by K. C. Crowne
The thing that solidified it in my head was that he hadn't really been looking for anything at the bar – especially not sex. Call it a gut feeling, but I thought he was honest with me about it being a while for him too. There was just a kind of primal urgency to his fucking that I didn't think guys in stable relationships had. But then again, what did I know about men and relationships? All I had to do was look at my cluster-fuck of a situation with Derek. What was more than obvious though, was that we’d both needed that release. And now that we'd achieved that, now that we were both sated came the hard part – how to end things. Because as much fun as it had been, eventually, I had to go back to my penthouse and to my world, and that was no place for a guy like Jax.
Before I could make any sort of decision though, exhaustion hit, and sleep took over.
Jax
I stared up at the strange ceiling, listening to her breathing in her sleep. I was surprised that she'd fallen asleep as quickly as she had, leaving me to decide – should I be there when she woke up, or should I see myself out? I wasn't entirely sure what the protocol or common courtesy for these sorts of situations was, so I hesitated. I wasn’t a hit it and quit it kind of guy. I hesitated for too long, apparently, because my eyes grew heavy and eventually, I didn't have to worry about making a choice.
My choice was made for me as I drifted off to sleep.
The next thing I remember hearing was the water running in the bathroom. Rolling over, I noticed the bathroom door was propped open, the light on and steam rolling out. Maddy was in there, showering. Now was my chance to sneak out and get away unnoticed.
Not that I wanted to do that – it felt like a dick move – but all signs pointed to this being a one-night stand. She knew where I stood. I'd been honest in telling her that I wasn't in the right place for anything serious. She'd just gotten out of a relationship, so assuming she was being honest with me – and I had no reason to believe otherwise – she wasn't in a place to be looking for anything serious either.
One night of fun, that was it. That was the deal. I didn't think it was common to take your one-night stand out for breakfast the next day, but hell, what did I know? I'd never had one before. I'd always favored relationships or a longer-term friend with benefits sort of arrangement over random hookups.
Which was what made everything about the whole situation so strange. I was in entirely new territory right then. In the past, I'd have turned something like it down. But Maddy was different. Something about her really resonated with me in ways I couldn't put into words. I could tell she needed it as much as I had, and well, she was gorgeous; easily the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on in real life. She looked like a model straight out of a magazine.
I was still conflicted about my exit and what to do about it. Slipping out from under the covers and sitting up on the bed, I glanced at the clock. It was only six in the morning. No wonder I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. We'd gotten, what, maybe two or three hours of sleep? Not that it mattered. I could always go home and go back to bed once I bailed out of here. It wasn't like I had anything going on with my mandatory time off anyway.
I stood and pulled my jeans back on. I was turned away from the bathroom, but I heard the water shut off. As I felt a sudden spike of adrenaline, I hurried and tossed my shirt back on as well.
“Hey, you,” Maddy said as she stepped into the room.
She sounded cheerful. A good sign that I hadn't overstayed my welcome or that her taking a shower was actually her giving me cover to get out. I turned and found her standing there in nothing but a towel. Her hair was wet and clung to the sides of her face and she was completely free and stripped of all makeup. Even still, she was so fucking beautiful that I forgot how to speak for a moment. Her eyes were so blue they were crystal clear – like water in the Caribbean Sea – and her smile was bright enough to light up the sky. She was a little too chipper for it being six in the morning, but I wouldn't hold being a morning person against her.
Not when she looked like that.
“Mornin',” was all I could muster.
“Listen,” she said, nibbling her lower lip as she leaned against the bathroom door frame, “I'm sorry I have to kick you out so early, but I have to be at work here in an hour. I have an important meeting I need to get to. You know how it is.”
I didn't. Not really. I’d never worked a day in the corporate world, but I could take a hint. I needed to see my ass out of there. That was the actual subtext of her words. Message received.
“Ah, yes, I was just getting dressed,” I said. “I'll be out of your hair in no time.”
“It's not like I want you to leave,” she stammered. “I don't mean to push you out or anything, it's just that –”
“Maddy, it's okay,” I said, giving her a wide smile. “We both knew what we were getting into. We both knew what this was all about. Nothing serious and no hard feelings.”
“Yeah,” she said, averting her gaze. “I've never done anything like this before so it's kind of weird.”
“Me neither,” I said.
“Really?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Yeah, why, do I look like the type who has one night stands often?”
“No, not really. It's just – don't most men like sleeping around a bit?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Don't they make a point of hooking up with new women every chance they can get?”
I chuckled and cocked an eyebrow. “Not all men are like your ex, Maddy. Trust me. I've never been a random hookup type of guy.”
She didn't say anything else, so I reached for my shoes. As I did, my eyes fell on the broken bed frame and I cringed. I had no idea how much a bed like that would cost, but I knew I had to take care of it. No way I could let it go that easily and just leave it for her to deal with on her own. I wasn't wired like that. I pulled my wallet from my jeans and grabbed a few twenties out of it.
Maddy looked offended, scrunching up her nose like she smelled something bad and shook her head. When she looked at me, it was with something akin to indignation on her face.
“I'm not a prostitute, Jax.”
“No, no, it's nothing like that,” I said, stifling my laughter. “It's for the bed. I helped destroy it too, if I remember correctly.”
Her face softened and she smiled, still shaking her head. “I already told you, I can take care of it.”
I dropped the cash on the table next to the bed, ignoring her death stare.
“It's only right,” I said. “I played a part in breaking it, at least let me pay a part in repairing or replacing it.”
Even with the nice studio of hers, I couldn't imagine that a real estate agent made a whole hell of a lot of money. I guess they could, theoretically, in a place like New York City, but even if she made millions doing what she did, I'd still insist on paying for the bed. That's just who and how I was. I took nothing for granted and I paid my own way in all things.
“Anyway, I better get going,” I said, running a hand through my hair.
It was getting a bit long, and I'd need to cut it soon for work, but having time off meant I could ignore it for a bit longer. She walked me to the door, still in her towel which somehow managed to stay in place. Except for a hint of cleavage and lots of leg, I didn't see much else.
I was a bit disappointed. It was the last time I'd see this gorgeous woman and I found myself wanting her image to burn itself into my brain. Give me something to think about during my lonely nights at home.
She opened the door for me, but before I could leave her apartment, she grabbed my arm. I stopped and turned to face her.
“Wait,” she said.
“What is it?” I asked.
She didn't answer me with her words. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed me. Her lips were soft and lush, and feeling her body pressed against mine caused a stirring in my groin that couldn't be ignored or denied. Fuck. This woman drove me absolutely batshit crazy.
When she pulled away, I ass
umed that was it. I stared into her baby blue eyes and planned to say goodbye – preparing myself to never see her again. But Maddy had a surprise up her sleeve for me.
“Can I see your phone really fast?” she asked.
“Why?”
“To give you my number,” she chirped. “You know, in case you need to blow off some steam again soon.”
I couldn't hold back the grin that stretched across my face. No, I didn't want anything serious right then, but the idea of never seeing Maddy again had weighed heavily on me. Hearing that there was a chance for us to meet up again, even just for a fling – well, I was all for that. There was something about her that compelled me. She pulled at me in ways I didn't understand. All I knew was that I liked being with her – and wanted to be with her again.
I handed her my phone and let her do her thing. When she handed it back to me, I noticed that her name was entered as Maddy. Just Maddy. No last name.
She was a woman of mystery, and for some reason, that intrigued me even more.
ooo000ooo
Carla Cruz could see me later that day. After getting home, I had just enough time to shower and head over to her office. Part of me wanted to put it off, but the longer I waited, the longer I'd be out of work. And God knew, I needed to get back to work. Not even a day into my mandatory vacation and I was getting antsy.
It was hard to believe that the woman sitting before me was old enough to be a therapist. I imagined most shrinks to be old white men, but Carla was a petite Hispanic woman with a pixie cut and big, brown eyes. But if I had any ideas about not taking her seriously, that was thrown right out the window when I saw the plaques behind her desk.
“Surprised?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at me. “You wouldn't be the first.”
On her desk was also a photo of her in a Marine Corps uniform, which was even more surprising. Not because I didn't think woman could be Marines, but because she didn't look old enough to complete her time in the service and get her Master’s degree to be a therapist. I sat on the sofa, arms crossed in front of me. Not even a few minutes into our appointment and I was already defensive. Not a good sign.
“You see, Jaxon -- May I call you Jaxon?” she asked.
“Sure, but most people call me Jax,” I said.
“Okay then, Jax. Let me tell you a bit about myself and why I'm qualified to work with men and women who face the things you do on a daily basis,” she said. “Or better yet, let me show you.”
She swirled around in her office chair and raised her pant leg up, showing off a prosthetic. My jaw loosened, and I started to speak, but anything I could think of sounded trite.
She held up her hand. “Don't apologize to me,” she said. “I'm so tired of people feeling sorry for me.”
“Alright,” I muttered.
She dropped the pant leg and continued speaking. “I lost my leg in Afghanistan only a month into my duty there. Almost lost my life too. When I came back here, part of me thought maybe I should have died back there.”
I kept my mouth shut, fighting the urge to tell her I was sorry to hear it. It was harder than I thought. I’d come to the appointment expecting to talk about myself, instead, I was seeing into her life. It made me realize that things could be worse for me. I still had all my limbs.
“I'm telling you this because I understand all too well what it's like to give your everything and still come up short. I went into the service to fight for my country, to save lives. It had always been a dream of mine. When I lost that dream, I had to figure something else out.”
“You seem to have done well for yourself,” I said, motioning at the office around us.
It was a nice office in a high-rise in downtown. Rents couldn't have been cheap. She had to have made a killing talking to people about... well, whatever it is they talk about in therapy. I still had no idea at that point.
“I have,” she said, smiling gently. “But it wasn't easy. I had to work like hell to get here, to get myself in a better mindset. Or else, I would end up being another statistic, another dead veteran who couldn't handle returning to civilian life.”
“With all due respect, I don't understand why you're telling me all this.”
She smiled even wider, steepling her fingers in front of her as she studied me. I didn't like her scrutinizing me. I knew she wasn't checking me out, watching my non-verbal cues. My jaw tightened up, my posture stiffened.
“Jax, your chief referred you to me because like others I've helped, we've all lost something in our lives. Something important. Maybe you haven't lost a limb, but you’ve lost something; maybe a sense of normalcy or the ability to compartmentalize your work and your feelings. And I'm here to help you move past it.”
A knot formed in my throat, and I looked away from her. Studying the photo of her on the desk. She had slightly longer hair then, a younger face. In fact, seeing the photo of her made me think twice about her being young. She had a youthful face, but there were lines around her lips and eyes that were only obvious when you compared her to the glowing eighteen-year-old Marine in her photograph.
“Who - or what - did you lose, Jax?” she asked me.
The knot in my throat grew larger. My heart raced, and I wanted nothing more than to run from the room. To flee and never come back. To never face the past. I'd done okay so far, right? Well, no, obviously not since Tim made you come here.
“If you're not ready to talk about that right now, it's fine,” she said, her voice softening. “But in time, I think it would help if you opened up to me, Jax.”
I sighed. She'd get it out of me one way or another. That's how shrinks worked.
“I lost my mom when I was a teen,” I said slowly. “In a fire.”
I expected the same pity I got from everyone when I told them about my mother, but Carla didn't say anything at first. She seemed to process what I was saying, watching me to gauge what the best reaction might be. Finally, she said, “Thank you for trusting me with that.”
Her words surprised me. Trust her? Did I already trust her? I wasn't sure. I just wanted to go through the motions and get my job back. I looked at her again, and really studied her features. There seemed to be more lines across her face, and a look in her eyes that said she knew suffering and loss as well as anyone else did.
Hell, maybe she was right. Maybe I did trust her.
“And what about your dad?”
“What about him?” I asked, recoiling at the mention of my father.
“Was he there for you? Did he provide the support you needed to handle your mother's death?”
“My dad was a shrink,” I said dryly.
She seemed confused. “Okay, but you avoided my question.”
“Aren't all shrinks supposed to supportive and shit?” I said.
She chuckled, then apologized and stifled it. “Oh no. There are many who don’t belong in the field, I'm afraid. They give the rest of us a bad name.”
I leaned back in the sofa, relaxing even more. I thought about my father, and how he tried to make me come to terms with my mom's death. Obviously, it hadn't worked, or I wouldn't be there, in Carla's office, right? And maybe, just maybe, it's where my disdain for therapists came from. Hours upon hours of my father asking me questions, studying me like I was a lab rat. Scrutinizing everything I said, every move I made, all so he could write about it in his book. A book which flopped big time, by the way, but it still caused a rift between us. One which I never could get past.
“He was one of those,” I said softly.
Carla sighed and rubbed her temples. She shook her head, but still offered a small, friendly smile.
“I was afraid of that,” she said. “It just means we have a lot more work to do. We have to undo the damage he's done to you first of all.”
“A lot more work? Wait. Losing my mom sucked for sure. And so did having a shitty dad, but that’s not why I’m here. I got over that. It’s why I became a fireman. I’m here because my chief thinks the shit I see every day is gettin
g to me. We don’t need to rehash my youth,” I rambled, feeling a panic start to well up inside me.
Carla studied me for a few moments, her scrutiny doing nothing to ease my tension.
“When can I go back to the firehouse?” I asked.
She shrugged. “That's not up to me, Jax.”
“Is it up to the chief?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, it's up to you.”
Her answer didn't make sense right then. No, it wasn't up to me. The chief had told me I was to take time off. If it were up to me, I’d still be on the job, fighting fires with my crew. I'd have pushed past any and all feelings of darkness and continued working. Eventually, we'd save some lives and I would get back to my damn life.
If it were up to me, I’d never have even stepped foot in Carla’s office.
If it were up to me, I’d still be in bed with Maddy.
Clearly, none of it was up to me.
ooo000ooo
When I left Carla's office, I found myself more confused than anything else. I had no answers, I didn't feel better. I still felt numb and pissed off that I couldn't work. Not having anything to do for the remainder of the day, I texted Finn while on the subway back home.
It was his day off. Maybe we could do something together, I thought. Grab a beer, play some pool. Something besides me sitting inside my apartment and staring at the fucking walls.
Instead of a text back, Finn called me. I answered.
“Sorry, on the subway. Reception is spotty. What's up?”