“Hope, explain… please.” He rubs the fresh scratches on his arm at a red light. They’re open. Bleeding. From me.
Rather than answering, I reach over and take his arm. My fingers shake just touching him, but I watch his face and kiss the marks, not caring if my lips get bloody. I still feel semi-feral. Like everything I’ve been pushing down is welling to the surface.
“I showed her the video. She kept telling me to turn it off. She said it was bad for me… She didn’t apologize, Jax,” I simplify, still stuck on that point. “Not once did she say she was wrong. She just… kept telling me to calm down. That my paranoia was bad. That she couldn’t help me if I didn’t trust her.”
“Fucking bitch,” he sneers, gripping the wheel tighter. “You should have smacked her diploma into her face. Maybe then she’d gain some smarts.”
I almost smile, but it dies on my lips. “Jax…”
“I’m serious. It was obviously self-defense. You were protecting yourself from a manipulative person in a place of power. It was a PTSD episode. We would have made sure you were okay,” he continues, reaching over and rubbing my knee gently.
He pauses when I flinch, then looks at me as someone honks at him to go. He clears his throat. “You like my touch when you sleep.”
I want to tell him I’m trying, but I can’t control my reactions. I rub his hand and put it firmly on my knee, no higher. It’s an attempt.
“Why didn’t he kill him, Jax? Knox had the gun, Da-Dad was right there. Why didn’t he?”
His arm tenses. “I wanted you to do it, Hope. I said that was how it needed to be. He wanted to do it, but I knew… Iwantedyou to do it.”
“But he didn’t, he couldn’t,” I rasp.
“I know, sweetheart. But you don’t need him to kill your demons. You’re strong enough to do it yourself. You need to be strong enough.”
He comes to another stop, but I don’t look away from him. He exhales slowly, staring out the windshield. Something unfamiliar and raw fills his eyes until he hides it and we inch forward. Finally, he clears his throat. “I wish that I killed the guy who took something from me.”
No elaboration, just another slow roll forward while he refuses to look at me. I almost ask, but he continues. “I knew then it would give you peace. Control. It showed you how powerful you are. It was supposed to kill him and the nightmares.”
“Why… I don’t understand. What are you talking about? Who took something from—”
“What do you want from the drive-through? I need more carbs,” he says as he turns and heads to the drive-through of the McDonald’s.
Before I can push for more, he starts ordering. I’m pretty sure he’s listed half the menu before he looks at me and I shrug, saying whatever. Rolling his eyes, he takes his time, carefully picks something, then continues to the window.
While we wait for our food, I try again. “Jax, what do you—”
“This isn’t something I want to talk about,” he says, voice sharp. When I flinch, he squeezes my knee, proving he hasn’t let go. “I’m not ready. Not yet, okay?”
I don’t have anything to say to that and he knows it. He takes the food and parks the car as I keep staring at him.
He inhales the food and groans, as if he can’t really tolerate being that serious or honest with me. He piles the food in my lap. “Hot and delicious, a whole lot like you, baby. I read that doing multiplication and division can help with a panic attack. Want to do that? I won’t even know if you’re wrong.”
I blink at him, confused by this entire conversation. I realize I’ve stopped shaking even with him touching me. What the hell is going on with my men?
DIMITRI
“Stop being an ass and be honest,” Knox orders.
I’m over spending fucking “quality time” with him. Yesterday was one thing since Hope had therapy. Therapy she refused to talk about and Jaxon didn’t mention, other than that Hope’s more of a menace than he is. Of course, he said it with a mouth full of food and a huge smile before getting serious and saying none of us were welcome back.
Hope had asked me to spend time with Knox the asshole, and I had. I’d been a good guy, we’d looked at more apartments online, with multiple bedrooms, but even with our budget it’s a difficult search. If we had more time, we could’ve found a housefor us, something where we could live forever, but instead we need something quick.
Knox is in full cheery asshole mode with the nerve of callingmethe ass.
He finally meets my glare, the same one that has the real estate agent nervous. She picks at lint on her clothes and is probably fantasizing about being in Maui rather than between two muscled men who are acting like jockstraps.
“How about you stop being an ass and asking me to be excited about a one-bedroom apartment just because it has a huge bathroom and a big kitchen?” I growl. “We said at least two bedrooms.”
“Then make one appear. If you have a fucking in somewhere to get us a two or three bedroom, why are you holding out?” Knox growls.
