24. Chapter Twenty-Four #2
I grab a beer, twist off the cap, and head back to the living room. I drop into the armchair across from her, where I can watch without looking as though it’s exactly what I’m doing.
The room grows more quieter than it should.
Jax looks at me.
Jett looks at me.
I direct a gaze at both of them. “What?”
“Where are ours?” Jax asks, staring at the beer in my hand.
I glance down at the three empty bottles on the table. Fuck. They must have started drinking while they waited for Wills and I to arrive.
I lift my beer to my mouth. “Cruz, while you’re standing there, grab these two fuckheads another beer.”
Cruz doesn’t move. “You have two working legs.”
“So does a table. I don’t see that fetching drinks either.”
Cruz sighs and heads toward the kitchen.
I take a long drink and look at Willow. She is smiling.
The three assholes are still talking shit. But I don’t hear any of it. All I see is her.
Cruz returns, handing out the beers.
For a while, the apartment becomes something close to warm.
Willow sits with a plate on her lap, eating a little while the guys talk over one another. I remain silent, allowing them to dominate the conversation, observing her eyes light up each time she finds something amusing.
They love her. But not the way I do. Thank fuck for that, because I’m possessive enough when I am behaving. But they love her.
So I sit here and let her have the room. No stage or spotlight. No need for me to drag every eye back where I am used to having it.
For once, I don’t want to own the moment. I just want to watch her live inside it.
The guys know I’ve changed since the hospital.
They have said nothing about it, but still they questioned me about Wills during our daily phone calls on tour.
I can see it in the way Cruz studies every move I make. It’s as if he is waiting for the old me to crawl back out and prove this was all just guilt wearing better clothes.
I know it too. Something inside me cracked and whatever grew back in its place does not fit the life I had before.
Later, while Willow is halfway through telling Jett about her rehab routine, Cruz catches my eye from near the kitchen.
“Phoenix,” he says casually. “Help me grab more drinks.”
There are already drinks on the counter. Fresh, open ones. Enough to keep Jax loud until Christmas.
Cruz sees them. I see him seeing them. So whatever this is about has nothing to do with drinks.
I set my beer down and stand anyway.
Willow glances between us, but Cruz is already heading to the kitchen.
I follow because he has earned the right to say whatever he wants to say.
We move far enough from the living room that the voices blur behind us. Jax says something obnoxious. Willow tells him he is unbearable.
Cruz opens the fridge, stares inside, and takes out absolutely fucking nothing before closing it again.
Real Subtle.
I lean back against the counter, folding my arms. “You drag me in here to admire the condiments?”
He turns to face me and I see the charm has gone.
“If you fuck with her again, I’ll kick your fucking ass.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think you fucking do.” He steps closer, keeping his voice low enough that the others won’t hear. “I watched her disappear after you acted like a selfish piece of shit. We all did. She walked away from you and ended up in a hospital bed.”
I stare at him.
He doesn’t blink. “She isn’t a habit. She isn’t something you pick up when you feel empty and then throw away the second you get scared.”
The old me would’ve laughed in his face, called him fucking dramatic, told him to mind his own fucking business, and maybe shoved him just because my fists have always been better at talking than my mouth.
But that asshole died the second I looked at Willow lying in that bed and realized the last thing I’d ever said to the girl I loved might’ve been another smart-ass line instead of the truth.
I look past Cruz into the living room and see Willow laughing at something Jax said.
She’s alive. Jesus fucking Christ... she’s actually alive.
“I know what I did, Cruz,” I say quietly. “I fucking know it.”
Cruz waits.
“I’m not doing that to her again,” I say.
His eyes stay locked on mine. “She loved you.”
My chest tightens so fucking much that it hurts to breathe. “I know she did.”
“No,” he says. “You’ve got no fucking clue what it cost her to keep loving you.”
“I fucking know, okay,” I say again, a little angry this time. “And I’m not asking her to trust me because I finally learned how to string a few honest fucking sentences together.”
“So what are you doing?”
“I’m going to earn it.”
He studies me for a long moment. “You sure you know how?”
A humorless laugh slips out. “No.”
I meet his gaze. “But I’m fucking stubborn enough to keep trying until she believes me... or tells me to fuck off.”
That pulls a smirk from Cruz, but there is nothing amused about it.
Still, he sees I’m no longer the egotistical asshole shoving every hard truth down someone’s throat. I am listening. Taking the hit and letting it land.
Cruz studies my face for another long second.
“I fucking hope you do, Phoenix, because I won’t hesitate to kick your ass.” His mouth quirks. “I have a shovel and very flexible morals.”
“Please, you’d last five minutes before digging me back up because Jax got even more annoying.”
A laugh escapes him before he can stop it.
“Yeah. You’re probably right.” Then his face hardens again. “But I mean it, Phoenix. Don’t fuck around.”
When Cruz and I step back into the living room, Jax and Jett are already at it.
Jax stands near the coffee table, a plate in his hand. Jett is on the other side of the table, and both of them glare at each other.
“I was just asking if she wanted food,” Jax says.
“You asked twice,” Jett replies.
“Because she didn’t answer.”
“She did answer. You just didn’t like it.”
Jax’s mouth flattens. “What the fuck is your problem?”
Jett’s eyes cut to him. “Right now? You.”
Cruz stops beside me.
I look between the twins and there it is again. That thing that has been happening more often lately.
It used to be nothing. A glare. A shove. Jax getting loud. Jett going cold. Then both of them moving on because that’s what brothers do.
But lately, it sticks.
Jax says something with too much heat behind it and Jett answers as if he knows exactly where the soft tissue is buried.
Cruz exhales beside me.
“Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking sick of this shit.” He looks at both of them. “Pull your heads out of your asses and remember why the fuck we’re here.”
I turn my head to gaze at Willow. Her brows pull together in that small, careful way they do when she knows something is wrong but doesn’t quite know what it is.
I walk over and sit beside her, close enough that she knows I’m there, but not so close as to crowd her.
“Do you need a minute?” I ask quietly. “If you want me to send them on their way, I’ll clear the room.”
Willow turns her head toward me. “No.”
“You sure?”
“I haven’t seen them in months.”
Her gaze returns to the twins. Jax has dropped onto the edge of the armchair, elbows on his knees, jaw set hard enough to crack a molar. Jett is by the window, staring through the glass.
Cruz stands between them, watching both with the expression of a man calculating how many teeth the next wrong word might cost.
Willow leans a little closer to me. Not touching. But close enough that I feel the heat of her at my side and every nerve in my body notices.
“How long have they been like this?” she asks.
“A little while.”
Her eyes come back to mine. “Since when?”
“The tour.”
Her gaze flicks between Jax and Jett. “They always fought.”
“Yeah.”
“But not like this.”
I look at the twins again.
Jax is still staring at the floor. Jett is still looking out the window. Whatever is sitting between them now has teeth.
“No,” I say to her. “Never like this.”