“I remember one time when Jax was around eight and spending the weekend with us…he wanted to learn to play guitar so badly. Pops spent hours showing him the basics, and they would play all day. Honestly, I have never seen that kid that happy,” King shares.
“Your dad was the one who taught Jax to play?”
Big O smiles a wistful smile. “Yeah, only Angel was interested in playing instruments out of us three, so Pops was delighted when Jax showed strong interest. Pops had been into music since he was a kid and wanted to share that love with his children. Jax was always like his fourth son anyway, so having him and Angel loving music was everything for our him.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet. It’s such a shame that I never met Joey.”
Everyone have varying expressions of nostalgia as they agree with my statement. If today has shown me anything, it’s that everyone loved Joseph “Joey” Kingston. Everyone except Trisha, Jax’s mother, who had only negative things to say.
“There are so many more stories, too, trust me.” Angel laughs.
I like these people, but I must admit that I wish Jax was here, too. I want to understand him better—all of him. Not only the parts he shows to the world but also those aspects of his life he has hidden deep inside. The parts that I see glimpses of every time he lets me closer.
Arriving at the hotel after dinner, I decide to stop at the hotel bar to see if Jax is still there. I happen to have the only key to our room—because of an overbooking situation at the hotel—so I bet he has been waiting for me.
If Jax was a mess three hours ago, it’s nothing compared to the version of him sitting hunched over the bar, nursing his drink. Moseying across the bar, I wait for him to notice me. We sit there quietly for minutes before he finally turns his head my way. And what I see in his eyes almost breaks me. All the pain, inner turmoil, hurt, and other emotions swirl in them.
“One more, please,” Jax says to the woman behind the bar.
The bartender glances from him to me, and I nod. I think it’ll be the last one if I want to get him out of here today. She pours another generous helping of vodka and nudges the glass closer to Jax. He takes a long gulp, coughs, and makes a face when he feels the drink's kick. I ask the bartender to bring us glasses of ice water with lemon slices. When she set them in front of us, I take a sip of my water.
“What are you doing here, Soph?”
“I was worried about you,” I say, a faint tremor in my voice.
He laughs humorlessly. “Since when did you start caring about me?”
I know he’s upset and grieving, but it doesn’t permit him to act like an asshole. “Don’t hurt me because you’re hurting. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Well, I learned from the best, darling. You met her, so you finally understand why I’m so fucked up that I can’t even join a cult, as I would be too much for them.”
“Really, Jax? Since when have you wanted to join a cult?”
“Just forget it.”
I draw in a deep breath, maintaining my calm. I understand his attitude isn’t directed at me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?” He asks with an edge to his voice.
I swallow hard and lift my chin, boldly meeting his eyes. “Whatever it is that makes you want to forget that you exist.”
“Oh, should I talk about all those times my mother picked her ex-husbands over me? Which one of those core memories of my childhood should we start with?” His breathing is gettingheavier, and I’m afraid he will break his glass if he keeps his firm hold on it any longer. “Not to forget that my father isalive, and I just discovered that after believing he was dead all my life. So, Soph, please tell me, what do you want to hear?”
Jax’s entire body is shaking as the anger radiates off him. I place my hand over his free one and squeeze it. “Any of it will do.”
He ignores me and continues rambling. “You know, there’s something I have been wondering all night long…when I was placed in the foster system at age fourteen, Trisha did everything so her brother, my Uncle Joey, wouldn’t get custody of me. She somehow convinced child protective services that staying connected with my uncle wouldn’t be in my best interest. My dear mother lied through her teeth, and it blows my mind that they believed her.”
“Was that when you were placed in the same foster home with Eli and Ollie?”
Jax smiles for the first time in what feels like days. “Yeah, the only good thing that came from living with the Browns was those two. My brothers are there for me no matter what. They even wanted to come here, but I told them not to bother. It's better if I only feel this pain.” He releases a sad chuckle. “We used to joke about how we should be called the messed-up brothers of Redwood Lane. It wasn’t too far off, to be honest. But thank fuck, we’re all out of that place and will never see our cruel foster parents again.”
“They were abusive?”
“I never got beaten up, but others weren’t that fortunate. I think Eli took the most beating as he couldn’t shut up. Ollie was smarter than that, and the Browns were intimidated by me. Not that it matters, because those two are six feet under.”
I’ve heard the story from Eli, of what happened to the Browns, the foster parents the guys had in their teen years. They died in a house fire years ago when the guys were on their senior trip. But I still have no idea why Jax was placed in the system.
“Jax, why did you end up in the foster system?”
