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He steps forward another step. Rory gives a small shake of his head at the guy, then reveals the .45 at his side discreetly. “Not the time or the place, tough guy,” he says venomously.
The guy looks us over for a split second before moving out of our way with a shrug.
On the way back to the airport, Rory is on the phone with Christian, his tech guy asking him to clean up the audio on the video.
I’m quietly contemplating what I want to do. My rage and fury is building my the second. I don’t say a word the entire drive back to the airport. I don’t say a word the entire flight home.
All I can hear in my head are Zoey’s screams night after night. I hear her sobs when she thinks I’m sleeping. I see her curled up in that fucking shower floor.
Before I reach my car, Rory grabs me by the shoulder turning me around. “Don’t you do a goddamn thing. Do you understand me?”
I scoff. It’s an impossible request. “You want me to sit back and do nothing?”
“I want you to wait. Let me figure a few things out.”
“How? How the fuck can I sit back and do nothing after seeing that? After knowing what I know?” I demand.
“That’s exactly what I expect. And that’s exactly what Zoey needs right now. She didn’t tell you because of this right here, Jax. She didn’t want you to fly off the handle, and take matter into your own hands.”
I shrug out of his grip. “She didn’t tell you either. How do you interpret that?”
“That she doesn’t want me to fly off the handle either. That’s why I said give me time to figure this out.” I shake my head and start to argue, but he cuts me off. “Go back to her, Jay. She needs you as much now as a she did a year ago. Maybe more.”
And just like that, guilt and shame mix with the rage. I should never have left her there. I should have picked her up and held her until she realized she was safe.
When I walk into the apartment, it nearly dawn. I walk into our room expecting to find her asleep, but instead I hear the shower running. It occurs to me this is the only thing she does anymore. And now I know why.
I strip out of my clothes and walk into the bathroom. She’s curled on the floor again, making me wonder how many times she’s done this.
I step into the shower and pick her up. Sitting on the bench, I cradle her in my arms. I understand now. I know what’s happen. But still I say, “Talk to me, Zoey. Please, baby?”
A sob tears through her. Her entire body quakes and heaves with a gut wrenching howl. I gently run my hand up and down her back.
She looks up at me. Her face and eyes red from crying. “You didn’t come home last night,” she whispers.
“I’m here now, but you’ve got to talk to me, baby.”
“I don’t want to talk. I want to forget. Please, Jax, make me forget,” she reaches up, trying to kiss me. I give in for a moment, loving the feel of her lips on mine.
Then I remember that far away, despondent look she gets. Gently, I pull her away. “No, baby. We’ve tried that. It doesn’t work.”
The look of rejection on her face nearly decimates me. “You don’t want me?”
I rest my chin on the top of her head and sigh. “Angel, I want you. Always have. Always will. But I can’t keep losing you. When you’re not there with me, I feel like an asshole.”
“I’m sorry,” she cries.
I place a kiss on the top of her head. “What did I tell you about ‘sorry’. I just want you to talk to me. What happen at that party, Zoey?” She stiffens then begins to remove herself from my lap. I grab her waist to stop her. “No more running, Zoey. Tell me.”
Her eyes turn hard and cold. Bitterness and anger edge their way into her voice. “I. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. Why aren’t you getting that?”
I let go of her as she struggles against my hold. I stand to meet her. “Oh I get it. I’m just over it. Talk to me.”
“You’re over it,” she bites. “Good for you, Jax. I’m glad you’re fucking over it.”
And I see it. That spark of life. That fire. She’s pissed and ready to fight. This is what I need her to do.
Fight.
