10. Chapter 10
Chapter ten
A drenaline surged through Carson’s veins, propelling her forward as she stumbled away from the demolished car and toward Luke’s dead body that lay in the middle of the intersection. Kneeling on the wet asphalt she took a moment before placing her hand on the blanket covering him. No matter how many times she had dreamed about the accident, she always, always hesitated at this moment.
With one hand she ripped back the fabric. Blood and death lay before her. Luke’s eyes were open, blankly staring up at the stormy sky that swirled above them. The color of Luke’s eyes stopped her screams. The brown had been replaced with blue. Sapphire blue.
Then Luke’s face shifted into another’s. It was now Jax, with the same scrapes and bruises. His fire uniform was torn and ripped, exposing parts of his torso. But that wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be the one dead. He wasn’t supposed to be in this dream at all. Of course Carson’s subconscious would do this to her.
Except he was in the dream—no, not the dream, but at the accident. Jax had been the one who pulled her off Luke’s lifeless form—
Hands grabbed her, dragging her away from Jax, who was supposed to be Luke. Carson clawed at the arms that restrained her, leaving deep canyons in their skin with her nails .
“Let me go! Luke! Wake up! Luke!” Her cries echoed around the intersection.
“Hey, hey, hey. Shhh,” Jax’s voice pleaded, trying to subdue her screams. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Yes. This was where Jax was supposed to be, cradling her as she sobbed into his shoulder.
As she was pulled farther and farther away, Luke’s body grew smaller and smaller. Eventually, Carson’s arms grew heavy and tired from reaching out to him. She stopped and latched onto Jax, who was lowering her onto the awaiting stretcher, which might as well have been a coffin. Restraints were strapped across her body, yet she could only focus on Jax.
“Please,” she whispered.
People bustled around them as Jax hovered over her. His hand was in hers. Grip just as desperate. It was plain on his face that this wasn’t her nightmare. It was horrifically real—
The gasp violently attacked Carson’s lungs when she awoke. She couldn’t breathe. Air. She needed air. But she was still in the clutches of the arms that tore her away from Luke. Disoriented, she twisted and writhed until she realized she was contorted in her own blankets.
Gathering herself, she unfolded her limbs from the silks and plopped onto the floor. For whatever reason, the air seemed thinner and fresher near the carpet. But that didn’t dispel the dream still playing in her head.
He had been there.
So many first responders rushed to do their jobs. Jax’s job was to take care of her.
Jax had been there.
Two days ago, when they’d ridden dirt bikes down by the river, he had asked about Luke. But Carson had never said Luke’s name in front of him before. How else would he know?
Because Jax had been there .
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Carson’s thunderous fist against the front door broke the quiet morning of the neighborhood. The lizard on the wooden railing waiting for the warmth of the sun, scurried away. It probably would have been a smart idea to have peeked in the garage window for Jax’s truck to confirm that he was home before she knocked.
After she had collected herself from the nightmare, she’d snuck into the office, riffled through the file cabinet stuffed with client folders until she found “MILLER-Jax,” and tapped his address into her phone. She needed to confront him. She needed to know the truth.
If Jax really had responded to her accident, then he would have witnessed her in her most vulnerable state. Carson wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was unnerving for him to know the moment that had completely shattered her world but not say anything for the past two months, not even during dinner last night.
A Texas flag hung lazily off the front porch. Jax was from Texas, right? Hadn’t the auctioneer mentioned something about Texas and big . . .
A gulp slid down Carson’s throat. This had to be the right place.
Still no answer. Again, she thumped her closed fist against the door. Was he on shift? She didn’t think so. It would have been better to have sent a text or called him instead of showing up to his house, slamming on the door at the crack of dawn. But she needed to talk to him in person. This wasn’t something to text about.
The door swung wide open, creaking on its hinges. Jax’s hair was wild and restless. He rubbed the palm of his hand against one eye, while the other was a thin slit against the morning sun.
He was also shirtless. The tattooed octopus on his shoulder greeted her good morning. His gray sweatpants were barely hugging his hips. They looked like they would fall off at any moment. Carson’s vision trailed down his abs to the v-lines just below his waist. She gulped again.
“Carson?” His voice was gruff, sleepy, like he hadn’t had a chance to clear his throat of snores and dreams.
“Were you there?” Carson asked, getting right to the point. No reason to waste time.
It was clear Jax didn’t need an explanation, as his hand dropped from his face and he stepped aside, motioning for her to enter.
Marching past him, Carson entered his living room. A ridiculously large flat screen hung on the wall to her left. A cord like a skinny tail from the bottom was wedged into an outlet. Surprisingly, his house didn’t smell like the dust she’d expected. Instead, the smell reminded her of the carpet section at Home Depot. When she turned to face him, a muddy pair of boots sat on the floor next to the front door and dozens of keys overfilled a single hook hanging on the wall.
After shutting the door, Jax moved to a graphite-colored sectional against the opposite wall of the television and sat on the edge of the cushions. His movements were slow. He hunched forward and leaned his elbows on his knees for support, as if some unseen burden was weighing him down.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Carson asked, her voice barely audible.
He waited a moment, eyes on the floor, before looking up. “I didn’t recognize who you were at first. It wasn’t until that night at the auction, when you told me that your husband and son were killed in a car accident, that I figured it out. It was clear you didn’t recognize me either. I never felt it was right to remind you.”
Remind? Carson thought about the accident every second of every day.
Though her stomach was still in knots, Carson closed the distance between them and lowered herself onto the couch. “I always wondered why you never asked questions like everyone else does. Now it makes sense. You already knew.”
Jax didn’t respond, breaking eye contact with her. The wooden coffee table in front of them seemed to have him in a trance. Its deep hickory stain filled the hundreds of crevasses in the blemished wood. Only two remotes and a duck-hunting magazine littered the surface.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, after a moment.
She picked at a fuzz on her knee. When she’d left her house, she hadn’t bothered changing out of her pajamas. Her ratty, plaid pants were well worn, the color faded, and she wore an oversized shirt that had been Luke’s. The sleeves hung well past her fingertips. She had shoved her feet into the first pair of shoes she could find: flip-flops.
“I don’t understand why it has taken me so long to recognize you,” Carson finally said, sliding a hand over her unbrushed hair.
“What made you remember?”
“A dream.”
“A dream?” Jax repeated.
“I dream a lot about what happened.”
“So, a nightmare?”
“You could say that.” Jax could never imagine the actual nightmare of those dreams .
Lifting a hand to rub his jaw, Jax breathed in once and let it out. “We were called to the scene for vehicle extraction because you were trapped in the car. When we arrived, another engine was already tending to you.”
Loud drumming filled Carson’s ears as he told the story, making it hard to hear him. It took her a moment to realize it was her thudding heart.
“When I first saw the car, I couldn’t believe anyone was still alive,” Jax continued. “When a semi-truck that large hits a car that small . . . Then I saw you. The car mangled around you. It took us twenty-seven minutes to get you out.”
Then Jax grimaced. “You suddenly became alert and began running when we tried to put you on the stretcher. We didn’t even get the chance to put the neck brace on you.”
Internally she recoiled, thinking about why she had become alert. Again, Luke’s body covered with the blue blanket haunted her mind.
“It took three grown men to pick you up,” Jax whispered, deep in memory. “Finally, you clung to me. It was the first time in my career I hadn’t known what to do. I felt so helpless watching what was happening before me.” Blinking, he focused back on her. She had not moved, had not taken a breath. “You were so broken. Your body shouldn’t have been able to move like that. We figured it was from adrenaline.”
“The doctor said my brain didn’t understand that I’d been hurt,” Carson confirmed.
“Then when they put you in the ambulance”—he swallowed—“you started screaming about . . . about . . .”
“My baby.” Carson finished for him, shocked at the ease of her words.
Again, Jax’s gaze wandered to the coffee table, absentmindedly nodding. “At first, I thought you meant there was a child in the car. Then I overheard you tell the EMT you were pregnant. ”
That was the moment Carson’s world had crumpled all around her. As soon as she was wheeled into the ambulance a shearing pain had ripped through her abdomen. It felt as though a chainsaw was cutting her in half. The EMT had promised her baby would be fine, but Carson had known she had not only lost Luke, but her son as well.
Her brain tried to digest this information as they sat in somber, contemplative silence. It was so strange to hear about the wreck from another perspective.
Chewing on her thumbnail, Carson’s eyes wandered around the interior of Jax’s home. A short, wood bookcase was shoved in the corner. Its shelves held DVDs, a row of wooden ducks, and a portable Bluetooth speaker. In the kitchen on her right, a loaf of bread sat near the sink, next to a nearly empty roll of paper towels. A collection of knives were mounted to the wall under a cupboard. Butcher. Chef’s. Boning. Filet. Was that a cleaver? Carson wondered if Jax was a cook. What would those blades feel like against her skin . . .
“I’ve thought about you a lot over the years,” Jax said, breaking the silence. “I wondered what had happened to you and how you were doing.”
Carson pictured her mutilated body, the scars, and the years’ worth of self-inflicted pain. She thought about when she’d fled the restaurant the night before, fled from their conversation.
Then she thought about Jax, knowing about her accident and how traumatic it had been for her. It made her uneasy just how much he knew.
And his excuse of not telling her because he didn’t want to remind her continued to not sit well either. Deep down, Carson felt he should have said something. He should have confessed. Instead, he’d left her completely oblivious to his part in all of it.
What other secrets was he keeping? Did he know about her self-harm as well? Had he somehow pieced together her idiosyncrasies and conclude that she was cutting herself? Her stomach twisted harder and harder as her skin seemed to crawl with scorpions. It was unsettling.
Not even Raegan knew Carson’s secret. She and Hunter knew Luke was killed on impact, and that Carson had miscarried on the way to the hospital. What they didn’t know was that Luke had been thrown from the car and Carson had tried to run to him after being freed from the wreckage. That she had been pulled from Luke’s dead body. That she takes sharp items and butchers her skin.
Now it felt like she didn’t have control anymore. Jax had put a chink in her armor, and it left her overwhelmed and agitated. If Carson had known this would happen, she would have done a better job at hiding how screwed up she was.
“I think you should have told me when you remembered,” Carson finally admitted as her leg bounced and bounced and bounced. “You’ve let me believe otherwise for almost two months.”
Jax winced. “When we walked to your truck after the auction, I was trying to figure out the best way to tell you, but I just couldn’t.”
“Because you didn’t want to remind me about the day my family died?” The bluntness of Carson’s words made his shoulders sink lower, but she continued anyway. “I think about it all the time, Jax.”
“I should have said something, I know. I’m not . . .” Jax leaned back against the couch, clutching fists full of hair for a second before letting his hands fall into his lap. He tilted his head back, his eyes staring at the ceiling. “I’m not good at . . .” A frown touched his face, as though he was troubled with the words in his mouth. “Conflict.” Looking back at her, he continued, “Conflict isn’t the right word. I have a tendency to avoid anything that is contentious. There’s so much tension and stress at work, I don’t want to deal with it in my personal life too.” Then he let out a single gust of air that sounded like a laugh but excluded the humor. “Why I married Kristen, I don’t know, because she was very dramatic.”
Sitting upright, Jax took Carson’s hands and held them tightly. “I should have confessed that night. I realize that now. I was thinking about myself and my feelings. I should have been thinking about you and yours.” He lifted his hand and placed it on her cheek. “I am sorry about what happened to you that day. And I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything.”
The intensity emanating from his eyes felt to Carson like a blanket being wrapped around her during a snowstorm. It was easy to understand his position, his sincerity, his regret. Plus, Carson was holding onto her own secrets. Who was she to get upset with him having some of his own? And if he had any suspicion about the scars on her body, the conversation would have gone completely differently.
Maybe, just maybe, Jax being at her accident would give him better insight into who she was or why she did the things that she did. Self-harm included. Finally, the frost that had taken over her body began to melt, and she could breathe again. This could be a good thing.
Leaning forward, Carson touched her forehead to his. “Thank you,” she whispered.
At her words, she could feel the stress leave Jax’s body. Stress that may have been cemented in his bones for weeks.
“I really am sorry, Carson.”
Pulling away just enough to look at Jax’s face, Carson smiled, then leaned forward once more to kiss his lips. She was interrupted by a sudden squealing buzzer.
Snatching her phone from her pocket, Carson muted the alarm with a curse. “I’m going to be late for work.” As soon as she stood up, Jax tugged her back down.
“Gross, adulting. Why don’t you call in, and we can finish what we started?” he teased, inching forward to steal another kiss.
A day off work sounded enticing and spending it with Jax was even more exhilarating. But she had a job to do.
“Playing hooky wouldn’t look good for the promotion I’m trying to get.” Carson wiggled her hand from his and headed for the front door.
“A promotion?” he asked, following suit.
“I’m attempting to become junior partner.” Attempting. Trying. Wishing. Praying. Whatever it took. She wasn’t going to give up.
As she gripped the door handle Jax placed his hand over hers and twisted it with her. Anywhere his skin touched made hers hum with electricity.
“That’s really awesome,” he said, opening the door.
“Thanks. I’m sorry I have to go.” Carson stepped onto the porch. The sun had risen fully past the horizon. Birds were singing its praises.
“No worries.”
“What are you doing Friday night?” she asked.
He leaned on the doorframe, filling it with his height, arms crossed over his bare chest.
“I’m on shift until five. So, don’t know. What are we doing Friday night?”
“I’m going out to dinner with Raegan and Hunter. You should join us.”
Jax flashed a grin, making her heart skip with anticipation. “Double date it is.”