Chapter 43
Forty-Three
THEN | JAX
She doesn’t need to say she’s scared. It’s in the tremor I can feel through her hand, the way her eyes are doing gymnastics to avoid mine, the way she’s walking like she’s trying to sneak past a goddamn sleeping dragon.
I stop her, yanking her into the first empty classroom I see. I cage her against the wall. “Look, as creepy as that asshole is, this doesn’t mean anything, okay? He can’t touch you. I got you. Got it?”
Her breath hitches. “He’s always been nice. I know he’s a little creepy but…”
I don’t let her finish. I duck my head and kiss her. A hard press of my lips against hers, a reminder I got her. “He’s not nice, he’s manipulating you.”
She tries again, her voice shaky. “I don’t know, Jax. Something was really wrong with him back there. He was fine until you showed up. I mean, mostly…”
I kiss her again, deeper this time, my tongue tracing her bottom lip before I pull away. I’m not trying to shut her up, not really. I’m just trying to calm her down. “Forget him,” I say against her mouth.
“Sometimes he does this thing like he’s talking to someone invisible or pushes his ears but, everyone has their quirkiness…” she persists, her hands coming up to rest on my chest.
I smile against her lips. “My quirk is that I want to be inside you again, right now. We all have our things.”
She hits my chest playfully. “I’m serious, Jax!”
I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring it.
Her resolve is melting, I can feel it in the way her fingers curl into my shirt.
But she’s not done yet. “I did ask him about his dog, you know?” she whispers, and I can hear the frustration in her voice.
“He said it just ran away. Maybe you’re right, maybe it’s best if I stay away… ”
I pull back, looking her dead in the eye. “His dog didn’t run away. And you are not going near him again. That’s already been decided.”
Then I’m on her again, my mouth slanting over hers, my hands sliding down to grip her hips, pulling her flush against me. She kisses me back for a moment, lost in it, before she wrenches her head to the side, panting. “Jax,” she gasps. “You’re not even listening to me.”
I grin. “I’m listening. I’m just multitasking.”
I kiss her again, my teeth nipping at her lower lip, my hands roaming under the hem of her dress, tracing the warm skin of her leg. She moans, a small, helpless sound that goes straight to my dick.
“Stop it,” she says, but it’s weak. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”
“Serious is overrated,” I trail kisses down her neck.
“Pitfire, you’re impossible,” she breathes, her hands tangling in my hair.
“Impossible for you to resist,” I correct her, my voice smug.
She shoves at my chest, not hard, just enough to make me take a step back. “No. I’m serious. This is serious.”
“Okay,” I say, holding my hands up. “You win. Let’s talk.”
I push off the wall and spin around, hopping my ass onto the teacher’s desk. I grab her hand, pulling her between my legs until she’s flush against me. I wrap my arms around her waist, locking her in.
“Alright,” I say, my voice serious now. “Spit it out. What else did the freak do?”
“He told me he found something days ago and wanted to show it to me,” she says, her eyes fixed on the collar of my shirt.
“So I asked him about it, asked him to bring it to school, whatever… he kept not answering, changing subjects, saying I had to go see it for myself.” She looks up at me.
“Pretty sure he just wanted me to go to his place.”
I lift an eyebrow.
“I know… don’t look at me like that,” she says, a little defensive. “I don’t know.”
A disbelieving grin spreads across my face. “Damn. Fucking nerd has game.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Alright,” I say, cutting through the bullshit before she drowns in it. “This is our senior night, enough of this shit. Do you know what we need?” I say, trying to distract her before she spirals deeper.
She glances over, guarded. “A gun?”
“Close,” I say, my hands coming up to frame her face. “A dance.”
She blinks. “You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” I grab her hand. “You’re the one who said dancing shuts up the world. Well, the world is being a loudmouth bastard right now. So dance with me.”
She’s still looking at me. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Perfect. Neither am I. Let’s be miserable together on the dance floor.”
“One song. And don’t step on my foot.”
“You don’t know what I’m like on the dance floor,” I smirk, tightening my grip on her. “Just… try not to fall completely in love with me out there, okay? I know it’ll be hard, but do your best.”
“No promises, bad boy.”
It was a joke, yet, my breath actually catches.
The smug smile on my face falters for a half-second, replaced by something so fucking real it hurts.
She sees it. I know she does. For a moment, it’s not a game anymore.
My eyes catch on the little brown birthmark on her wrist. I lift her hand to my mouth and press my lips right against it.
We walk into the gym and I don’t give a shit about anyone else.
My eyes are locked on her. I don’t know how I know, but she’s probably the most beautiful thing in this world.
It has nothing to do with her dress, the lights, or the way she moves.
It’s just… her. And for the first time, I’m not trying to figure it out.
I’m just letting it happen. Fuck. I really am in love with her.
I pull her against me and every thought I had about just one song evaporates.
I’m ready to lead, to take control, but she moves first. And fuck me.
She’s liquid-smooth. I don’t have to do a goddamn thing.
I simply hold on and try to keep up as she flows against me, her movements so natural it’s like the music is coming from inside her.
“This song is so old,” she laughs.
“It’s perfect,” I say, my voice a little rough.
And it is. Cheesy and slow and perfect. I’d kill anyone who tries to take this from me. I’d burn this whole goddamn city down, just to keep her here—pressed against me, moving like we belong to each other.
Of course it doesn’t last. Someone slams into my shoulder. I turn, already annoyed, and there he is. Whistle and half his stupid entourage. “Well, well… look who kissed and made up.”
A couple of the guys snicker behind him.
“Done crying over losing your girl?” Whistle adds, eyes sliding over Sisk.
“You done celebrating your pity win?” I shoot back.
Whistle steps closer, trying to get in my face. “Still sore about it?”
A couple kids nearby oooh under their breath. Sisk squeezes my hand and I glance at her. Her eyes flick toward the small cluster forming around us, then back to me. She leans close, lips brushing my ear. “More witnesses. The better.”
Before I can answer, Whistle bumps me again. “You two gonna keep grinding in the middle of the floor or actually do something fun tonight?”
Sisk pulls back, voice suddenly loud enough for everyone nearby. “We were just leaving anyway.”
“Yeah,” some guy behind Whistle says. Big dude, beard coming in patchy. “This party sucks.”
Someone calls him Bear.
Sisk grins. “This party does suck.”
Becky appears out of nowhere, half drunk already. “Wait—where are you going?”
Sisk says it like it’s nothing. “The Pit.”
The word hangs in the air, setting off a ripple of reactions. It doesn’t spread far—it sticks to the handful of people close enough to hear. My grip tightens on her hand and she glances up at me. “Trust me,” she says.
Behind us Dean whoops. “Hell yeah—after party.”
Bear grins. “I’m in.”
Whistle rolls his shoulders. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
A few others peel off from the crowd—six, maybe seven total.
I notice Lou among them. Behind him, a girl drains her spiked punch in one swallow.
I glance at Mr. Halpern behind the table, still straightening napkins like he hasn’t been teaching teenagers for two decades.
He’s completely clueless that the punch he’s serving is already doing its job.
We start drifting toward the exit, a little tribe of trouble looking for a place to land. I lean closer to her as we walk. “You trying to get someone killed tonight?”
She smirks. “Relax. We need answers.”
We push through the doors into the night air as a cop starts barking orders at a group of kids crowding the curb.
“Back it up. Now.” Detective Rourke steps in beside him, one hand already resting near his radio.
“You heard him. Clear the area.” Dean flips them off when he thinks no one’s looking.
“Go be stupid somewhere else,” the cop adds, already turning away.
They don’t care where anyone goes—just that they go. By the time anyone glances our way, we’re already halfway across the lot. Too late for anyone to think to ask where we’re headed.
Bear jogs toward one of the trucks. “We got room!” Whistle slaps the side of his bike. “Becky, you with me!” She whoops and jumps on behind him like she’s done this a hundred times. Gina gets shoved into the back seat of a car missing a bumper.
Dean yells, “Yo, Jax! You two riding with us?”
I glance at Sisk. “Let’s go.”
We pile into the back with Lou. Dean’s driving, one hand on the wheel, the other slapping the dash. Fiona’s shotgun, knees to her chest, half her body hanging out the window. In the back, it’s me, Sisk, and Lou, a tangle of legs and arms, pressed close.
Fiona twists around in her seat, dangling two pops. I’ve been seeing these black teardrop lollipops everywhere lately. The new high. Pretty sure they’re laced with ash.
“Anyone want one?” she asks.
Nobody takes it.
“Relax,” she adds quickly. “It’s just candy. A girl was giving them out like party favors.”
I shake my head. “I’m good.”
Lou snorts, digging a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Suit yourself. Mr. Raw Night. Aren’t you supposed to be trouble?”
He flicks his lighter and holds the pack out to Sisk. She takes it.
“Dancers,” Fiona says with a grin, glancing at Lou. “Always the worst influence.”
Lou winks. “Occupational hazard.”
Sisk rolls her eyes, brings it to her lips, inhales—and coughs immediately, laughing like that was the plan all along.
I watch her the whole time. The way she stares out the window like she’s daring herself not to look scared.
The way she’s trying on this version of herself—reckless, careless, untouched by consequences.
Bad girl vibes, loud as hell. I’m so into it, it almost pisses me off, because I see through it.
I know she’s nervous. I know this is armor.
She’s doing this because standing still would mean thinking.
She exhales smoke toward the cracked window. “What?” she asks, catching me watching.
I smirk. “Nothing.”
Lou grins like he just did me a favor. I ignore him and slide my hand over her knee instead, grounding her, keeping her close. She leans into me.
The city changes as we drive—streets getting rougher. Tar City starts showing its teeth.
I stretch my legs like I’m bored instead of wired tight. “Would this be the right time to tell you guys something?” I ask.
Dean glances at me in the rearview. “If it’s gonna make this ride less boring, sure.”
“If it’s about you fighting someone, I’m listening,” Lou says.
Fiona twists around, lollipop between her fingers. “This already feels like a good story.”
Sisk turns toward me.
I keep my voice easy as if I’m about to tell a joke. “I overheard Detective Rourke and Mr. Halpern tonight,” I say.
That gets a couple looks.
“They were arguing,” I continue. “About Cynthia.”
Sisk’s hand tightens in mine.
Lou frowns. “Who the fuck is Cynthia?”
“The Knotted-Hair-Girl,” I say.
The vibe in the car changes. Dean’s grip tightens on the wheel. Fiona’s smile falters.
“Oh,” Lou mutters.
“They think tonight matters,” I continue. “Full moon. Same timing. Same pattern.”
The road dips. The Pit’s close now.
“And,” I add, glancing at Sisk, “they think history might repeat itself.”
Sisk looks at me, her eyes wide.
Dean snorts from the front seat. “Real smooth, asshole. Scare the girls before we even park.”
“Oh, I see what you’re doing,” Lou says from beside me. “Spook her so she’ll be clinging to you all night. Classic Jax.”
Fiona laughs, leaning back against her seat. “Don’t worry, Sisk. If anything comes for you, we’ll use Lou as bait, then Dean here…” She reaches over and squeezes his bicep. “…he’ll just have to use these muscles to save us, won’t you, babe?”
All jokes aside, I got a feeling bringing everyone here tonight might’ve been a mistake, but I don’t tell them that.