12 - Dax #2
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Bear shouted. “You can’t seem to get enough of it.”
I reeled back, finally feeling free to fall into habit.
I spun out, using the momentum of the blow to plant my back foot against the wall and shake the white spots from my vision.
Then I lunged forward, so fast that not even Sy could get there in time before I slipped under Bear’s guard and drove a jab into his ribs, followed up by a right hook of my own that snapped his head back.
“Stop it!” Lane yelled, but both of us were too far gone.
Silas was now shouting and wrapping his massive arms around my chest from behind, lifting me off my feet completely while using his heavy boot to shove Bear backwards. There was now a five-foot separation between us. Lane still stood at the top of the stairs, one hand grasping the railing.
“Calm the fuck down, both of you.” Silas shoved Bear and me in opposite directions. “Walk it off.”
I probed the inside of my lip, the coppery taste of blood exploding fresh on my tongue. Bear shook Silas off and stormed off to the far end of the basement, working his jaw. I turned on my heel and strode upstairs, brushing straight past a still-standing Lane.
I was about to leave through the front door when her voice stopped me.
“Wait a second, Dax. Come back here.”
My hand tightened on the knob. I really didn’t want to stay in this house. In fact, I wanted nothing more than to leave and not look back. But I seemed to be in a particularly generous self-sabotaging mood today, and for that reason alone, I let go of the knob and turned around to face her.
She wasn’t crying or looking emotional in any way. I don’t know why I expected that of her. Instead, she just looked…focused. She was wearing the same look on her face that she did right before she left for a hearing.
“Kitchen,” she said simply, turning around and leading the way without another word. I followed.
When we got there, she sat me down on a barstool and pulled out a first aid kit from one of her cabinets. She took out what I assumed was a disinfectant wipe and began dabbing at the split skin of my lip and brow without so much as flinching.
My heart was still pounding from the adrenaline of the fight, and up until this point, everything had felt rushed and electrified.
My body had instinctively gone right back into that mode where I was hyperaware of everything and at the same time, barely registered anything outside of a perceived threat.
But the gentleness of her fingers broke through that wall of instinct.
She didn’t touch me like I was some dangerous prick who couldn’t be trusted to keep his anger on a leash.
There wasn’t any judgment in her eyes as she concentrated on my injuries.
She wasn’t looking at me with disdain or disappointment or any other type of response that I was used to.
Everything settled under that touch. I stayed hyper aware but the shape of the threat changed.
I could smell her body scent and shampoo. I could feel her soft breaths against my face when she leaned in closer to apply liquid skin to my brow. I was so close to her now that I could see the little flickers of gold in her otherwise green eyes.
I dropped my gaze but despite time finally slowing down again, my heartbeat would not.
“Don’t think too much of this,” she said quietly. There was still a tiny hint of her brand of sarcasm, but it didn’t bite. “I just figured I owed you one after you saved me from those thugs in the iron yard.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I told her.
“I want to,” was all she said in response.
I couldn’t bring myself to admit it, but this felt good. It felt good to be taken care of this way, to be regarded with something other than either disappointment or condescension.
It just felt good to be seen.
When she was done, she brushed a featherlight touch over my lip, so soft that I barely felt it. My breath caught in my throat. When she realized what she was doing, Lane dropped her hand and took a step back, folding her arms across her chest.
“Look,” she began, and her voice was back to business. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Bear. And I don’t know what’s happening in your personal life either, because I doubt your good mood today was random. But Dax…I want you to know that you can trust me. You can talk to me.”
A beat of silence. Lane looked as though she was grappling with herself, then she sighed and reached her hand out to rest on my shoulder. “About anything.”
My heart clenched.
Lane was a lot of things, but I knew that untrustworthy was not one of them.
And for a rare moment, I pictured what opening up to her might feel like.
I didn’t like to stop and think about just how heavy carrying my baggage could be sometimes, not until someone came along who actually tempted me to share the load.
Then I snapped back to reality. I couldn’t dump all of my shit onto her. I made my past choices, and there was nobody who could get me out of this situation except myself. The last thing I was going to do was drag her down with me.
I got up from the barstool. Her hand dropped.
“Thanks for the patch-job,” I mumbled.
A heaviness fell over her eyes, but I ignored it and swept past her, finally leaving this time.
Once I was free from the suffocation of the house, I pulled out my phone. Inside, I shored up the last bit of feeling I had behind my resolve. I still had the number memorized, couldn’t forget it even if I wanted to. He picked up on the second ring.
“It’s been a long time, Miller,” said the shady voice on the other end of the line. “I thought you were out of the game. Or is this just a wellness check?”
“No such thing,” I answered. “Tell me you’ve got a card tonight with a five-figure pot. I’m ready to come back for it.”