Chapter Eight
Maura
I stand under the water scrubbing my body until it is almost red from the abrasion. It’s not even like I’m dirty. It’s more I had to wash off the fear. The remnant of the nightmare I had. Even though it was fragmented I could feel the terror seeping in through my pores, chilling me to the bone. I wonder if I’ll ever feel warm again. Safe.
I’ll always save you. I pause sudsing my hair and a calm comes over me. He already does. Just thinking of Jax is calming. I know he will always find me.
Jax warned me that as cold as it is the hot water won’t last long. But I push it to the last moment and am rinsing as the water gets colder and colder. Shivering, I quickly dry and pull on another of Jax’s long sleeve T-shirts and drawstring sweatpants. Knotting the shirt at my waist and rolling the cuffs of the pants I feel just a touch more feminine. I’m a little self-conscious that my boobs are just hanging there but what am I going to do? I refuse to put on the underwear I was left to die in. It’s like they’re tainted.
Screw it. I swore off my parent’s body shaming years ago. Besides I’ve seen the fire in Jax’s eyes when he looks at me. When he snuggled me against him his cock was at full attention. But it’s obvious he's a gentleman.
I run the comb Jax made me through my hair, almost surprised at how perfectly it fits my grasp and how well it works. The tines are the perfect length. I’ve never known anyone so thoughtful.
Heading to the kitchen I see he’s already got pancakes keeping warm and bacon frying. He looks over at me, his gaze appreciatively running from head to toe, lingering on my breasts. I don’t think he realized he licked his lips. Definitely a boob man.
“How close are we? I can pour coffee.”
“Two minutes.”
After filling our cups, I stand beside him holding the plates for him to dish up. “This smells wonderful. I can’t even remember the last time I had pancakes.”
“Hope you like them. It’s a scratch recipe. One we always used.”
“Do you make everything from scratch?”
“Pretty much. It’s how Gramps and Grandma started. They kept a garden and bought the basics like flour, sugar, yeast. Gramps would hunt and fish, always careful not to take more than he needed. They didn’t have electricity in the beginning. Gradually they added a few things like the oil. He, they, were simple people.
“My father was the only surviving child. They had a daughter first, but she was born sick and only lived a year. The way I understood it, my father took up with some rich kids in high school and was embarrassed by his family. He went away to college, got a financial degree and never came back. Sent Gramps a letter that he’d married my mother. Mom’s family was high society.
“They had me and by the time I was seven they were both tired of me. That’s when I started spending summers with Gramps. I loved it. You know the part where they didn’t want me. Truth. I didn’t want them. They were always absent anyway. I was raised by housekeepers and cooks.”
He studies me for a minute. “You never told me your last name.”
“Kennedy. I’m Maura Kennedy.”
He gives a brief nod before taking a bite.
A niggle of dread squeezes my chest. “Did you know my father?”
He takes another bite and nods again.
“You would have been about the same age.”
“Age wise he was two years older.”
“Were you in classes together?”
“Some. Scholastically, I was taking advanced classes. And we were in some sports together.”
“Oh. My. God. You were the reason he quit football and switched to golf.” I can’t hold back the laughter. Tears are streaming down my cheeks before I can stop.
“What’s so funny?”
“First, the player who tried to bribe the coach to let him be the quarterback, that was my father. Right?”
His gaze glistens with amusement. “Yep.”
“I always suspected Father was out played, since he can barely throw a football. His reason for switching sports was that golf was an educated man’s sport and more important for his career. Big deals are made on the golf course, you know.
“Of course he sucks at that, too. He takes fake phone calls to leave before he embarrasses himself then meets his group at the nineteenth hole.”
“He was also one of the guys that was an ass to you, wasn’t he?” All humor is gone from my voice.
“Yes. But it doesn’t matter. I’m comfortable with who and what I am.”
“My dad is a controlling manipulative bastard. He wanted a son. He got me. He’s tried to force me into a business marriage more than once. I refused. He’s disowned me. I celebrated.
“My mother lives in a bottle as far away from him as she can. She got pregnant on purpose to catch a rich man and had her tubes tied immediately after my birth…except she didn’t tell my father that part.
“It appears to me that you and I both got shit for parents.” I study him.
He covers my hand with his. “That we did. But we turned out just fine.”
“That we did.”
We finish breakfast, do dishes together, and he shows me how to wash clothes before he goes out to collect more wood from behind the cabin. The wind is still howling but the snow has slowed.
Making a cup of tea, I grab a sketch book and the notebook I started with and sit at the table. Unease settles on me as I finger the corner of the notebook. A sense of doom and gloom tightens my chest. I have no idea how long I sit there lost in nothingness.
“Talk to me, babe. What’s going on in that pretty little head? Let me help.”
He’s crouched beside me at eye level. He’s wearing fresh clothes and his hair is damp. “How… How long have you been back inside?”
“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. I thought you were working at the table, so I took my shower. When I came back, I realized you hadn’t moved. You still held the full mug in the same position and your finger was still picking at the corner of the notebook. I’m sorry I didn’t notice before.”
He places his phone on the table and pushes a button. “Don’t think about it, just tell me what you were seeing in your mind.”
“I’m not sure. It’s more like moments. I was in my favorite coffee shop drinking a latte and sketching a new dress idea. I must have ordered a second latte because I remember it being full when I thought I’d finished. The last picture I’d been working on was all wrong. The model was too skinny for the style of outfit. And sloppy like I couldn’t stay in the lines, so to speak. It didn’t make sense. I knew I could do better.
“I was uncomfortable about doing something. A photo shoot for my new line. I wasn’t prepared. Then I was enjoying a croissant and eating tangerines. I didn’t want any more, but I should eat them, they’re my favorite.”
“Was there a reason you didn’t want anymore?”
“They tasted funny, like the second latte. No, they felt funny. I felt funny.”
“What do you remember next?”
“The breeze. I thought I was a dog, leaning my head out the window feeling the cool air. I kept barking. No, that’s not right. He yelled at me for barfing. Getting the car dirty.”
Facing Jax, I start to shake. “I could barely stay on my feet. My head was swimming. He was yelling, making me walk by slapping the back of my legs with something. Then he pushed me against a tree and the bark hurt my back.”
I can’t go on. I start to cry, full on snotty tears. Jax hands me a hanky and grabs a couple dish towels before lifting me and snuggling me on his lap.
“He left me. He left me in the snow and cold. I heard him laugh.”
“It’s ok, babe. I got you. You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you again. I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe.”