9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
A s soon as the blade touched Carson’s arm, her phone rang, causing her to spasm and the knife to slice through her skin like butter. A curse escaped her lips, and she quickly ripped tissues one by one from the box sitting on top of her desk and pressed them firmly to her forearm.
What she should have been doing was taking advantage of an empty office to prepare a mediation brief or tackle the pile of cases on the corner of her desk. All day the blade she had stashed in her desk drawer had been flaunting its sharpness. Eventually, Carson was seduced by its tantalizing power, not having the patience to wait until she was well hidden behind the walls of her home.
The phone continued its shrills until she answered the incoming call.
“Hello?”
“Carson?”
“Jax?” Hearing his voice brought back the memory of kissing him the day before, causing tingles in her gut.
“Hey, do you have a second?” he asked.
Pulling the tissues away, she inspected her arm. Blood continued to pool and drip down her skin. A single droplet fell and splashed onto her pants, saturating the charcoal fabric.
“Shit.” The tingles vanished and Carson grabbed more tissues and pressed even harder, shooting pain up her arm and into her shoulder.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No. No. I just, uh, spilled something on myself.” It wasn’t technically a lie.
“Oh. I was calling to see if you would like to go out to dinner with me.”
“Tonight?”
“If that’s alright. I know it’s kind of last minute.”
The phone began to slip from between her cheek and shoulder. “Can you hold on a second?”
Without waiting for a reply, Carson leaned forward and let her phone fall on the desk with a thud. As the blood flow slowed, she discarded the wadded tissues and ripped out more, stacking them on her new cut. The tape dispenser zipped as she pulled a long piece of tape and wrapped it around her arm one, two, three times. It was a crude wound dressing, but it would have to do until she got home.
Shoving her arms back into her blazer, Carson ripped a few sheets of paper from her notepad and flung them into the trash. A sad effort to cover the massacre.
Before picking up the phone, she adjusted her blouse, smoothed down her hair, and straightened her spine.
“Sorry ‘bout that. What did you need?” Why was her voice so high? She cleared her throat.
Jax took a second before answering. “I was hoping you would have dinner . . . with me . . . tonight.” Each word he enunciated, similar to the way her colleague Dan would slow down his legal explanations when clients got blank expressions on their faces.
The reality of what had happened solidified, making Carson feel as though she’d been punched in the stomach, and her body sagged in her chair. Jax was calling to ask her to dinner, but she was focusing on her filthy habit instead.
“Yes, dinner,” she said, hoping it appeared that she was listening the first time he said it.
“Yes, you’ll have dinner with me tonight?” he repeated.
“No. I meant I understood.”
“So, no to dinner?”
Carson smacked a palm on her forehead and let it slide down her face, not caring if it smeared her mascara. Jax was going to think she was dumb by the time their conversation ended.
“I mean I can’t do dinner. I have plans.”
“I see,” he said slowly. “Maybe another time?”
The tingling returned. Something about being asked out on a date made her body buzz with energy. She recalled when Will wanted to go on a date with her. She had cringed then. Now, Jax asking, a smile grew on her face.
But the anticipation was quickly extinguished when she spotted something next to her heel. In her frenzy to answer the phone and stop the bleeding, the blade had fallen to the floor. As she watched, the red dots of her blood grew into a puddle, and the blade morphed into Luke, lying in a pool of his own blood.
She remembered that she shouldn’t be happy.
“Maybe,” she said.
They hung up, and Carson continued to glower down at the sleek, shiny steel. Then she stomped her foot on it, over and over. She wanted to stomp out her self-harm. Stomp out Luke’s dead face. Stomp out the absolute shitshow of her life. This was the reason she’d been denied the promotion.
“Leave me alone!” she cried.
Defiantly, she scooped up the knife, chucked it into the trash, and marched the trash bag to the dumpster behind the office building. Satisfied, she wiped her hands together and went straight back to her office.
It wasn’t a lie when she told Jax she had plans. She’d had a date with a kitchen knife. But not anymore. She had set a goal to gain freedom, and she was going to fight for it.
Jax answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Jax.”
“Carson?”
“My plans fell through. Still want to have dinner tonight?”
As Carson walked up the ramp that led to Barry’s Burgers and Shakes, she spotted Jax already sitting at a table in the middle of the dining area.
Earlier that day, on the phone, he had suggested they dine at a The Lakehouse which had cozy, quiet booths, dim lighting, and a seductive color palette. Something upscale and intimate. She wasn’t ready for intimate. Instead, she had proposed a more casual eatery with bright blues and whites. Barry’s Burgers and Shakes’ dining room was basically a large, enclosed porch; open and very public.
When Jax caught sight of Carson, he immediately stood. Blood pulsed throughout her body, making the cut on her arm throb. Except she didn’t mind the pain; it gave her satisfaction, which was disturbing. Self-inflicted pain shouldn’t please her the way it did, but in reality, it pacified and soothed her aching heart. The contradiction of it all gave her a headache.
Jax’s hair was damp, the ends flipping this way and that way. Looking suave, he certainly didn’t belong in a place that served fish sticks. As she reached the table, Carson was enveloped by the scents of soap, spices, and the invariably present dust. How was it a man could smell just like his truck?
He didn’t offer her a hug, or a handshake, but he did step around the table and pull the chair out for her.
“Mr. Hoover.”
“Jax.”
It had been one day since they had seen each other. One day since they’d raced dirt bikes across the Arizona desert. One day since they’d kissed.
All of Carson’s earlier bravado wavered. Jax probably thought she was crazy. First, she’d rejected his kiss, then kissed him not an hour later. When he’d asked her out, she’d said no. And within minutes, she’d called him back. No. Yes. Maybe. Never. Yes. No. Yes. She was going to give him whiplash.
He was clearly aware of her behavior. His cheek was twitching. Well, it was more like his lips were undecided if they wanted to smile or stay the way they were. Amused. That’s what he was.
A girl with a spotted, frayed apron wrapped around her tiny waist approached their table. “What can I start you off with tonight?”
“Water, please,” Carson ordered.
“I’ll have water as well,” Jax said.
The waitress scurried off, leaving two giant menus for them to peruse.
“How was your day off?” Carson asked as her eyes skimmed over the variety of meal options without really reading what they were. At the table beside her, a toddler started fussing because he wanted the red crayon his sibling had stolen from him. She smiled at the cute whimpers, wondering what her son would have sounded like at that age. If he were still alive, he would have been four-almost-five years old. He might even have a younger sibling to fight over a crayon with.
Jax clapped his menu shut. “Lazy. I mostly caught up on sleep.”
“Nothing exciting happened?”
“Nope.”
“Not even a solicitor at your door?”
“Not even a solicitor at my door.”
The waitress came back with their drinks. “Have you had a chance to look over the menus?”
Jax, with his menu flat on the table and hands resting on top, looked questioningly at Carson. She’d had a chance to look over the menu, but her nerves had made her blind. She glanced back down and ordered the first thing she saw, pork tacos and jasmine rice.
When the waitress left again, Jax leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. His black button-up shirt was tight against his biceps; his tattoo peeked out under his right sleeve. Carson knew just how firm those arms were.
“Any other filler questions you want to ask to break the ice?” he asked.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Your leg is shaking the table.”
Once Carson’s foot stopped bouncing, the ice inside their waters calmed. “Oh.”
She didn’t know what to do with her hands. First, they gripped the edge of the table. That was too tense. So she folded them on top. Too formal. Finally, she let them fall in her lap, drumming her fingers on her thighs.
Jax leaned forward and rested his forearms on top of the table. “Alright. What is your favorite animal?”
The beat of her finger drums stopped. “Serious?”
“Trust me. ”
Skeptical, Carson played along. “Fine. My favorite animal is a platypus.”
“The duck-beaver?”
“No, the platypus ,” she said. “What is your favorite animal?”
“The octopus.”
“Why an octopus?”
“Have you seen one? They’re cool.”
She grinned, and so did he. His plan was working.
“What is your favorite book?” he asked.
Placing an elbow on the edge of the table, Carson rested her chin in her palm. “It’s a children’s book. Well, a children’s series about a farm dog called Hank the Cowdog . I loved it so much, I always had one checked out from the library.” She reminisced on sneaking a flashlight into her room and squishing herself under her bed so she could read. How exciting and free it had been to learn about a dog who had unlimited access to the outdoors and friends who were there for each adventure. “I was always getting in trouble for staying up past my bedtime reading them.”
More than in trouble. One time, her mom caught her reading after dark and tossed the book out the window. It had rained that night. Carson had wept for three days over the death of that book. Worse, she’d had to use her own money to replace it in the school library.
“I don’t think I’ve read them since I was in elementary school,” she said. “I wonder if you can find them anymore. It’s been so long.”
A throaty laugh coming from the table behind Jax distracted her.
“Are your nerves feeling any better?” Jax asked, pulling back her attention and smoothing out the scowl lines that had grown on her face.
“A little.” She was still gnawing at her cheek, but she had a mission tonight. “Actually, I’m glad you called because there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
A thick, black eyebrow rose peaked with interest.
“I owe you an explanation about what happened in your truck yesterday.” A rush of embarrassment heated her cheeks. Don’t kiss me. Just kidding, kiss me.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said.
Carson shook her head. “But I do.” When Jax opened his mouth to protest, she lifted a hand to silence him. “I need you to listen for a minute because I need to explain myself. It’s not fair for me to act one way and then act the opposite five seconds later.”
“It wasn’t five seconds,” he countered.
She let out an excessive breath, a strand of her hair fluttered in front of her face. “I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
“What? Kiss me?”
“Yes.”
Jax sucked on his front teeth.
“I mean, no.” Again with the whiplash. “What I mean is, I told you I wasn’t ready and then I did what I said I wouldn’t do in the truck.” The memory of her lips on his and his firm grip on the back of her neck made her shiver.
“Kissed me,” he clarified.
“Yes . . . kissed you.”
A huge mound of food appeared in front of her face. “I have the pork tacos for you, ma’am, and the brisket-and-chuck-blend burger for you, sir.”
Crummy timing , thought Carson.
“Anything else I can get you two?” the waitress asked.
Jax didn’t take his eyes off Carson. “No, thank you,” he said, dismissing their server. Once she was gone, he continued, “Then why’d you kiss me if you weren’t ready? ”
The fluorescent lights drowned out the beautiful colors of a sunset turning into night. Carson knew that the deep burgundy sky was dulling into a slate gray. Still, she tried to see past the screens that covered the glass windows, thinking. Why had she kissed him? She had been asking herself that for the past twenty-four hours. It was impossible for her to decipher her own feelings, let alone define them to someone else.
“When I said I didn’t know if I was ready, I meant that,” she started slowly, her food untouched. “I honestly don’t know what I am. I’m not who you think I am. This isn’t me.” She rubbed her forehead with her palms. The sweet, tangy scent of mango salsa filled her nose. “When you tried to kiss me by the river, it caught me off guard because I wanted you to kiss me. My husband is dead, and I wanted another man to kiss me.”
Now she wished she had agreed to the other restaurant. Luke’s death was too sacred to be discussed in a place like this.
“I didn’t mean to make—” Jax started.
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” she interjected. “As soon as I turned away, I regretted it. I regretted it because I didn’t want to ruin what we . . . I kissed you in the truck because I wanted to.”
“Do you regret it?”
Jax’s voice was so quiet, almost as if he were afraid of her answer. Carson had to strain to hear his question.
“Regret the kiss?” she asked.
“Do you regret kissing me?”
She picked up her fork and pushed the rice around. Steam escaped from between the white kernels. “I don’t think I regret kissing you, but I don’t know what I think. This is all so confusing. I’m just amazed you don’t think I’m bat-shit crazy and still want to have dinner with me.”
He popped a fry in his mouth before he jokingly said, “I felt bad for you.”
She chuckled, and they dug into their awaiting dinner. Her corn tortillas instantly crumbled, their weak bodies unable to bear the generous serving of meat. She resorted to using her fork instead of chancing dropping food all over her lap. She could only stomach a few bites of rice and half a taco. Jax, on the other hand, devoured his entire burger and all of his fries. Only the remnants of juices and seasoning dirtied the tray’s paper. She wondered if it was because of his fireman appetite or if his mother had properly taught him to always eat all of his food.
Instead of bringing up the kiss again, he asked her about trivial things. She knew he was only asking these types of questions because he was giving her space. Letting her decide if it was more than just a first date.
The first date she’d ever had was boring. A simple dinner and movie. That wasn’t the boring part. First-dates were supposed to be full of nerves and giggles, but there’d been nothing.
When she and Luke had gone on their first date, it was extraordinary. Somehow, he’d managed to set up a table and candlelit dinner in a road median.
“Isn’t this illegal?” she had asked.
“Hell if I know.” Then Luke’s eyes darted toward the passing vehicles. “If you see red and blue lights and hear sirens, we should probably run.”
That night, the lawyer in her had researched loitering in road medians. She had laughed because the two of them had committed a misdemeanor.
What was this first date with Jax like? Nerves. Check. Excitement. Check. The opportunity for another date . . . Check. They hadn’t even finished their first date, and she was already thinking about a second one. Was that considered a small step or one very large step? She’d have to think about that .
But what would happen after the second date? A third? Then a fourth? Date after date after date. Same trivial topics. Same humdrum meals. At what point would she allow him to take her to a more romantic restaurant?
Romantic? Absolutely not. At least not right now. No. Not ever.
“Everything alright?”
Carson blinked, trying to remoisten her eyes which had been staring relentlessly at the swamp cooler in the corner window. She squared her slouching shoulders and looked timidly at Jax. The family beside her had left and was replaced by an old couple who were slurping their soup.
“Remember when I said I wasn’t ready?” she asked.
Scooting forward, Jax put his hand on top of hers. For a second, Carson thought he was going to push her sleeve up and confront her about her newest cut.
“This doesn’t have to be anything more than just a friendship,” he reaffirmed, although he was doing a poor job at hiding the regret in his voice.
She eyed their hands resting together on the tabletop. His touch was so hot, it burned her skin.
“That’s the confusing part,” she whispered. “I think I don’t want this to be just a friendship.”
There. She’d done it. She’d finally admitted to him the very foundation of her inner turmoil. The reason for her chaotic thoughts.
Carson West wanted a relationship with Jax Miller.
She interlaced her fingers with his. “I don’t understand how happy I am with you. I shouldn’t be happy. My family is dead, and I shouldn’t be happy.” Her voice broke. Her heart broke. Her walls broke.
Instead of responding, he squeezed her hand tighter. Not even trying to find the right words to say to her. All he did was touch her .
Oddly, this was exactly what she needed. For years, people tried to make her feel better with words. It was always “It’s going to be okay.” “You’re so strong.” “You’re going to make it through this.” Frankly, it was all bullshit. She wasn’t okay. She wasn’t strong. And she sure as hell was not making it through this. But she couldn’t blame them for their words. What else were they supposed to say to someone who was the sole survivor of a car accident? “Your entire family died, and now you’re going to suffer”?
No words were exchanged for seconds. Minutes. Long enough that the heat in her hand had subsided. Long enough that the plates were removed, and the bill was paid.
Jax’s silence was becoming suspicious. Then blood flooded her neck and cheeks. Oh no , Carson thought. What if, after all she had confessed, he was quiet because he didn’t feel the same way? But in the truck, he’d kissed her back, hadn’t he? Or had it just been her imagination? It had been so many years since she had kissed someone.
Except he’d invited her out to dinner. Then again, he’d said they didn’t have to be more than friends. Was that him friend-zoning her? Was she spilling her guts like a fool to someone who wasn’t receptive to it all?
“You haven’t said anything,” she blurted.
His face scrunched. “About what?”
“About what happened in the truck. About the kiss.” Our first kiss . “I mean I just told you I wanted to be in a relationship with you and you didn’t respond.”
He rested against the back of his chair, never letting go of her hand. “You haven’t given me a chance to say anything.” There it was again, his mouth twitching with even more mirth than before.
Her own mouth opened to argue except thinking back on all their conversations, she had interrupted him over and over again. “Oh. ”
“Am I allowed to talk now?”
She nodded.
“When I tried to kiss you by the river, I wasn’t thinking about your accident and what happened to Luke. I was caught in the moment. And I felt like a total asshole. When we were riding back to the truck, I knew that I needed to give you your space. Then you kissed me, and the way you kissed me said everything you’ve been trying to explain to me. I didn’t ask you to dinner because I expected something from you. I asked because I like being in your company.” He smirked at her. “You’re pretty cool.”
She blinked at his last statement. Cool? She was a total mess, and he thought she was cool? “Seriously?”
“The coolest.”
“You might be the crazy one,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“I think you’re more than just cool, Carson.” Jax’s deep-sea eyes caught fire, and flames spread to consume Carson’s attention. “I also don’t want this to be just a friendship.”
Ice froze her lungs. So Carson wasn’t imagining everything. Jax had feelings for her too. Suddenly, this scared her. A lot. All of her courage was gone. Disappeared. Goodbye.
She could never be with Jax. She could never be with anyone. Eventually they would want progression, and that meant exposure, mentally and physically. She could never open up to satisfy them—to satisfy Jax. And she couldn’t do that to him: a relationship with no next step, never moving forward, stagnant, keeping secrets, and telling lies. Would she do that to herself?
Why were they even talking about a relationship when Carson’s body and mind were so ugly? Jax deserved so much more.
Ripping her hand from his, Carson stood, the chair grating and making her ears recoil. “Please forgive me,” she stammered. “I should have never done this to you.”
Not waiting for a reply, she spun and rushed past the old couple, who were now sharing a piece of carrot cake, and dashed out the door. The tsunami wave that had unfolded over the past couple of days now swallowed her up, and she was drowning.
“Carson, wait!” Jax called from behind her, his footsteps thumping down the wooden ramp and into the parking lot. Before Carson could open her truck door, he caught her. “What do you mean? Done what to me?”
She whirled to find creases sitting between his eyebrows. His mouth was open, confused.
“Led you on. You don’t want someone like me.” Carson’s words shook, distorted with shame and self-hate.
“What’s going on?” Jax asked. When his hand extended out to her, she shrank away from it, cowering. “Did I say something?”
It was the pain in his voice that stopped her. Carson was already hurting him, and they hadn’t even begun. “I can’t give you what you want.”
The lines on Jax’s forehead grew larger. “How do you know what I want?”
“I know you wouldn’t want this.”
“If you’re implying I don’t want you, then you clearly don’t know what I want,” Jax said, his eyes narrowing.
“I come with too much baggage. Trust me, I’m not worth it.” She spat the words at him like her mother had done to her.
“Baggage?” He almost laughed. No, he did laugh. “You think I wouldn’t want to be with you because you have baggage? Everyone has baggage. I have baggage. I have a gold-digging ex-wife that will always fight for my money. I had a father who—who . . . I had gotten myself into some trouble. If anything, you shouldn’t want to be with me .”
Carson drew back, shocked that Jax thought he had baggage. That was all minuscule luggage compared to hers. A carry-on. A wallet.
Jax had no idea what she was talking about. Tempted to blurt out the real reason, Carson bit her tongue. Maybe the only way she could convince him was by showing him her mangled scars. She bit her tongue harder.
“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Jax said. “We just met. There doesn’t have to be expectations.”
She exhaled from her nose, warming the tip of it. “Eventually, you’re going to have expectations and needs that I won’t be able to give you.”
“You’re crossing a bridge that hasn’t been built. It may never be built.”
“It’s built in my mind.”
“Not in mine,” he growled, his nostrils flared with irritation.
Now it was a staring contest. Carson stood strong even against his blazing blue eyes. But Jax’s arms were crossed, protective. Had he grown taller? The shadows enveloped him as if he were their ruler and they were ready for his command.
Only, Carson was an attorney. Fighting battle after battle was her everyday job. Astuteness and intelligence were her weapons, sharp and ready. She was prepared to win.
Did she want to win, though? Did she want to leave, never giving Jax another thought? Her stomach tightened. She didn’t want to leave.
When she went to bite her cheek, she flinched. It was raw and sore. How much gnawing had she done tonight?
“I haven’t done this in a while,” she finally admitted. “Since . . .”
“I know,” Jax said softly.
Piece by piece, Carson’s armor fell away. She was no longer ready for war. She gripped her tiny necklace charm and pulled on the chain, the cool metal pressing into her neck. “Can you be patient with me?”
“We’ll just take it one step at a time and see what happens. Nothing more,” he said.
Small steps .
Carson took one of those small steps toward him. Then another. The muscles in her shoulders released the tension that had been building. Defenses lowered, Jax placed his hands on her elbows. She let him bring her closer until she was in his arms. The shadows surrounded her, too, ready to shield them from any outside force. What they didn’t know was that the enemy was from within.
It was a strange sensation, being in someone’s arms. It wasn’t as distressing as she had imagined it. His arms were the perfect size to nestle comfortably in. No matter how wrong it felt to be in another man’s arms, it felt right to be in his.
One step closer to freedom .
“I feel really idiotic,” Carson said, her voice was muffled from the fabric of his shirt.
Jax snorted. “Why?”
“For leaving you in the restaurant like that. I’m the asshole.”
“Hey.” Jax guided her chin with the knuckle of his forefinger until she was looking up at his stern face. “You’re dealing with a lot right now.”
“It doesn’t excuse the way I behaved.”
Jax shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect.”
Carson thought about the night he’d taken her to urgent care and what he’d said to her.
“You don’t owe me anything anymore,” she said.
“Owe you? ”
“For hitting my head with the door. You’ve made it up to me, so you don’t owe me anything anymore.”
Jax gently kissed the crown of Carson’s forehead, precisely where her only visible scar lay. “Whatever you say, Mr. Hoover.”