“No insurance?” He rubs his chin.
“Don’t know.” I fold my arms. “What the fuck do you care anyway? You suddenly develop a conscience?”
“Looks like you did. Inviting two fucking—”
“Enough,” James interjects. “Dinner,” he says, setting down his glass, “so I can properly meet the two young women that will be staying in my home.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kira
Ieye the twelve designer bags lined up in the walk-in closet and then scrub at my face.
This is insane.
The closet is bigger than our living room was. I can’t believe I’m staying in the house of the guy who burnt downmyhouse, and I’m actually contemplating wearing the clothes he bought for me. No doubt they are nice… and clean. Iamstill wearing the leggings Nix brought me for my check-out at Memorial, the ones with the rip in the seam on my inner thigh. I wonder when she grabbed them. Did she know what Jax was going to do and make sure to pick something before he could burn it all?
In a haste, I dig into one of the bags and pull out a receipt. I want to know just when everyone started lying to me. But sure enough, the receipt is dated three days ago, and the truth curdles something inside of me. I crumple the paper in my hand and plop onto the obscenely plush ottoman.
I don’t know how to get out of this. I don’t know how to make Nix see reason. How can she be on his side? I get that hesaysthere was going to be a warrant issued to search our house, butburning it down? No one does that! No one sane, at least. He literally took away everything we had to our name in this world,and I’m just supposed to be… what, thankful? And Nix is just… okay with it?
My eyes well up at the mess of my life. I really thought we were going to make it. Nix is so close to graduation, almost in college. Neither of us got knocked up, neither of us ended up in the system or homeless. I held it all down, kept us fed, kept the lights on. As useless as my high school diploma is, I got it, and I made sure she got hers. We were so close. She would have started to live a normal life, get the college experience with proper housing and three square meals. She would have healed from the trauma of our lives—something I don’t think I’ll ever get. But it was finally going to be okay. Because she would have gotten a job, a good one. I would have spared her from the sleazy bar life. But now, how could she ever recover from this? Killing someone? Burning their body? It’s clear she’s not in her right mind—if her just skipping on as if everything is fine in the wake of our house being reduced to ash is any indicator.
I’ve failed her. I’ve failedus.
We are literally under the roof of the most insufferable man that I’ve ever met, and she won’t listen. She thinksI’mbeing unreasonable, asking me why I would want to stay in a back room when we could be here.
And yeah, it would be rough in the back of Bell’s, but we aren’t safe here. Jax is savage. He doesn’t stop to consider consequences. He does whatever he sees fit without any remorse. That makes him dangerous.
The bedroom door opens, and I bolt up, quickly swiping the tears from my face. I practically leap into the room, hoping Nix has finally come to her senses. But when I realize Jax is the one shutting the door behind him—and flipping the lock—I freeze.
The urge to run into his arms jars me.
What the fuck?
I literally was just thinking about how cutthroat he is. But now that he’s in front of me—simple black shirt hugging his biceps so perfectly that it brings out the ink on his skin—my chest softens in relief. I want to run to him, bury my face against him, and let his arms wrap around me—something in me telling me he’ll fix this. He’ll kill whoever burned down my house.
But that’s not right.
Becausehe’sthe one who did it.
Rage sears me from the inside out. How could he? How could he do this to me? Make me feel like I could trust him and lean on him, and then mar me so badly?
I don’t know who I hate more—him or me.
Because I was so, so stupid, and still am, wanting his hand to wipe away my tears when it’s the same hand that caused them. God, I’m just as fucked up in the head as Nix.
“What do you want?” I snap, keeping a death grip on the door frame to the closet, my fingers aching from the pressure.
“Did you find the clothes?” There’s a hesitance in the way he steps into the room, like he’s treading lightly. It’s unnervingly unlike him. “If you don’t like any of it, I can give you my card. You can go shopping, get what you want. You and Nix.”
I narrow my eyes despite the offer and softness. “We don’t want anything from you.”
He hangs his head and sighs, the sound more painful than exasperated. “Forever or just right now?”
“What?” I find myself releasing my grip on the frame, agitated that he’s not responding to my venom.
“Because I need to know what I’m in for.” He looks up at me from under hooded eyes. “If you’re going to hate me forever, I need to prepare myself.”
