Page 48

Chapter 33

Saint

Suggested Listening - Someone You Loved, Lewis Capaldi

We settle in the lounge, me on one sofa, Jax and some guy opposite. He’s short, cropped dark hair, pale complexion, wearing a grey suit. His lawyer maybe? Jason is sitting on a chair in the corner watching; he hasn’t opened his mouth since he arrived. Two security guards stand just outside the doorway, angled in a way that they can see us and anyone approaching from the other direction. This isn’t how I wanted to do this, but I understand the precaution. I sip my wine, buying myself a minute to decide how to start.

Jax beats me to it.

“So, Aaron Winters was your boyfriend?” he asks gently, settling his whisky glass on the table between us.

I look at him. He looks exhausted. No. Devastated.

“He is… Was.” I correct myself.

I’m not used to talking about him in the past tense yet. Something in my chest splits open, and pain floods in to fill the space.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. There’s no anger in his tone, just concern. It’s almost worse.

“I was going to,” I start, sitting forward and placing my wine down. “I just…” I search for the right words. “I blamed you. For the longest time I blamed you.” He nods like he understands but doesn’t interrupt. “I hated you because it was easier than it was to face the truth,” I sigh. “I didn’t know you were going to be staying here this weekend, not at first anyway.”

“When did you know?”

“I called to check something. Enzo thought he had hung up and I heard him mention you staying here this weekend. I was already booked for the event and the lodge,” I glance at him. “I promise I wasn’t stalking you, it was just a coincidence. Although I did arrive early so I could see you first, mentally prepare myself I suppose.”

“Understandable, given the circumstances.”

“I don’t hate you anymore,” I tell him. He has to know that. “Not since I got to know you. I know it wasn’t your fault…” My breath catches.

Jax moves before I've even finished the sentence, closing the space between us until he's right there, pulling me into him. I feel the first prickle of tears and try to fight them back.

When we finally pull apart, his eyes are wet too.

“He didn’t suffer,” he says. “I just thought you should know that.”

I nod, wiping at my eyes with my sleeve.

“It all just happened so fast—”

“I was driving,” a voice interrupts. It’s the man on the opposite sofa—the one I mistook for a lawyer. “Not Jax. The papers got it wrong, we—” He waves his hand. “It doesn’t matter, I just thought you should know. I was the one driving that night.”

I stare at him. He says his name is Craig, that he’s Jason’s driver, and he was driving Jax back to his hotel that night. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jason nodding his agreement.

All this time. All this time and Jax wasn’t even behind the bloody wheel.

“What happened?” I ask, choking back a sob.

“He came out of nowhere,” Craig replies, his eyes glassing over. “No lights on, going way too fast for that road. I’ve replayed it a thousand times and there was nothing I could’ve done differently—I know that, logically, I know that.” His voice catches, and I reach my hand out to him across the table; he takes it. “He came round the bend so fast he’d already lost the back end before I even saw him. I hit him and the car flipped. It shouldn’t have been enough to…” His voice cracks and tears stream down his face.

Jax has gone very still beside me, staring at a point on the carpet like it might undo something if he looks at it hard enough. “I was out of the car before it had even stopped rolling,” he says quietly. “I don’t really remember getting to him. One second, I was in the passenger seat and the next I was on my knees in the road, and he was just… Looking up at me. Like he was confused more than anything.” Tears fill his eyes. “I held onto him the whole time. Told him help was coming, that he was going to be fine.” He drags a hand down his face. “He didn’t suffer, Saint. I need you to believe that, because it’s the one thing I’ve held onto this year. He wasn’t scared. He was just looking right at me, and then he wasn’t, and it was so quiet. That’s the part I can’t get out of my head. How peaceful it was."

The room goes still. The sounds of grief emanating from each of us. We sit in it, allowing ourselves to feel it. It’s cathartic in a way I haven’t allowed myself before. Jax pulls me in for another hug, and I feel his tears wet my shoulder.

“I need to tell you something else,” I whisper into his shoulder, and he goes rigid, like he’s bracing for another blow. “Before I knew you. When your name was everywhere and Aaron’s wasn’t—when the papers made it sound like some reckless celebrity had just driven through my life and kept going—there was a version of me that wanted the world to tear you apart for it.” I admit. “I used to imagine it. Being the one to finally say his name loud enough that yours would mean something different forever.” I pull back to look at him. “I’m not proud of that and I never acted on it. But I wanted to. I was going to this weekend. Make you confess it all, expose you. I wanted you to hurt the way I do, but when I met you, I realised you were already hurting.” I choke back a sob. “You deserve the whole truth tonight, not just the parts that make me look like I forgave you easily.”

Jax doesn’t flinch. “I think if our places were switched, I’d have wanted the same thing.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I assure him, squeezing his hand gently. “Or yours,” I say, to Craig. “He always drove too bloody fast,” I sob. “I told him. I bloody told him.”