All of Nothing

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All of Nothing Page 15

by Vania Rheault


  Jax nodded tersely, hesitant to leave her alone with him. Who knew what Axel would say to change her mind? But he couldn’t police Raven, either, and reluctantly, he went half way up the stairs, just enough he knew he wouldn’t be visible to them, if they looked.

  “Raven, don’t do this,” Axel pleaded.

  Jax leaned against the dirty wall, his heartbeat rushing in his ears. He didn’t know why this was so important, why all of a sudden he needed Raven with him. It wasn’t he was afraid to be alone—he’d been alone between relationships plenty of times.

  But his house felt different with her in it. Lighter.

  Raven gave him a sense of hope.

  That maybe one day, he would be able to get past what he’d done.

  “Axel . . . I need to. I can’t explain it.”

  “I can give you whatever he can,” Axel said, his voice floating up to Jax.

  “Can you?” she asked. “Can you give me decent clothes, food? An education? He’s willing to give that to me, for what, I don’t know. I told him to leave me here, that I would still give him my signature on those stupid papers, but he won’t let me, now. I would be a fool not to take what he’s offering me.”

  “I can give you more than that,” Axel said, and there was a rustling Jax couldn’t identify. A silence that made Jax’s skin pucker with goosebumps.

  They were kissing.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  Jax almost missed it.

  “Axel—”

  “No, don’t say it. I haven’t said anything because, you’re right. I can’t give you what he can. But together we can give it a shot, huh? A better apartment, maybe. Not on Z Avenue. We could get jobs.”

  “I can’t get a job without an education. Don’t you remember? I don’t even have my GED,” Raven said, her voice low, breathless. “And where would we get money for an apartment? We don’t have fifty dollars between us, and I can’t sleep on Elle’s cot forever. It’s not her job to take care of me. It’s not yours, either.”

  “But it’s Jax’s?” Axel said, bitterness saturating his words.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll come back for you.”

  “Yeah, right. Sure, you will. A few months in his palace, and you’ll forget all about us.”

  “I could never forget about you.”

  Jax strained to hear. More rustling.

  “Don’t be mad at me,” Raven said, her voice full of tears.

  “Just be careful, sweetheart. I meant what I said.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Raven’s ashen face appeared, as she took the steps to the exit, and Jax turned away, chagrined he’d been caught eavesdropping. But she didn’t seem to mind. “I’m ready.”

  Jax slipped on his overcoat, the divorce papers he did indeed carry with him rubbing against his heart.

  Grateful he’d won this round, he put his arm around Raven’s fragile shoulders, and led her out into the cold night.

  Jax pushed her down onto the toilet seat and swept her hair away from her neck. “Let me clean this up for you before you go to bed.”

  “You don’t have to. I can do it.”

  The ride home had been quiet, neither speaking. Jax didn’t know how to address what Axel told Raven before they left Club Nova. If she loved him in return, it wasn’t Jax’s place to interfere, didn’t want to be the man who stepped between them.

  Yet, his pulse had gone into overdrive when he’d buckled her into his car and drove away, with no last minute decisions from her to turn around.

  “I want to,” he said, searching for a bandage and peroxide in the medicine cabinet. “In case you need stitches.”

  The bright light made him wince, but he needed to see what he was dealing with. Dr. Monroe would make another house call if need be, even at this time of morning.

  “I don’t think he hurt me that badly,” she said.

  “We won’t know until we clean up some of the blood. This will hurt a bit, I think,” he warned her as he lifted a cotton swab dripping with peroxide to her skin.

  She shivered.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get there faster,” Jax said, smoothing the cotton ball over the blood that still oozed from the cut.

  “I didn’t thank you, and I should have. Damien . . . I don’t like thinking about it, but yeah, he could have hurt me.”

  “He did,” he corrected her, smoothing a new cotton ball along the cut, the liquid fizzing white.

  “Not like that,” she whispered, placing her hand on his arm.

  Jax shook his head. “You wouldn’t have let him do that to you. When it came down to it, you would have defended yourself. I have no doubt.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  He lifted her face with a finger under her chin. “I know I am.”

  Jax threw the cotton ball away and reached for another. “I, ah, didn’t know you were that close to Axel. You never said anything, the first time you stayed here, that you were leaving behind someone you . . . loved.”

  Jax wanted a denial that didn’t come.

  “I’ve hardly left him behind. Z Avenue may feel a million miles away from here, but it’s not. I can see him whenever I like, can’t I?”

  Jax stilled. While he’d seen no reason why Lucia and Raven couldn’t live in the same house, he’d been mistaken and wouldn’t go through that again, even with the roles reversed. “I . . . had hoped you would be busy with your tutoring sessions. And Mariah has missed you.”

  As he fastened a large bandage over the cut, she asked, “How long, Jax? How long will this last?”

  He shifted to his knees and knelt in front of her. “Let’s play it by ear, okay?

  His heart dipped when she shook her head. “I need some sort of time frame. I can’t not know from day to day if it will be the last because you’re tired of me being underfoot.”

  Jax grazed her hair with a trembling hand, fatigue weighing him down. “Summer then. Give me three months.”

  She tilted her head, and Jax realized his mistake. “I mean, I’ll give you three months to get your life straightened out. That’s all I can spare. If you can’t do it in that amount of time, you’re on your own.”

  That sounded more like him, gruff, unkind, unforgiving, and her face smoothed.

  “Okay. Three months.”

  He left her wetting a washcloth with the intent of giving herself a sponge bath before crawling into bed.

  Jax rested his forehead against the wall outside her room, his skin prickling with nausea.

  He had three months.

  It didn’t feel like enough.

  Raven slid between the fresh sheets—someone had laundered her bedding while she’d been gone. She regretted her prickly legs and wished she’d taken a shower before crawling into bed. But the clock read after three in the morning and worry and stress weighed heavy on her mind and heart.

  Somehow staying with Jax had turned into spending time with him instead of cleaning herself up enough to go home. This was the best way to go about it, but her time in Jax’s house wasn’t all about finding her way onto her parents’ good side again.

  And that wasn’t good.

  He’d changed in the few weeks she’d been living in his house. Grown softer. His fingers had whispered over her neck, cleaning the cut, and there’d been a kindness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He seemed to sincerely regret what Lucia had done to her.

  Raven pushed her head into the pillow.

  She couldn’t let herself think his transformation into a kinder man had anything to do with her.

  Possibly she’d helped him see what a bitch Lucia was, but that was all. He’d probably already known but didn’t care. People married for all sorts of strange reasons, but it would make her life easier that he didn’t seem to mind breaking his engagement with the evil woman.

  Although, she was assuming now. He may have made her move out, but they could still be engaged. It wasn’t something that was any of her business; Raven was just relie
ved she didn’t have to fear bumping into her again.

  Axel’s revelation surprised her a bit. They’d always been close friends, friends with benefits when it suited them, but the idea of living with him, of trying to build a better life . . . all her excuses had been real. It would be impossible trying to start living their lives on a better path. Axel hadn’t held a real job, ever, as far as she knew. He’d hate being trapped in a nine to five, a routine Jax seemed to enjoy. And Axel had just as much, or just as little, education as she had.

  No, leaving with Jax had been the right thing to do, and maybe, someday soon, she’d go back to Z Avenue and help him. And Elle, too. Repay their kindness.

  Raven rolled onto her side and willed herself to sleep.

  The bandage pulled at her skin, but she was thankful that’s all Damien had done to her. If Jax hadn’t come along . . . well, Damien would have gotten his payback.

  Jax had given her three months to clean up, but that meant emotionally as well as physically, or she would never be able to move forward.

  Being let into her parents’ house for coffee was only half of what she wanted; what she needed was to get her life back on track.

  Her parents would ask why she’d lived her life on the streets for so long. Why she’d let herself go. And she’d need valid reasons so they would listen to what she had to say.

  Her brother’s death happened a long time ago, but that didn’t take away her responsibility, or the role she played.

  Tomorrow she’d begin journaling, perhaps begin her memoir as Jax suggested. Work out her feelings on the page, and perhaps in the process she could help someone.

  This journey couldn’t be about Jax.

  He wanted her to stay, and she was thankful for that.

  But she had to make this more about makeup and clothes. Even her education.

  She had to make this about healing.

  So she could stay off the streets for good.

  “How is the Waterson project coming along?” Jax asked his brother the next morning. Fog from a sleepless night filled Jax’s head. After he’d cleaned Raven’s cut, he’d hurried to his own room where he’d thrown up into the toilet, the lingering scent of her blood in his nose making him heave painfully even after he’d emptied his stomach.

  Two months ago, he would have said she’d gotten what she deserved, putting herself into that kind of situation. But Raven’s pain had sickened him, and what was worse, Damien had intended to hurt her even more.

  Jax refused to think what that sleezebag would have done if he hadn’t found her just in time. For the rest of the morning he’d laid in bed, tossing and turning, wishing he would have killed Damien instead of letting him run away.

  He vowed it would be the last time the scum put his hands on her.

  “You look like shit,” Erik said, leaning against Jax’s desk holding a steaming mug of coffee. “Late night with Lucia?”

  Jax frowned, surprised the news hadn’t traveled. Lucia couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Hell, half the city should have known by now he’d kicked her out on her ass.

  “No. Lucia told me she and Raven fought. You were right. Lucia hit her, scraped her cheek. Lucia’s used to getting her own way, but she underestimated Raven. She fought back, pushed Lucia down the stairs, and the dumb bitch broke her wrist.”

  Erik whistled. “A strong little girl, our Raven.”

  Jax wanted to punch Erik. Raven didn’t belong to both of them. She didn’t belong to either of them. He scowled, but Erik didn’t look contrite. Only smug.

  “At any rate,” Jax continued through gritted teeth, “Raven got scared and ran. That’s why she went missing. Lucia distracted me with dinner plans and sex, and I didn’t look for her until last night.”

  Jax colored. That he could be so easily manipulated rankled. He’d just been so . . . relieved Lucia had started to act like a real person. He should have known from the start it was all a ruse.

  Erik didn’t look impressed, either, but said, “Well, I did say to let her be,” then took a sip of coffee.

  “After Lucia told me what happened, I couldn’t. I kicked her out of the house, and went looking for Raven on Z Avenue. I found her in a bad way and brought her home.”

  That sounded good. Right. He brought her home.

  Erik poured them more coffee from the shining silver carafe. “You swapped women. I have to say, you moved up.”

  “I did no such thing. I gave her three months to clean up and get out.”

  “And then what will you do?”

  Jax leaned back in his chair and sighed. What would he do, indeed. “Start all over again.”

  Sighing in return, Erik placed his mug on Jax’s blotter. “You could find someone to love,” he suggested. “You equate finding a woman to marry the same as girding yourself for battle. It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. But it’s not for lack of trying.”

  “I pray you never experience the things I’ve done.”

  “Accidents were made to be forgiven, Jax. That’s why they’re accidents. Did you ever find out who it was?”

  “No. The department sealed the man’s identity at Dad’s request; you know that. Besides, I didn’t want to know then, and I don’t want to know now. It’s better this way. The department shrink said it would keep me from having a face to fixate on. I tend to agree with her most days.”

  “Yes, I can understand the reasoning behind that, but Jax, it doesn’t erase what happened. It only makes it easier for you to hide from it.”

  “What would I do with the knowledge, anyway?” Jax asked, sweat trickling down his back. Like it always did when he thought about the accident.

  About the life he’d taken.

  “Find closure. Visit his grave. Do something to help yourself move on.”

  “I took a life,” Jax growled. “There is nothing I can do to move on.”

  “It’s been sixteen years,” Erik murmured.

  “When you take someone’s life, you aren’t meant to move on,” Jax said. “Ever. The smell of gunpowder, the slight resistance of the trigger, the blast that fills the air, even the sparkle of the stars that night. All those things permanently loop in my brain.” He swiped a shaking hand over his forehead. “Now, let’s go over the Waterson project. You may need to go out there for follow up. And I need you to help me with FlatIron Distribution. The CEO and board of directors are on my ass every five seconds. Their security breach freaked them out. We’ve plugged the holes but . . .”

  Jax lost himself in work for the rest of the morning and tried to forget what Erik suggested. Find out the identity of the man he’d shot that fateful night?

  He’d rather take his own life than do that.

  It surprised Raven how quickly she fell back into her old routine. Tutoring in the morning, helping Mariah cook, studying in the evening until bedtime.

  She asked Mariah to stop bringing meals to her room. Part of her problem before had been Mariah waiting on her. Raven didn’t feel any better than the hired help, and she wouldn’t let herself be treated otherwise. She began taking her breakfast with Mariah in the kitchen, preparing it herself and cleaning her own plate afterward.

  Mariah reminded her she’d only been helping Raven stay out of Lucia’s way, which had been kind, Raven thought, shifting on a plush loveseat in Jax’s library, but it had only delayed the inevitable.

  Everyone acted a little bit differently now the icy blonde had vacated the house.

  Everyone but Jax.

  He acted just the same as any other day, and Raven was hard-pressed to guess if he cared Lucia was no longer warming his bed or that they were no longer engaged.

  Raven sat hidden in the shadows of the spacious library, the loveseat positioned near a large stone fireplace. Mariah, being a jack of all trades around the gigantic house, lit the fire in the evenings for Jax, on the off chance he would spend time there.

  Their paths se
ldom crossed, and sometimes she wondered if he kept her busy so he wouldn’t have to see her. She didn’t lie to herself—she spent time in the library hoping to catch a glimpse of him now and again.

  Her plan never worked particularly well.

  That evening, after she settled into her favorite place with a book and a huge mug of café mocha Mariah had taught her to make, his appearance gave her a sting of surprise.

  It took her a moment to realize he didn’t know she occupied the room.

  Her heart broke for the man who sank behind the large desk and rested his head in his hands.

  She sat still as stone, not attempting to even breathe; she didn’t want to giveaway her hiding place.

  A muffled sob drifted to her, and Raven set her book aside and almost went to him then, wanting to provide some small comfort.

  He wouldn’t welcome her intrusion. She’d grown to understand him enough to know that.

  She sat, trapped, willing her heart to stop pounding, but it almost leapt out of her body when he said, “Are you enjoying the show?”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you,” she said weakly.

  “You’d rather spy on me,” he accused, meeting her eyes across the room lit with only a small lamp she’d been reading by, and the fire, the orange flames casting shadows on the walls lined with other people’s pain and heartache.

  “That’s not true.” She pushed aside the throw covering her legs, and stood, taking a few steps toward him, her toes sinking into the plush carpet, before crossing her arms over her breasts. The nightgown adequately covered her, but with Jax’s eyes on her, she felt naked, exposed. “I felt sorry for you.”

  Jax laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound, and the sharp shards made her wince.

  He poured a glass of amber liquid and offered it to her, but Raven didn’t want any. Not this time. With Jax’s help, her reality was slowly changing into something better than she could find at the bottom of a bottle.

  “Like I haven’t heard that before. ‘Poor Jax, closing himself off. Poor Jax, always working’. I know what my parents say, what Erik says. What people talk about at the social events I attend. I’m not deaf.”

 

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