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Chapter Forty-Six
Jax
My blood boils as we sit and discuss everything that has happened with Cordelia. I’ve taken a seat once again, but it takes a concentrated effort to keep still.
How can a person be this evil?
“Start again, what do we know for sure?” I ask.
“Guys,” Raven interrupts softly. “Before we go over this again, you might want to sort the test out, that way we can get it in today’s post before it gets too late.”
“Good point,” Thorn agrees.
We turn to the instructions on the kit and Baxter quickly reads through them.
“So we just have to swab our cheeks, bag and label the swabs, then post?” Rebel murmurs. “Huh, who knew it could be so simple?”
“I’ll go and get Phoenix’s sample,” Raven offers, before slipping from the room silently.
I get to my feet and follow her, watching as she disappears into the conservatory turned playroom to speak to Phoenix. I peek round the corner and watch the two of them interacting. Phoenix doesn’t hesitate to let Raven swab her cheek, and in return Raven gives her a small chocolate bar. I watch as Phoenix’s eyes light up and, instead of diving straight into the treat as most kids would, she throws her arms around her mum for a massive cuddle. It’s sweet. She’s a sweet little thing.
I watch her play for a moment trying to find clues as to who she belongs to. Is that stubborn set of her jaw when she can’t quite do something a part of me? Her easy delightful laughter when she masters it is just like Thorn.
Seeing Phoenix again, hearing Raven apologise, discovering what Cordelia is up to...well, it changes things.
I don’t mean to bounce around like a yo-yo, but a lot of the anger has left me. No, that’s not right, it’s been displaced. Rechanneled to its rightful place: Cordelia.
I don’t hate Raven. I don’t think I ever could, even if Phoenix wasn't in the picture and potentially mine. I’m going to have to let things go, forgive and forget, because we’ve got one hell of a battle on our hands. Regardless of who Phoenix’s father is, or what happens romantically with Raven, I need to support my brothers. One of us is a father, and for whatever reasons - right or wrong - we’ve missed out on nearly four years of being a dad. I’ll stand by my family to rectify that and to ensure that whoever it is gets the chance to be the best parent that they can to Phoenix. But that isn’t going to happen if Cordelia gains custody and ships Phoenix off to a boarding school.
“Jax?” Raven’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I realise I just got caught spying. “You okay? Do you need something?”
I shake my head no, because I don’t need anything. I just wanted to see Phoenix. I wondered if, just by seeing her, I’d instinctively feel something…if I’d automatically know if she’s mine or not.
“I felt something,” I say without thinking, then promptly want to smack myself in the face. “But I’m confused.”
“I understand,” she says in a low voice that’s free of judgement. “Whatever the outcome, we’ll always be here. There’s time to build any kind of relationship with Phoenix - and me - that you’d like.”
Her kind words, when I’ve behaved so appallingly, hit me hard. She’s a good person. She’s not malicious or cruel. She never set out to intentionally hurt us.
“You really care about us all, don’t you?” I realise.
“Always,” she smiles sadly. “Can’t turn it off.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” she says earnestly. “I’m done with secrets.”
“Why did you flee the house the other night? Ace called after he spoke to you, we all came over and searched this place high and low, but we couldn’t find any signs of an intruder or anything.”
“I...I...don’t know. I heard something and I just freaked out. I tried to stay calm, be logical, check the security cameras - thank you by the way - but it didn’t work. I had a full blown panic attack and just had to get out of there.”
“Princess,” I say softly, tugging her gently into my arms and folding her into my embrace, holding her close for a moment. “Did you come back too soon?”
To my surprise, she allows me to hug her and stills at my chest. Tucked up under my chin I can clearly smell her shampoo and the faint remnants of her perfume. She must still use the same products because memories flood me when I close my eyes and inhale her scent.
“What choice did I have?” she says.
“Do you want to be somewhere else?” I feel her hesitate, and I add quickly, “If money wasn’t an issue, would you move?”
