Falling Away Read online

  The storm was picking up, and I wondered how I was getting home, as I usually walked. I had to remember to call Shane.

  “This isn’t up for discussion.” I twisted my head at the bark coming from the nurse’s office.

  Who …?

  But the voice continued. “As I said …”

  Forgetting the reams of paper I was supposed to be collecting from under the counter, I inched toward the open door of the nurse’s office a couple of doors down the hallway.

  My short, layered black skirt wafted silently over my thighs, and I rubbed the chill from my arms, bare in their turquoise tank top.

  “Yeah, Jared. I know who our father is.”

  I stopped, my stomach doing a somersault. It was Jax. And he was talking to his brother.

  “I took a hell of a lot more beatings than you did,” he growled. “So stop trying to protect me.”

  Beatings?

  Stepping up to the open door, I tilted my head to peek inside, and instantly felt the butterflies take flight in my stomach.

  Jax was a bloody mess. Literally.

  He was dressed in long black mesh shorts with black running shoes. His hair was still pulled back tight to his scalp, but it stuck to his wet back, and I wasn’t sure if it was sweat from working out in the weight room or rain from being outside. He held his cell phone between his ear and his shoulder as he stalked around the room, apparently looking for something. Clearly having a hard time, because he was holding a hand up to a scrape on his stomach even though the one on his elbow was dripping crimson blood on the tiled floor.

  I could hear Jared’s voice on the other end, but it was too faint to make out what he was saying.

  Jax was swinging open cabinet doors and slamming them shut again, and while he appeared to be battered up, I got the feeling his irritation wasn’t about the scrapes.

  “If he gets out early, then he gets out!” he shouted, and I winced as he kicked a cabinet shut. “You get your fucking restraining order, and leave me out of it,” he commanded. “If he comes near me, I’m putting a knife in his throat.”

  And I heard Jared’s voice loud and clear this time. “Don’t give me something else to worry about!”

  Jax didn’t respond. He yanked the phone away from his ear, pushed a button, and threw it on one of the cots.

  “Son of a bitch,” he grunted, bowing his head into the arm that he had propped against the cabinet.

  His chest rose and fell quickly, his breathing labored, but I knew it wasn’t from his injuries. I stood there, chewing the inside of my lip, knowing that I should just back away and get out of there. He’d been a total ass to me ever since I got back into town.

  But instead of getting away from him, my instinct was to … what? Make sure that he was okay?

  Truth was, I actually liked seeing him like this. Completely out of control—and I was in awe.

  He was hunched forward slightly, and as the seconds passed, I heard his breathing turn slow and steady.

  I’d never seen Jax really worked up. Jared sported his temper like a flare in the sky. He shot off bold and bright, blazing through the crowd so everyone within an easy distance knew when he was angry. Jax always—always—moved with stealth and precision, as if all his decisions were premeditated and calculated. I often found myself wondering if Jax ever slept, or instead stayed up, planning his days to anticipate every conversation he might have or every turn he might have to take.

  But really, what would it take for him to lose control? Kind of like the way he just did? And why was I hungry to see his temper again?

  His father, I thought. That was definitely a twist of the screw that drove him close to the edge.

  Just like me.

  I licked my lips and spoke up. “Lie down.”

  He dropped his hand and swung around to pin me with angry eyes, as if he knew it was me right away.

  Those azure jewels held me frozen for about two seconds, and I noticed the way the flawless caramel skin of his face tightened and his jaw hardened, bringing out smooth hollows in his cheeks and the severe slant of his black eyebrows.

  Someday, I told myself. Someday we might look at each other when one of us wasn’t scowling.

  I used to be the one shooting daggers at him. Now he was looking at me as if I were a four-year-old who needed to be tolerated.

  “Lie down,” I urged, staying calm. “I’ll find the saline wash and bandages.”

  I caught sight of his eyes narrowing, regarding me suspiciously, before I veered around him to the cabinets along the wall.

  But then I felt a hand wrap around my upper arm, and I stopped to look up.

  His whole face was a mask—nothing was getting out. I followed a trail of water that cascaded down his temple to his cheekbone, and I swear a tinge of salt hit the air. I licked my lips.

  His Adam’s apple moved up and then down before he spoke. “I can do this myself.” His voice came out raspy.

  I arched an eyebrow, and my eyes dropped to his fingers wrapped around my arm. “I never said you couldn’t,” I said, and peeled one of his fingers off my arm, bringing the rest with it.

  Turning back around, I busied myself finding the wound wash and the bandages, and tried to keep myself from being aware of every move he made. My ears picked up his squeaky footsteps as he left my side and then the creak of the cot as he settled his weight.

  I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth, reaching up to grab the saline wash, and accidentally knocked a bottle of peroxide out of the cabinet. Thankfully the bottle was plastic, but I still fumbled as I dived down to snatch it off the floor.

  Jax and I were alone, and it wasn’t a fluke. I was a mess around him. Every time.

  He was half-naked and lying on a bed. The school was dark, nearly deserted, and—damn it—I squeezed my eyes shut, releasing a long, smooth breath as I shoved all the items into my arms and powered over to the cots.

  Jax was not lying down.

  I stared at him, lying half on and half off the cot, and it was only when I heard something drop to the floor that I realized my muscles were failing me and I’d dropped something. Tightening my arms closed again, I blinked and averted my eyes before dumping the supplies on the bed next to him.

  His black sneakers were planted to the floor, while the top half of his long body lay on the cot. Not so unusual. Maybe he felt vulnerable laying his whole body down.

  No, the weird part was that he’d propped himself up on his elbows, and that was what got my arms pumping with liquid nerves.

  He was going to watch.

  I took a deep breath and leaned down to open up some bandages. “Lie back,” I mumbled, feeling his eyes follow me.

  “No.”

  What?

  I shot my eyes over to him and immediately froze. Jax’s eyes stared right through me, unblinking. They slid down my tank top, and as his gaze traveled back up to my face, I saw the corner of his mouth curl, looking relaxed and amused. And that was it.

  Jaxon Trent was the goddamn devil.

  I shook my head. “I’m trying to be nice. You could, too.”

  “Nice?” He laughed to himself. “I don’t want your nice.”

  I clenched my teeth. What the hell was his problem?

  Grabbing the bottle of peroxide I’d dropped on the floor, I unscrewed the cap and poured a short stream onto the gash on his stomach.

  He hissed and grabbed some gauze, covering the wound. “What the hell?”

  “Oops,” I chirped, and screwed the cap back on.

  I dumped the bottle on the cot, kicked his feet apart, and knelt between his legs. And I watched him watch me as I placed my hands on his thighs and slowly lowered my head to his wound. Peeling his hand away, I blew a cool, light breath over his bubbling cuts, soothing the sting I’d created.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his body jerk and then go completely still as if he weren’t even breathing. I puckered my lips and blew soft breath after soft breath across his narrow abdomen, movi
ng my head side to side along the short range of shallow cuts.

  A hint of his scented body wash wafted around me, along with the rain and sweat, and I closed my eyes, losing myself to the fuzz in my brain.

  “K.C.,” he breathed out, and I looked up to see his head drop back as he closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell hard, and I couldn’t look away. His torso went on for miles, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

  He loved this, and for fuck’s sake, I was half tempted to kiss him better.

  Leaning back on my heels, I looked up at him, my lips twitching with a smile. “You like my nice,” I said, teasing.

  I smirked and stood up on my knees, grabbing the saline solution and gauze as he brought his head back up to watch me.

  “So, how did this happen?” I asked, holding the gauze on his skin, under the cuts, to catch the saline.

  His abs flexed, probably from the cold fluid, since saline didn’t sting, as I poured it over the cuts, cleaning them.

  He sucked in air through his teeth. “Some of the science kids have greenhouses on the roof,” he grunted, and I almost laughed out loud. “Masters asked me to go up and make sure the roofs were closed, but I slipped coming back down the stairs. Scraped myself on some bolts.”

  Ouch.

  I used the rest of the gauze to wipe up the solution, and then ripped open a package with a wet wipe and made sure the blood was cleared up.

  “You should be using gloves,” he pointed out. “You know? Blood and all.”

  “I thought any girl was safe with you,” I shot back, tearing open bandages. “Isn’t that what you told me?”

  Jax was silent for a minute, narrowing his eyes further and watching me as I placed three rectangular bandages on his stomach.

  “I said any girlfriend of mine,” he finally clarified. “But you shouldn’t be so careless. Use gloves next time.”

  I ignored him, feeling weird on the occasions he acted like this. Jax had a habit of scolding me, sometimes acting as though he was protecting me, and then following it all up with being an asshole. I finally figured out condescension was his way of gaining superiority. Making others feel stupid.

  I sat back, looking him in the eye and changing the subject. “Is anything else hurt?”

  He hesitated only a moment. And then folded his arm back, lifting his right elbow to reveal the scratches I’d noticed earlier.

  Repeating the same procedure, I stood up and leaned over him, catching the saline wash as it cascaded over his wound and into the gauze.

  He hissed, and I blinked.

  “Blow on it,” he ordered.

  “It doesn’t sting,” I scoffed, knowing damn well that saline didn’t hurt.

  “K.C., Jesus,” he barked, wincing.

  I rolled my eyes but gave in. Holding the underside of his arm—his hard triceps—I leaned down and released a slow, cool breeze over the scratches. Jax’s scent wafted over me again, and I desperately wanted to close my mouth so I could breathe him in through my nose.

  But I didn’t. I could tell his eyes were on me.

  “Why are you watching me?” I asked, wiping up the rest of the solution and blood.

  I didn’t look at him, but I heard him swallow.

  “This is just the first time you’ve ever made me feel good, is all,” he replied in probably the most candid way I’d ever heard him speak.

  I pinched my eyebrows together.

  The first time I’d ever made him feel good. I didn’t know what to say to that. Hell, I had nothing to say to that.

  Keeping quiet, I finished applying his bandages as fast as I could and didn’t meet his eyes again. He’d tried to be nice to me in high school. He’d tried to be a friend. Maybe friends with benefits but still a friend. Now here I was, forcing my attention on him, and he probably had no patience for me anymore.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I ventured.

  “What?”

  “That night you drove Liam home …” I swallowed, smoothing my fingers over the bandage I’d fixed to his arm. “You said you had tattoos. Too many.” I repeated his words, my eyes fixated on his forearm. “What did you mean?” I pressed, because clearly Jax didn’t sport any tattoos. His statement hadn’t made any sense.

  Even though I hadn’t looked at him, I noticed his head turn away as he inhaled a slow, deep breath. Kind of as though he was getting ready to dive deep underwater and knew he wouldn’t be up for air for a while.

  “Sorry,” I said quietly, straightening up and crumpling the bandage wrappers in my fist. “I just … I don’t know …” I trailed off. “I just want to understand.”

  I finally met his eyes, and he studied me silently. I didn’t know if he was trying to figure out what to tell me or if he wanted to tell me anything at all. Funny thing was, I’d thought about what Jax said that night a lot over the years, and while I was curious, it wasn’t until I’d overheard his conversation with Jared today that I knew it had something to do with his childhood.

  And I realized that I didn’t know Jaxon Trent at all.

  He rubbed his forearm and narrowed his eyes briefly before relaxing. “If you could get a tattoo, what would it be?”

  I blinked, shocked by his question. “Um.” I laughed softly, thinking. “I thought about a set of angel wings, I guess. With one of the wings broken,” I admitted.

  “It has something to do with your past?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “And it’s something you want to remember?” he pressed.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s why I don’t have any tattoos,” he concluded. “People get tattoos for all kinds of reasons, but they’re always badges of what has made them who they are. I don’t care to remember what and who made me this way. The people that gave me life. The people that brought me up …” He shook his head, defiant. “The places I’ve seen or anything I’ve done. It’s all in my head, anyway. I don’t want it on my body, too. I don’t care about anything that much.”

  His sneer wasn’t for me, but I knew I’d hit a sensitive area. And I kind of understood where he was coming from. The scars were on the inside—still doing their damage—and he didn’t want reminders when he looked in the mirror.

  Our friends had been lucky. Tate’s mother—although deceased—had loved her. Her dad? Always there for her. Hell, even Jared’s mom had turned out pretty awesome. And Shane’s parents were overbearing, but they were compassionate.

  And I finally saw what connected Jaxon Trent and me. How very different our lives would’ve been without our neglectful parents. Or with different parents.

  “No mothers, no fathers,” I whispered to myself.

  “Huh?”

  I blinked, shaking my head. “Nothing.”

  I barely noticed it, but when my lungs started to burn, I realized I wasn’t breathing.

  I took a deep breath and picked up the supplies, standing up. “Your brother is important to you, right?” I asked. “Jared, Madoc, Tate … Maybe someday you’ll see how lucky you really are or find something or someone you do care enough about.”

  Maybe me, too, I thought as I walked to the cabinets, putting the materials away.

  Nice and tidy, the way I had found them.

  Light flashed through the room, and moments later I heard the thunder roll outside.

  Shit. I still hadn’t called Shane.

  I heard the cot creak behind me and knew Jax had stood up. “It’s raining,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride home. Come on.”

  I turned to find him standing in the doorway, filling up the frame and slipping his gray T-shirt over his head, a tear and bloodstains visible on the material.

  Jesus. I damn near gulped at the way his ab muscles flexed and the V underneath disappeared into his shorts. The shirt draped loosely over his stomach, but the dips and curves of his biceps took up every spare bit of space in his short sleeves. Tall, with just the right amount of muscle, he was perfect. And I’d bet every woman thought the same damn thing when s
he looked at him.

  Sex.

  I turned back to the cabinets, trying to slow my breathing and not think of Jax and me alone in a car.

  “I’ll give you a ride home.” I shook my head. Yeah, hell to the no.

  “That’s okay,” I mumbled with my back to him. “I’ll call Shane.”

  “If you even think of putting your cousin on the road in this weather,” he threatened in a smooth, deep voice, “I may have to see what I can do to get you on your knees again today.”

  My face fell, and my tongue went dry. Little shit.

  “Don’t piss me off, K.C. I’ll be in front of the building in five minutes.”

  And then he was gone.

  Jax’s car used to be Jared’s. I’d seen it plenty over the years, and although it was older than Liam’s Camaro, it was definitely a hell of a lot tougher. Or maybe it just felt more solid. I don’t know. I remember being in Liam’s car, waiting at a stoplight and feeling as if the car’s engine was going to die or something. Just the way it puttered felt as though it was about to give out at any moment.

  But, sitting in Jax’s black Mustang GT, I felt as if I were sitting in a turbo jet as solid as a bullet the way it glided effortlessly through the torrential downpour. Inside, the spotless black interior was dark and narrow, like being in a cave. Outside, the wind blew sheets of rain across the windshield. I had to squint to see, because the windshield wipers could barely keep up with the downpour.

  But the car provided a haven from the rain pounding on the rooftop outside, and the spray under the tires was a distant echo.

  Even though I was safe and warm, I couldn’t shake the nerves making the hair on my arms stand up. I clenched my skirt in my fists and looked at nothing out the window.

  He was too close. And—I rubbed my fists down my warm thighs—he wasn’t close enough.

  “Here.” Jax spoke up, startling me. He reached behind in the backseat and tossed me a towel. “It’s clean.”

  Of course it was. Jax might get his hands dirty from time to time, but his clothes and his car—at least from what I’d seen on the outside—were always impeccably clean. Hell, even his house looked pristine when I’d been in there.