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“I’m sorry. I trusted my father. I trusted York. I trusted my brother. They all burned me. I let that influence how I responded to you. I won’t do it again.”
I turn fully to her again and brush her hair behind her ear. “That is exactly why you reacted like you did. And that is a lifetime of conditioning you don’t just let go of. Don’t make a promise you can’t keep. You’ll have trust issues again and we’ll deal with it when it happens. Fair enough?”
“I’m going to try not to let it happen again, but yes. And Jax?” She drags fingers over my jawline, her featherlight touches that undo me like no one else can undo me. “That means a lot to me,” she adds.
I stroke her cheek. “I’m not going to make you a promise I can’t keep either. Which is why I willneverpromise that I won’t touch you again. Because we both know I will.”
She smiles, her hand settling on my chest. “I’m glad you can’t keep that promise.”
I take her hand and kiss it. “I’ll get our clothes. We have a lot to talk about.” I try to turn away again, and she catches my arm again.
“I wish we could forget it all. I don’t want our families to be at war.”
“So, we have to end the war. And that’s what we need to talk about.”
Chapter one hundred six
Jax
Fifteen minutes after our naked make-up session, Emma and I sit at the kitchen island side-by-side, freshly filled steaming mugs of coffee beside us. I run my hand over the wooden surface of the island, with pots and pans hanging from hooks attached to the decorative hood above us. “That’s one of my only memories of my mother—outside of the red dress. She was always in the kitchen, baking cookies and drinking coffee.”
Emma sips her coffee, her green eyes filled with confusion. “That’s confusing considering she left. Was she a good mom?”
My lips press together. “I don’t know. Kids tend to glorify their parents.”
“I resemble that remark,” she says. “A little too well. As for your mother. No wonder your father built the beach house. He wanted to get you away from the painful memories.”
“He did,” I say, taking a drink and setting my mug back down. “In some ways, I wish he hadn’t.”
“Why?” she asks. “The beach house is amazing, and it became your family home.”
“It did, but I think living there, instead of here, allowed us kids to hide from the loss of our mother instead of facing it, which teaches you to hide from things. If I ever have kids, I don’t want them to learn to hide.”
“Do you want kids?”
“Right now, I don’t know if I could handle the fear for their safety. You?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I’ve never given it much thought.”
“You were engaged to York. Surely, you talked about kids.”
“No,” she says, running her finger around the rim of her mug. “We never talked about it. We were so young when we first got engaged. And then, he became a different person after he inherited.”
“As was Hunter after my father’s death.” I inhale and let the air trickle from my lips, thinking about those changes, about how damn divided we were when he died. “I don’t want to hide from Hunter’s death, Emma. I owe it to him to make this right. And we can’t hide from it anyway. If we try, it will come back to haunt us later.”
“I’m not asking you to do that, Jax. I don’t want you to do that.”
“Even if it leads to Chance?”
“I told you. If Chance killed Hunter, he’s not the man I thought he was. He’s already not the man I thought he was. I don’t know if he killed Hunter, but I think he’s covering it up. I think he knows.”
“What specifically makes you feel that?”
“I was considering that while we made the coffee. He wants my father’s journal in a bad way. What if he thinks there is something in there that exposes Hunter’s killer?” She presses a hand to her face and drops it. “What if it’s my mother, Jax?”
“Your mother?” I ask, and the earnest look on her face tells me she’s given this real consideration. “You mean because she didn’t want the bastard son to rule the kingdom?”
“Yes. Exactly. Maybe she lived with the affair but couldn’t live with whatever my father planned for Hunter’s future. Sheiscurrentlyhiding in Europe.”
