15. Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
W ith every slice of the blade, Carson trembled with regret, but her hand continued to slash away at the skin on her upper forearm. One, two, three swipes. The blood began to seep out. She was only vaguely aware of the massacre before her, perfect for All Hallow’s Eve.
Hunched on the floor of her bathroom, with a razor blade pinched between her fingers, she saw red splatters of blood all around her. The pain was burning, an intense fire on her skin. The blood was hot, like lava. She loved it. Desired it. Yearned for it.
Attraction .
Like a long pull of a cigarette after a stressful day, Carson leaned her head back and let the pain envelope her. The room pulsated with euphoric energy as her blood dripped onto the floor.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
She was weightless. Just as the clouds in the sky. Floating and free.
Gravity took over when she noticed the time on the clock hanging just above the bathtub. Jax would be arriving any second.
“Shit!”
How long had she been in this stupor? Flicking the bloody blade from her fingers, Carson jerked away as if it had just bitten her. She hissed at the new pain in her arm, no longer a pleasurable ache.
Repulsion .
Almost ripping the rod from the wall, she yanked a towel off the rack and pressed it to her arm with as much pressure as she could. Lifting her wrist to her shoulder, she was able to hold the towel in place while she hurriedly shoved the razor into a drawer, hiding it beneath the makeup clutter, and wiped up the blood with another rag.
Sprinting into the laundry room, Carson threw the two towels into the washing machine, not caring there was freshly washed clothes still in there, waiting to be transferred to the dryer. She activated the rinse-and-spin cycle to wash away the remaining evidence.
The bleeding didn’t stop. Dashing back into her bathroom, she knocked every item out from the cupboard under the sink to find her first-aid kit. Just as she was cleaning the excess blood from her skin, there was a knock on the door. Her heart lurched into her throat, choking her.
“One second!” Carson yelled, her voice was shaking with panic. She needed to get herself under control.
There was no time to properly bandage her arm. Slapping on a large Band-Aid, she shoved everything back in the cupboard and pulled down her sleeves. It would have to do until she could sneak back into her bathroom and apply a more substantive dressing.
Before opening the door, she took in three deep breaths to calm her frazzled nerves. Air in. Air out. She could do this.
Jax was waiting patiently for her on the porch with a plastic grocery bag hanging from his hand. Against the desert backdrop, he looked handsome in a black polo and gray slacks. Carson grinned at his choice of shoes—Vans—wondering what her boss, his attorney, Garrett, had thought about them in the courtroom.
“Sorry, I meant to unlock the door for you,” Carson lied, stepping to the side to let him in. She wasn’t sorry at all about the door being locked. As if to show she wasn’t hiding anything, she pointed to the flowerpot on the edge of the porch. “There’s a spare key under there.”
Confirming she was losing her touch, her voice continued to quiver, unable to go from one world to another.
Giving only a glance at the flora, Jax stepped up, gave her a peck on the lips—could he taste the lies there?—and walked into the kitchen. The bag’s contents spilled out when he set it on the counter. A variety of sprinkles, frostings, and cookie dough. Decorating cookies to celebrate Halloween wasn’t her thing, but she’d agreed anyway when he’d suggested it.
“So?” Carson pressed.
Jax’s eyes flashed a brilliant aqua before a giant grin split his face in half.
“Does that mean you won?” she guessed.
His smile grew impossibly bigger. “I won.”
Carson’s squeal echoed in the kitchen, and she flung herself into his arms, mindful of her injury. Jax had to step back to brace for impact. For a second, Carson forgot all about her sins, leaving them in the bathroom.
“I told you you had a chance. I knew it.” She kissed him, elated for his victory and relieved for his freedom from his ex-wife. For the first time, she appreciated the length of his hair as she could grip his inky mane between her fingers to better pull him closer to her.
Unexpectedly, Jax hoisted her up and sat her on the kitchen island. When his hands dropped down to her waist, she strategically guided them away from her scars and placed them on her neck.
Desperate to know what happened, Carson broke away from his lips. “Tell me everything. ”
“It was going pretty much the same as the first trial we had,” he began. “Then, when Kristen was on the stand, she said she quit her job.”
“She quit her job?”
“To claim disability.”
“ What? ” Carson said, voice rising with surprise.
“It was the first time we had heard about it. She alleged that being a hairdresser did something to her wrist.”
“But she only worked at the salon for a few months.”
Jax gave Carson a pointed look.
“The judge caught that, didn’t he?”
Nodding, he said, “If only you had been there. The look on Kristen’s face when the judge ruled that I didn’t have to pay her anymore.”
“I know,” Carson said, kissing the top of his hands. “But it was better for everyone if I stayed completely out of your case. The judge knows me, and it would not have looked good if I was sitting in the back as the girlfriend.”
“I know, I know,” Jax said. “I agree with you and Mr. Hoover on that. But still—”
“But still , you won, and we should celebrate.” Carson pushed him out of the way so she could slip off the counter to preheat the oven.
Jax peered out the French windows that took up the entire living wall. Beyond the glass, nothing but dirt and curly, grama grass rolled like gilded waves for miles and miles. “Do you get trick-or-treaters?” he asked.
“Not since I’ve lived here.”
“You have a nice place,” he said, glancing around the kitchen and living room.
Carson had forgotten this was his first time inside her house, as she had been deliberate in keeping him at a distance. “Thank you. I bought it as a fixer-upper. After the accident, I had a lot of free time on my hands, so I found myself a project.”
Jax joined Carson by the oven and wrapped her in a hug. “It looks wonderful,” he said, before kissing the crown of her forehead.
“This is so lame,” Carson whined, while attempting to make a witch’s hat with the violet sprinkles.
Jax leaned over to inspect her work. “What’s lame is that cookie of yours.”
Mouth popping open, Carson shot him a glare. “How dare you diss my cookie,” she said.
He shrugged. “I’m just saying, my two nephews have decorated cookies better than you, and they’re five.”
Glancing down at his treat—a blob of sugar paste and bat-shaped sprinkles—Carson pressed her finger right in the middle of it.
“Hey!” he yipped.
The mischievous look spreading across his face cut her giggling short. In the corner of her eye, she caught him dipping his finger in the lime-green frosting.
“No!” Carson shrieked, twisting off the stool, but she was too slow, and he caught her arm before she could escape.
He grabbed the wrong arm.
As Jax’s fingers dug into her fresh cuts, Carson cried out in pain, the debilitating stinging shooting up and down her arm. It felt like a lightning strike.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, all playfulness gone, dropping her arm. Then he noticed the blood seeping through the fabric of her shirt.
“You’re bleeding,” he said.
Before she could pull away, Jax snatched her arm and yanked up her sleeve. Instantly, she ripped it back and shielded it behind her body. But, it was too late.
“Carson . . . give me your arm.”
A flurry of curses filled her mind. Wiping the frosting from his finger, Jax took a step closer to her, and she took a step back.
“Give. Me. Your. Arm. Now.”
When Carson didn’t move, didn’t budge an inch, he reached around to grab her arm himself. She didn’t resist. What was the point of hiding anymore?
Carefully, Jax stretched her arm straight and gripped the edge of her sleeve. Slowly, slowly , he pushed the fabric up. When he noticed the lines didn’t stop at the Band-Aid he pushed her sleeve even higher, higher, higher up her arm.
He had unveiled her deepest secret.
Her disgraceful habit.
Her drug.
It was as though a ton of bricks had come crashing down from the ceiling, the weight of the moment crushing her. Every fiber of Carson’s being wanted to run and hide under a rock where nobody could find her. She was appalled at herself, appalled that Jax had found out. Would it make it worse if she pulled away and sprinted out the door?
She wanted to vomit. Heave out the horror of this moment. Because of her selfishness, Jax had escaped from one problematic woman only to gain another .
His silence was screaming in her ears, but she didn’t dare look up at his face, afraid of what she would see. Anger. Disgust. Disappointment. Repulsion . The same emotions she was feeling for herself.
After a minute or an eternity, she didn’t know which, Jax slid his hands down to hers.
“Where’s your first-aid kit?” he asked.
As Carson led him to her bathroom, he never let go of her hands. Not even when he bent down to retrieve the box of medical supplies.
Neither spoke while he cleaned and dressed her wounds with skill gleaned from years of first-aid training. Even after he had finished, Carson body continued to quiver.
This was it. It was over.
To her surprise, Jax pulled her close and wrapped his arms firmly around her. She didn’t dare speak, dare move. Was he giving her one last goodbye?
How could she have let this happen? Let him see the part of her that she hated the most. For years, Carson had been so meticulous in making sure no one ever found out.
She had grown too comfortable.
She had become sloppy.
Eventually, her body ceased shaking. That was when he let her go and lifted her chin.
“Why?”
It was a simple question, but with a complicated answer. Carson tried to look away but Jax’s grip was firm.
“Why?” he asked again.
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I’m so sorry,” was all she could say.
“That didn’t answer my question.”
This time, Jax let her go when she tried to pull away and she buried her face into her hands, her stomach sinking even lower. How does one explain to another the reason they cut themselves?
“Please tell me,” he insisted quietly.
She dropped her hands but didn’t answer him. Her voice was lost in her humiliation.
“Do you cut because of Luke and your baby?”
Carson’s mind spun. The room spun. Everything was spinning.
“I understand if you want to leave.” Her voice was monotone, like a robot.
He sighed, his eyes looking at something behind her.
“I didn’t mean for you to see,” she whispered.
“Does anyone else know?” he asked, focusing back on her.
She shook her head. This had to stop. She needed to stop.
“Are there more?”
“More scars?”
“Yes, more scars.”
She stared at him for a long time, thinking about the white lines that littered parts of her body. Her cheek started to grow numb as she chewed and chewed and chewed.
Defeated, she nodded.
“May I?” Jax asked.
Strength withering away, she grunted permission.
Lifting her other arm, Jax shifted the sleeve to examine it. Line after line. Crosshatch after crosshatch. Like a series of railroad tracks.
Then he stepped back to gently lift the fabric of her shirt and expose her stomach. He sucked in a breath through his teeth.
As he continued to lift her shirt higher to view her ribcage, Carson closed her eyes. What did it all look like to him? Dozens of faded white, pink, and red scars scattered on her torso mixed with fresh ones. A few of them Jax traced with his finger, the thicker lines that had caused the most damage. His touch sent a ripple of goosebumps down her body.
“Please don’t leave me,” Carson pleaded as a single tear dropped down her cheek. Surely he would want to leave, because who would want to be with someone like her?
Dropping her shirt, Jax placed his big hands on either side of her neck. She grabbed his wrists as much for support as to keep him there. He wiped Carson’s tear away with his thumb.
“I won’t,” he said.
Then he pulled her in for another embrace. Carson’s heart swelled, filling her chest cavity with so many emotions. Shock, because he hadn’t run at the first sight of her hideousness. Embarrassment that he’d found out. Relief that she no longer carried this secret on her own. Then guilt, for forcing this burden on another.
She peered up at his face, and he pressed his lips on her forehead, on the scar that hadn’t been caused by her.
“Are you mad at me?” Carson asked, weakly.
The question made Jax take a breath and uncurl his arms to look directly at her. “No, I’m not mad. I’m horrified that you feel the need to hurt yourself.” He grabbed one of her arms, eyes trailing up and down the scars. Carson’s insides twisted; she wasn’t used to being so exposed. “I feel awful that I didn’t notice it sooner so I could help you sooner.” He rubbed his thumb under one of the white lines.
She put her hand on top of his. “Please don’t say that. This isn’t your fault.”
“Then let me help you through this,” he begged. “You’re going to get help. You understand that, right?”
Feeling like she was beyond help, she faltered.
“You can’t keep doing this to yourself anymore.”
Now Carson really hesitated. “I don’t know if I can stop.”
As though he understood what she meant, he pondered on her statement before asking, “What can I do to help?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know where to begin.” Carson stepped back until she was leaning on the bathroom sink.
“Have you tried talking to someone? Like your doctor or anyone?”
“I tried.” She looked at Jax, then down at her bare feet. “After you told me about your drinking, I made an appointment with a therapist. I thought if you could stop drinking, I could stop cutting. I never ended up going, though.” She recalled the blah-building and its blah-colors.
“Why?”
Her shoulders bounced up and down. “I don’t know. I guess I’m not convinced it will help.”
“Then it might be a good place to start.”
Carson stood in a hallway of mirrors. Her naked body reflected back at her in hundreds of different angles. Her ivory skin was bright, beautiful, scarless. Taking a step toward the nearest reflection, she reached out to touch the cold silver. When she drew closer, three scars formed on her abdomen. They were thick and ugly, making her look disfigured.
She hated them. Hated what they were. Hated what they meant.
A blade appeared in her hand. She knew what she had to do to never have to look at those three scars again—
It was difficult to open her eyes because her head was so heavy, as if all the strength had been sucked out of her as she slept. Carson didn’t know when she’d eventually fallen asleep. After Jax had discovered the lines all over her body, he’d sat her on the couch, wrapped her in a blanket, and placed a plate of cookies in her lap. Together, they’d eaten their sweets and watched Beetlejuice . That was all she could remember.
Finally, her eyelids fluttered open. The ceiling fan’s monotonous, rotating blades filled her vision. She was in her room. Her fingers crept along her bedding. Empty.
It took every muscle she had to sit up, patting down the lumps of her comforter and frowning. Where was Jax? Her heart, which was already at the bottom of her ribcage, sank into her stomach. Did he leave?
Tiptoeing down the hall to the living room, Carson’s footsteps were as quiet as a desert mouse. A human-shape lump was sprawled out on her couch, which was much longer than what the sofa had to offer. Her favorite fuzzy blanket was trying its best to cover Jax’s huge frame. Though there was no pillow to cushion his head, and he was still wearing the clothes from the day before, and his feet hung over the end of the armrest, he looked peaceful. Carson wondered if Jax’s firefighter experience had taught him to sleep under any condition.
Pivoting on her foot, she stalked back to her bathroom. Judging by the early morning sunlight streaming through the windows, she had enough time to shower before work—to wash away the shame of the night before.
No reflection looked back at her as she brushed her teeth, the steam having fogged up the mirror. Good. She didn’t need a reminder of her dream. As she stripped off her shirt, Carson noted the bandage that continued to hug her arm, reminding her of Jax’s tender touches .
She let out a frustrated sigh. What had she done?
There was a light knock on the door. Scooping up her shirt, Carson slipped it on before opening it.
Jax took a step back, as though he hadn’t expected it to open so quickly. “I didn’t know you were . . .” His eyes flicked to the running water behind her and back again. “I wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”
The memory of his patience and understanding the night before solidified. Carson nuzzled up to him, wanting to feel it all again. Gladly he took her into his arms.
“I’m fine,” she breathed into his chest. And she was. Having her secret exposed gave her a glimmer of hope. Now that Jax knew, all those possibilities she had refused to dream about before filled her mind. They made her stomach tingle with excitement. Could she start this new life with him? Could they have a future together?
Then she realized something that had been forming in her very soul, from the very moment they met, waiting for the right moment to appear.
Carson pulled away to look into Jax’s face.
“I love you, Jax Miller.”
His eyes caught fire, and once again Carson was engulfed in his flames. “I love you too, Carson West.”
Then Jax gripped her face and kissed her. Hard . She wound her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to his body. Before she knew it, she was sitting on the bathroom sink, knocking over the soap dispenser and perfumes. It didn’t matter, because she was too busy thinking about the way her body was pinned between the mirror and his lips, which were greedy against hers.
Something was different in the way he was kissing her, as if every kiss before this moment had been on her terms. Now it was Jax’s turn. He was in control, and he was hungry. He leaned on the foggy mirror, leaving a handprint, as his other hand slid up her thigh and crept under her shirt, higher and higher.
Instinct screamed at Carson to recoil from his touch. Her marred skin was forbidden territory. Only this time, she allowed his fingers to trespass.
As Jax’s kisses migrated down her neck, she panted for air, working her own fingers into his long locks. Then he was back at her mouth, which gave her the opportunity to take his bottom lip between her teeth and bite it.
Jax snarled and scooped her up, marching them out of the bathroom, shower forgotten. They fell onto her unkempt bed. The motion made her arm sting. Carson ignored it, because her body yearned for him, her skin burning where he touched her.
She needed more.
In one smooth motion they rolled until she was on top, straddling his hips. She quickly unbuttoned his pants before he sat up and ripped his shirt off, the fabric landing somewhere on the carpet.
A wave of vulnerability washed over her, causing her to hesitate before pulling off her own shirt. This was it. Her hideousness was completely out in the open. Once her shirt was removed, the air felt cold against her bare skin, puckering the scars.
Jax’s eyes raked over her. Then he took her arm, the one without the bandage, and began kissing the scars all the way up until he reached her shoulder. Little by little, Carson’s insecurity vanished every time his lips touched a line. Then he snaked his arms around her, sliding his coarse hands against her bumpy skin until his fingers were laced in her hair.
Without warning, he clutched a handful of it and yanked her head back. Carson let out a gasp. With more of her neck exposed, Jax’s lips trailed down her sternum and back up. Gently, his lower lip glided across her collarbone.
“I love you,” Jax whispered, causing the hair on her neck to rise. “I love you,” he repeated over and over with a kiss at the end of each one. He spoke those three words as if he had been holding them back this whole time. Eventually, his mouth found hers again.
Carson was late to work.