about the time before you were in foster care,” I tell him and look into his mesmerizing eyes, full of mixed emotions.
“Trisha had me at a young age, less than a year after her high school graduation. She blamed me for ruining her life. For the first two years of my life, we lived in a small one-bedroom apartment with whoever she was currently dating. She married my first stepfather shortly after meeting him at a local supermarket. That bastard only gave me his last name and a few broken ribs before he was sentenced for manslaughter after a bar fight got out of hand when I was ten. When my grandparents died within a year of each other, we moved into their house since Trisha didn’t have much money.
Shortly after we moved, she met husband number two and married him when asshole number one died in prison.
Another one of her amazing choices. Honestly, most of my mom’s ex-husbands are why the gene pool needs a lifeguard. ”
Jax plays with the slice of lemon in his water and takes a long breath before continuing.
“At least he didn’t touch me. But my mother wasn’t as lucky.
I was the one who called the police one time to get him arrested.
Fuck, I still have nightmares because of that motherfucker. But he wasn’t the worst of them.”
Tears fall freely down my cheeks and I tighten my hold on his hand, showing my support as he continue his story.
“When he was gone, Trisha wanted to make a change. She started going to church and AA meetings.”
After meeting Trisha earlier today, I’m skeptical about her success with AA meetings. “How did that go?”
“You’d think that her getting her shit together for a moment was a great thing…
but it turns out it was the worst thing that ever happened to me.
In one of those meetings, she met Arnold, a recovering alcoholic like herself.
The first year was fine until Arnold decided to drink with his old buddies one day. ” He winces, rubbing his face.
“What went through your head just now?” I ask, squeezing his hand.
“I’m just thinking how I was drinking myself stupid when alcohol is the main reason my childhood was full of unfortunate events,” he admits and rubs his face more.
“You can drink sometimes, but if it starts to control your life, then we have a problem.”
“The thing is… I remember most of that night like it happened yesterday. It hurts to think how disastrous things could have ended up. Like I could be dead. Or I could be responsible for another person’s death—” His voice breaks, and he glances my way with such sadness that I haven’t seen often. I scoot closer so I can hug him.
Jax’s voice gets shaky as he speaks. “When Arnold moved towards me with that crazy gleam in his eyes, holding a baseball bat, I just knew what to do. He had spent the day drinking and told me how he wished I was dead. I was scared for my life. I knew I had to do something. I just…I—”
His tears fall on those high cheekbones I have admired many times, and his beautiful green eyes are red-rimmed.
“When he accidentally dropped the bat, I knew it was my moment to strike. I remember how the knife felt in my hand when I buried it in his stomach. How warm his blood was when it covered my hand. The metallic smell of it. Fuck, I remember how his loud grunts echoed around the house. How my—” He hiccups.
“—mother ran downstairs and started screaming before calling the police, telling them that her kid tried to kill her husband.”
I can’t hold in my sobs, and I cry as I hug Jax tightly. “I’m sorry, Jax. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Don’t be. It isn’t your fault, Soph.” Jax meets my gaze when I start to protest and shakes his head. “Stop it. Let me hug you to get the strength I need right now.”
“Okay.”
His head rests on my shoulder, his tears wetting my dress. We sit there, embracing each other until last call. Then we leave wordlessly for our hotel room.