Page 27

T he house is quiet, the sky is dark, and Jax is beside me sleeping peacefully. He fell asleep hours ago, after leaving a trail of kisses across my skin and his name dripping off my lips like a sin. I should be relaxed, I was relaxed, completely spent after our activities together, but I can’t sleep. I roll to my left, before adjusting my pillow again, still unable to get comfortable. The silky sheets feel suffocating against my skin, his bedroom too vast, the air too cold. I turn towards Jax, trying to find comfort against him, closing my eyes as I nuzzle into his chest. I breathe him in as I take deep breaths, trying to will myself to sleep. It starts to work, and I walk the line between sleep and wakefulness, in a limbo of lucidity, as I think about Jax and the touch of his skin against me.

Jax shifts in his sleep, lazily throwing his arm over me, pulling me into him, his leg looping over mine, and his hand interlacing my own. He plants a tender kiss on the back of my head before his breathing gets deeper again. The last thing I remember before I drift off to sleep is the sound of him breathing behind me.

Bryce’s voice sounds loudly, startling me awake. “What the fuck, Tanner?”

“Don’t look at me.” He chuckles. “She asked for it.”

“That was way too far and you know it. Have you seen what you did to her face and neck? Jesus Christ…”

Someone laughs, and I can only assume it’s Tanner.

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“You were supposed to make sure she didn’t run away, Tanner. That’s it.”

“She’s still here, isn’t she?” he bites back.

“You know that’s not the point.” Bryce raises his voice. “And now you show up here again, already drunk.”

“Chill the fuck out.” Tanner’s voice rises in volume in response and I hear footsteps shuffle about. “You can’t tell me that you never thought about it?”

I can’t hear what Bryce mumbles in reply, Tanner’s laughter making it hard to hear.

My hands shake as I pull the blanket higher around me, retreating into the safety of the cocoon it creates.

My whole body feels disconnected at the sound of his voice, my breathing shallow and rapid, my hands clammy and unsteady, as shivers course through me, despite the warmth of my blanket.

“Tanner, stop.” Bryce’s voice rings out.

“Fuck off, Bryce. I just want to talk to her for a second.”

My heart stops, and I freeze, as the sound of heavy footsteps make their way towards me.

This is not real. This cannot be real.

I don’t move, even as I hear him enter my room, shutting the door behind him quickly before it’s flung open by Bryce.

“Seriously, just let her sleep. She’s practically passed out anyway, she finished your bottle of rum.” His words jumble together, and I can hear the nervousness in his voice.

I hear a scuffle, flinching at the sounds through the door.

“Get the fuck out, Bryce,” Tanner growls. “If you come in here one more time, I’ll knock you out.”

I jump as the door slams again, waiting for Bryce to storm in once more, but only silence meets my ears.

The bed sinks as he sits down behind me, but I can’t bring myself to move, can’t bring myself to speak.

“Bryce seems worried about you,” he states blandly. “And I can’t help but wonder what you did to make him suddenly so concerned about what happens with you.” He laughs to himself as dread floods my body.

He pulls the blanket off me, and I close my eyes, my breath caught somewhere in my chest, my body stiff despite the tremors rolling through me.

He runs a hand down my side and I flinch at his touch, flashbacks from last night vivid behind my eyelids.

“Bryce said you’re feeling a little worse for wear. Let’s see your face then.”

I open my eyes as he pulls me towards him, and I look anywhere but at him as I’m moved to face him.

“You need to be more careful next time,” he states coldly. “If you didn’t try to run, this wouldn’t have happened.” He scoffs.

A single tear escapes down my face and I close my eyes just as his hand reaches out for mine.

I jolt, my heart beating faster than I thought possible. I open my eyes as I try to sit up, but I’m trapped underneath his weight. Panic floods through me as I look for an escape, look for anything that can help me fight and get away from him, get out of this room… I pause as I look around me, noting the dark sheets, the huge windows, and the tattooed hand wrapped around mine. I breathe a shaky sigh of relief as I realize it was just a dream, and it’s Jax who has me firmly under him.

I am fine. It’s Jax.

“I need you to move,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice even as I nudge him with my elbow. He doesn’t stir. I repeat myself louder, an edge to my words that wasn’t there before, and I try to wriggle out from under him, but he’s a dead weight on top of me, and I can’t gain an inch. The fear sparked in my dream turns into something more, flooding my veins and sending me into a spiral.

I try to rationalize with myself, I try to take a deep breath, but my skin is crawling, and I need out.

I manage to lift his arm only for him to put it right back where it was, his grip now tighter, the heat of his body suddenly stifling, the feel of his skin against mine unbearable. Bile rises in my throat as I fight against the sheets and his leg wrapped over mine, my body desperate for escape.

I feel dizzy and suddenly I can’t think straight, as if the image of Tanner’s face has clouded all my senses. I can’t move, the memory of being pinned beneath him sending another wave of terror through me. Without thinking I bite down hard on Jax’s forearm and he jumps back, letting out a confused string of curses as I dart from the bed, my feet hitting against the hard floor until I get into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest, and I sink to the floor, trying to focus on the feel of the stone against my skin as my body rolls with the nausea building in my stomach. I grab my head between my hands, trying to steady my breathing as I rock back and forwards, memories invading my senses so convincingly it feels like I’m back in the boathouse.

I hear Tanner’s voice in my ear, hear him telling me to roll over, and I feel pieces of my heart start to splinter again as I remember how I listened to him, actually listened to him . I wanted to run, wanted to fight against him just like the first time, but I didn’t do any of those things and it kills me inside. The sense of betrayal I’ve felt since then has been like walking around with an open wound, the pain sharp and constant. I don’t understand how my body wouldn’t listen to me and try to get away, despite how badly I wanted to be anywhere but underneath him.

I rush for the toilet, making it just in time as the contents of my stomach are emptied violently into the bowl, my body shaking as I relive the sensation of Tanner in bed behind me. How his hands felt like sandpaper on the backs of my thighs, his fingers an unwelcome intrusion between my legs, probing and prodding in a place not meant for him, not meant for anyone but Jax. And all the while I did nothing to stop him. I wretch into the toilet bowl again, dry heaving over and over as the guilt consumes me.

“Breathe.” I hear the voice from behind me as slow, intentional footsteps walk into the room.

I don’t look as I sink onto the floor, curling into myself as I struggle to breathe, my lungs suddenly incapable of finding enough oxygen to fill them. I can’t bring myself to look at whoever walked up behind me, scared that I’ll look up and see Tanner’s face, and equally scared to see Jax staring back at me, to have him witness me so completely broken. Stars dance around my vision, and I struggle to place where I am, struggle to decipher what is real and what is a memory reimagined. My body lurches as sobs roll through me, and I feel as though I am being crushed by the pressure I feel closing in on me, an unbearable weight on my soul as everything I’ve been repressing surfaces at once.

“Breathe, love.” I hear the caress of his gentle words, despite him not touching me, but I feel his presence as he sits beside me. “What do you feel right now?”

“Too much,” I cry, the tears splashing against the stone floor. “I feel too much, and I want it to stop. Please, Jax, make it stop. I don’t want to feel this anymore, I can’t. I don’t want to feel anything anymore. Make. It. Stop,” I beg as tears wrack my body, as I dry heave onto the floor until I feel as though my body will break from the violence of my movements.

“What does the floor feel like?”

For a split second everything pauses, and I’m thrown by the question.

“It’s cold, and hard.” I sniffle as the tears continue to fall freely, my world spinning around me as I freefall through it.

“Good girl. What do your pajamas feel like?”

Everything pauses again, as my attention is drawn out of my panic and to myself in this moment. Up until now I forgot I was even wearing pajamas. I glance at myself and my eyes land on the dark green fabric covering my skin. I pause, trying to think how to describe what these clothes feel like before I try to explain it to Jax.

We continue like this for what feels like forever, as he asks me seemingly mundane questions about everything around me until my sobs subside and my tears dry up, my body no longer trembling from fear but instead from with aftershocks as exhaustion consumes me.

“Can I touch you, love?” His voice is calm and steady, the opposite of me right now, and I nod. Strong arms scoop me up as he carries me out of the bathroom, placing me gently on the bed. He leaves me for a second, returning with an extra blanket.

He wraps me up so I’m snug, the blankets covering every inch of my body.

“You are here. You are safe. And you are whole. There is nothing you could have done differently, nothing you should have done differently. I love you more than life itself and I will make sure that anyone who was involved in this, anyone who caused these tears to fall down your perfect face, dies.”

*

I wake to the sound of Jax talking quietly on the phone, his voice melodic as the sound of rain against the windows fills the room. The raindrops strike the glass loudly, like the tears that battered my body last night.

I feel hungover; my body is tired and sore from vomiting and crying, my energy depleted.

Jax notices me looking at him and ambles over, standing beside the bed while still talking to someone on the other end of the line. After a few more seconds of speaking, he puts his phone down on the nightside table.

“Hi,” I say tentatively, looking away, embarrassed by what he witnessed last night.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is laced with concern, and I meet his gaze. Where I expect to find pity, I find none. Instead he’s looking at me with love, with affection, and with concern.

“I don’t really know how I feel… there’s a lot I’m feeling right now. But I think I’m mainly embarrassed and tired, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, love, nothing at all.”

“I lost it last night… I don’t know why, but I lost it. I was drifting off to sleep one second and then I woke up from this dream and I went full-blown nuts. The way I acted was… I don’t even know. It was crazy and I’m sorry.”

The bed sinks beside me as Jax sits down, his thigh brushing up against my own. I can’t help but lean into him, once again feeling safe by his side, his presence and the familiar smell of leather and warm citrus that feels like home.

I meet Jax’s gaze, his green eyes focused on me as he lifts his left hand off the bed. He pauses before he touches me and as I nod, he brings it to my leg, gently stroking my thigh over the soft pajamas I’m wearing.

“You had a panic attack, love. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he replies calmly.

“You want to be with someone like this? Someone as broken as me right now?” I huff a sad laugh. “I was inconsolable. I vomited everywhere. I bit you.”

“If you think that crying and vomit is going to scare me away from you, think again, love. I’m in this for the long haul. And as for the biting… my body is your canvas to paint whatever you want on it; cover me in kisses, scratch me, bite me, do your worst, love… nothing will make me leave you.”

“This can’t be normal,” I counter.

“I think that given what happened, the trauma you’re facing, your reactions, everything you’re thinking and doing is normal. You’ve held it together for so long, forced down all these emotions, to survive what you went through. But you’ve pushed everything down for so long that all these emotions, all of this trauma, needs somewhere to go, and I think some of it has come to the surface, and I think it’s best that you work through everything.”

“I am working through it, I’m trying to work through it, I just don’t know what more to do.” I sigh. “I just don’t know why I’m not feeling better. It happened. Shit happens. Other people have it way worse than me. But no matter what I do, no matter how much I try to paint, how much I talk to you, nothing is taking the bite of the pain away. It’s like this constant hurricane inside of me, and it feels like nails down a chalkboard. I just can’t get the noise of everything that happened to stop. I can’t get rid of the memories, I can’t stop the suffocating feeling that threatens me every day.”

He wipes the tears from my cheek. “I don’t expect you to know what to do, and I don’t know what to do either. And that’s why I think you should talk to someone who knows what to do.”

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I booked you in for a session with the best psychologist in the city today at one. You don’t have to go, and I won’t make you, but I think you should consider it,” he says earnestly.

I think over what he’s said, and how I’ve been feeling. Growing up, there were two kinds of people: those that went to therapy every week to talk about everything that bothered them, seeming to flaunt everything they learned about themselves, and those that wouldn’t be caught dead in a shrink’s office. My family belonged to the latter group.

“Is it okay if I think about it?” I pick up my phone on the side table, the screen is bright against my eyes, as the cloudy sky refuses to let much natural light into the room. It’s 9:12a.m., which gives me a couple of hours to decide.

“Of course.”

He plants a gentle kiss on my forehead and I close my eyes as his lips linger. I wish I could melt into him with desire instead of exhaustion… I wish I was the same person I was a couple months ago.

He fusses over me like a mother hen, tucking me back into the blankets and shifting my pillows, before leaving to get me breakfast and a cup of tea. I think about what he said, about wanting to help me but not sure what he should do, the note of helplessness in his voice betraying his steady speech, and I realize he probably feels unsure and vulnerable too. I let myself close my eyes, listening to the rain, relaxing as the sound calms my nerves. I roll over, tucking myself further under the blankets, and just before I put my phone back on the table, I set the alarm so I’ll have time to get ready for therapy.