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There is a long silence on the other side of the door, and I imagine Jax has left, but I am proven wrong as his voice comes through the door again. “Okay, I will let you rest. Call out to me if you need anything.”
This time, I catch the sound of his boots receding from my room, and I breathe out a sigh. There is a part of me that wants to call out to him and live out the illusion that everything is fine, but knowing how much he wants me gone stops me from doing something careless. Well, more careless than I already have.
I stay awake for hours, wishing I was somewhere else with at least the internet so I could catch up on what’s happening with the news or even post my dumb story on an anonymous site and let strangers judge me for my poor decisions, anything to pass the time.
It’s past midnight, and I figure my chances of getting any sleep tonight are poor, so I climb out of bed to walk outside and sit on the front porch, but I am barely out of bed when a low, pained cry breaks through the silence.
The sound is not unlike that of an injured predator, lying in the wilderness somewhere with a trap around its leg, but it’s coming from inside the cabin, and it sends me running down the hall to Jax’s bedroom. My heart is pounding as I rush into his room where the lights are off and the moonlight is spilling through the open window.
My eyes cross to the bed where Jax is tangled in his sheets, sweat–soaked and trembling. His face is contorted with anguish, and I can only begin to imagine the hell he must have gone through for it to follow him into his dreams.
I approach him gently, but stay back several feet. I’ve heard how dangerous it is to wake someone experiencing a night terror. I call to him with soothing words as I try to anchor him to the present. I tell him things I’d probably never tell the man when he’s wide awake.
I confess my love and concern for him. I can voice it this way, and it slowly seems to calm him down. Once he is still and his breathing has evened out, I climb into bed next to him and wrap my small arms around his massive frame, hoping to chase away the demons plaguing him.
The close contact seems to work as his turns into me, and I hold him close, my heart aching from losing him while he’s still in my arms.
He called me his, but . . . he didn’t mean it.
Or perhaps he meant I was his only for that moment, and I read too much into it.
I was never supposed to touch you, Angel. Never supposed to do more than look, but now that I have, you belong to me. Only me
He didn’t mean those words either, and now I have to deal with the consequences of my naivety.
With a bleeding heart, I lean down and press my lips over his clammy forehead, hugging him closer to my chest and promising to help him fight his demons, for the night at least. And when morning comes, I sneak out of the room like nothing happened in the first place.
Chapter Eight
Jax
Something is wrong.
Gwen hasn’t said a word for the entirety of breakfast, which is so unlike her. She is usually very chatty and never runs out of stories to tell me, especially during our meals, but this morning, she’s been very quiet. Suspiciously so.
Something shifted last night between us, and I have no clue what it is. Every time I trace our movements from yesterday, I am reminded of a happy Gwen, but now, she won’t even look at me. I want to prod her for the truth, but I have been nursing a headache all morning. The nightmares came back last night with a vengeance, as if to make up for the nights they did not plague me while I held Gwen as we slept.
This one was the roughest. The memory of getting caught in the dunes as I lost sight of my team seems to haunt me to this day. A few years ago, when this happened, I’d been found by a teammate fairly quickly. Last night, however, it wasn’t me lost in the dunes, but Gwen, and I fought with everything I had to reach her, but something kept pulling me back.
I am surprised I managed to sleep through the night despite the horrible dream, but there was no escaping the headache and nausea when I woke up.
Today is a huge contrast compared to yesterday, and I am determined to get Gwen and me back on the right footing and fix whatever it is that is the issue, but first, I need to relieve this migraine.
I rub a finger over my temples, wincing when my phone rings. I figure the call is from Matthew since he’s the only one who knows the number to the satellite phone I keep at the cabin, so I put him on speaker.
“What?” I say in greeting, and he must not read my mood because his chirpy voice filters through.
“I have great news for you, Jax. You and Gwen are going to love it,” he says with a chuckle. “We caught the last three gang members involved in the robbery during a sting operation at a bar last night. They got stupid drunk and started boasting about robbing a bank and stealing something from a safety deposit box. The bartender was an undercover cop. They basically fell right at our feet.”
Fuck!
“You caught them?” Gwen whispers, speaking for the first time all morning.
Matthew must catch her quiet words because he answers, “That’s right, Gwen. Now you don’t have to put up with my grumpy brother much longer. I know how he can be.”
Long seconds tick by without either of us breathing a word, and Matthew must catch it because he hurries to cover the silence with a chuckle.
“Anyway, I was just calling to tell you that you can come back home now. You’re safe. Everyone involved with the robbery is in custody, and I’m confident the Hunts Point Kraits are too weak and scattered to bother with you.”
