An hour later we're sitting together at the kitchen table, Blue on the floor between us. Her instincts were on the money; this is the perfect dinner for a day like today.
"When did you start cooking?" I ask, going back to the stove for seconds.
"I really don't know. It feels like I've always been doing it. I used to watch my mom as she prepared meals. Even the most basic things. Meatballs, meatloaf, chicken, spaghetti, steak. I'd watch and ask questions. Why was she drying off the chicken before she put salt and pepper on it? Why did she add this or that to the recipe? What was the difference in taste? Eventually it got to the point where I was making suggestions. Maybe some grated cheese in the meatballs, a little garlic in the jarred pasta sauce. Then I took over. Baking has always been my real passion, though."
"So it's not like you had to do it."
"No, I wanted to. It was a natural interest of mine. I think every person is born with a natural interest, you know? Only some of us get lucky enough to pursue it, though."
"Not that I think you need the help, but why not look into culinary school? Even though you already have the coffee shop. If it's what you really love to do?"
Her face gets stony. I hit a nerve. What is it about her? Why do I even care? And what the hell is she hiding from me? All I want to do is throw her over my shoulder and take her to bed with me, which is the most bizarre reaction to have at the moment but it's how I feel. I want to take her, make her forget everything for a little while. Maybe I can forget, too.
Then there goes that damned phone again. Finally, I have to ask, putting down my fork and looking her straight in the eye.
"Do you wanna tell me who the fuck has been messaging you all day? Not once have I seen you take the phone from your pocket, even though it's been buzzing literally all afternoon. What's going on? Are you hiding from somebody?"
She's silent, staring down at her bowl. "Please let it go," she murmurs. I think I hear a tremble in her voice. Now I know something's wrong.
"Why won't you tell me what's going on? Is it really that bad? Listen, I know we don't know each other well, but I can tell it's bothering you. I just wanna help, if I can."
"You can't help." There's finality in her voice. Like she's living with a death sentence. "Besides, it's really not a big deal. If I ignore him, he'll go away."
"Him?" She's painting a pretty vivid picture for me without meaning to. Is she running away from some asshole? There's only one reason why she would. She's not dishonest. I don't see her stealing from a man or cheating. She's not a coward. She's stood up to me a bunch of times already. She's scared to death of this guy, though.
"Let me see the phone," I say as quietly as I possibly can. Already my blood's boiling and I haven't seen what he sent yet.
"No." A violent shake of the head. This only spurs me on.
"Show me. Please." Again, a shake. I decide to take it, my hand darting out to swipe it from her pocket before she can stop me. She's leaning forward, making it easy to grab.
I heard her crying out, trying to stop me, cursing at me. But her words aren't registering because the blood is rushing through my ears as I read the sick shit this guy has been texting her. I hold up a hand, signaling her to stop talking. I hear what sounds like a whimper coming out of her as she puts her face in her hands.
"Who is this guy? A boyfriend?" I look at the name. Tommy.
"Ex. I left him."
"I don't think I have to ask why after reading this." My voice is tight. I'm barely keeping my rage under control. Scrolling up, I see things started innocently enough this afternoon. Begging her to please at least let him know she's alive by replying to him. Begging her to take him back. Give him one more chance. He'll make it up to her. They can be happy again. Why doesn't she want to be happy with him anymore? He knows there's somebody else. Why is she doing this to him? How could she have cheated on him? How can she be such a bitch? He'll make her see how much she's hurt him. She's a stupid cunt. He'll make her pay for this. He'll make her wish she'd never made a fool out of him. She'll be sorry when he finds her.
And she's crazy if she thinks he won't find her. She can't hide from him.
I look up at her but all I can see is red. I have to kill this son of a bitch. "I'm guessing you didn't leave him because he's such an awesome guy," I say.
"Please let it go," she pleads. But I can't. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's violence against women. It doesn't help that I happen to like this woman in particular.
"Just tell me what happened. Why did you leave him? Did this just start after you left?"
A sad head shake. "He … hit me. Lots of times. I was a stupid bitch, a cunt, worthless. I finally got the nerve to leave, but he just started sending me these messages not long ago. A few weeks. I don't even know how he got my new cell number, unless he called my mom and tricked her into giving it to him. I never told them … you know. How bad it was. I was too ashamed. They didn't know any better."
I need to kill him. Or at least beat him within an inch of his life.
"Look, I'm going to block his number." She holds her hand out now, wanting the phone. I hand it over, my mind racing with plans for how I intend to find this son of a bitch and beat the shit out of him. I watch as she does just like she said she would.
"I should have blocked him right away, but I didn't. I don't know why. I guess I was just afraid of how much angrier he'd be if I never responded to him." She looks at me, and she doesn't have to finish her thought because I can see what she's trying to say. She feels safe with me. Like I'll protect her. And the thing is I want to protect her. I want to be sure this guy doesn't hurt her.
At the same time, I almost feel sorry for her, for being so naïve as to think I'm her safe bet. But between me and the asshole sending those texts I guess I am.
He's not safe, though. Because I'm gonna find him, and I'm gonna make him hurt.
Chapter 10
Christina
I can't sleep now, not after sharing what I did earlier. There's a storm inside me now.
Even though I'm relieved, somewhat, to not be carrying this burden on my own anymore, I can't stop my mind from racing. What's Tommy going to do now that I blocked him? When he sees I have no intention of replying, he's going to spiral out of control, I know it. I have to try to get in contact with my mom in the morning, to ask if she gave him my new address. I'm terrified that he's going to show up out of the blue.
Jax will keep me safe. That's the thought that keeps popping into my head every time I get too worried. He'll protect me. But I won't always be with him, will I? What happens when I leave? And I do have to leave eventually, of course. I can't be with him forever. Once I'm alone, I'll be vulnerable.
I'm even more attracted to him than ever. I saw the rage in his eyes and it turned me on. What's wrong with me that I actually, legitimately got hot when I saw how badly he wanted to hurt Tom once he read those texts? What's broken inside me?
Whatever it is, it made me want Jax even more. I'm aching for him, as wrong as it is. I squeeze my legs together, noting how warm and tingling I am. He's just what I need right now. Someone strong, powerful, commanding, even dangerous. But not to me. To the person who hurt me. It's like an aphrodisiac, knowing there's a person who'd be willing to hurt another person for my sake. And I know he would. I get the feeling he's chomping at the bit.
Yes, I want him. But for now, we're back in bed. In separate rooms. And I'm struggling to finally fall asleep and forget this for a while. Sleep is elusive, though. I wonder if some warm milk wouldn't help. Maybe with a little whiskey. Do the two even go together? Well, it's worth a try. I'm desperate enough to try anything at this point.
I pad downstairs, two pairs of knee socks quieting my footsteps. I stop short when I see Jax there, by the fire. He's wearing boxers and nothing else, just as he did last night. I'm torn between wanting to turn away and slip back upstairs before he notices me and wanting to go to him. He's like a magnet, drawing me closer against my will.
It's too late. He knows I'm standing here, his head moving ever so slightly in my direction. As though he can't decide what he should do either.
My feet are moving before I know what I'm doing, taking me to his side. I stand there, next to him, feeling the heat from both the fire and his body, burning into me. One strong, muscular arm slides around my waist before he looks up into my eyes. We don't need to say a word. There's nothing to say now, anyway.
I straddle his lap, pulling the oversize tee over my head and throwing it to the floor before wrapping my arms around his neck. He sighs, pulling me close for another soul-shattering kiss. I've never been kissed like this before, so completely. Like he's trying to reach inside me and draw me out. We're both searching for something as our tongues wrap around each other. But we're not as frantic as we were this afternoon. We're going slow, taking our time.