“They left me. I listened to them die, Jax. I wasn’t able to do anything but watch as my mom died right before my eyes! I’m so mad at them. All of the time. Why did they die and I survived?”
My legs give out, but before I can fall to to the floor, Jax catches me. Instead of carrying me the short distance to my bed like I expect, he sinks to the ground and leans against my bed frame with me in his lap. I rest my head against his shoulder and lay my hand over his beating heart. Jax stops rubbing my arm, laces his fingers through mine. Warmth radiates off his hand. He makes me feel safe.
“How could they leave me? I can’t . . . I miss them every day. There’s days I wake up and I forget about the accident and I’m happy. I’m blissfully happy. Then reality comes back with a vengeance and I lose them all over again. There’s times when I even go as far to call out for my dad. I hate that! I hate not knowing when I’m going to wake up and think that they’re alive. I fucking hate that I live for those mornings, just to be truly happy, only to be crushed all over again.”
Jax wipes his thumb over my cheek and it’s then that I realize I’m bawling. Reaching up, I touch my face. The wetness I feel is foreign. I don’t cry. Ever. I haven’t cried in six years.
“I’m so angry! All of the time! I’m so angry at them! They left me!” I cry into his shirt.
I don’t know how long we stay like this, me sobbing into his shirt while he holds me. He never tries to tell me it will be okay or some other bullshit advice. He kisses the top of my head while drawing patterns on my arms. It feels like I’m going to run out of tears, but just keep pouring down my cheeks. I can’t stop mourning what I lost, what was stolen from me.
I cry for the death of my parents.
I cry for the death of Hadley.
I cry for the death of me.
Feeling like it’s been hours since I started weeping I try to calm down. Which of course just makes me cry harder. Why can’t I stop sobbing? I clutch onto Jax, afraid that he’s going to get up and leave me like this.
“Don’t . . . I—”
“I know, just let it out. I’m not going anywhere,” Jax whispers into my hair.
Just hearing that he isn’t leaving me is enough to help me breathe again. I gave up wiping my face a long time ago since it’s pointless. I snuggle into Jax’s chest and breathe him in, willing the tears to stop. After what feels like another hour, the tears finally dry up. I wipe my face and nose with the end of Jax’s dress shirt.
“Sorry,” I mumble, not feeling sorry at all.
Jax brushes the hair out of my face and kisses my nose. “Don’t be.”
When I’m finally calmed down again, Jax picks me up as if I weigh nothing and strolls to the bathroom with me in his strong arms. He cleans off my face with a warm towel while I sit and watch him take care of me. Once he’s satisfied, he carries me back to my bed. After covering me in my blanket, he turns off the light. My side lamp is on so I can still see clearly, but I’m not blinded by the light anymore. He kicks off his shoes. After stripping out of his shirt and carelessly throwing it on the floor, he unbuttons his pants.
“We’re gonna cuddle like old times and if you want to talk more, I’m going to listen. If you just want me to hold you, then you’ll be in my arms all night.”
I study his face while he strips out of his pants. As much as I want to stare at other places on his body, I can’t. Nothing has changed between us and I need my friend right now.
Jax peels back the duvet and slides in next to me. He lifts his arm in the air, an invitation for me to cuddle. I don’t need to be told twice. I eagerly lay my head on his chest, and wrap my leg over him, while he holds onto me tightly. I melt into him, expecting to sleep but to my surprise, I open up more.
“I told Liv about the crash . . . It was like I was there all over again. Reliving it all. I could see it all as clear as I can see you. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t—”
“Stop. You did everything that you could. You need to stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t your fault. I miss them too, but I’m not sorry that you’re here, Ads. I need you to be here. I can’t imagine losing you.” His voice cracks.
Gazing into his eyes, I know he’s telling the truth. Which makes it impossible for my heart not to break a little more. He loves me. I know he does. Everything he does proves it over and over again, but he’s not willing to do anything about it for whatever reason. Hearing the sincerity in his voice shatters me.
“I don’t know how to live without them,” I admit.
“One day at a time,” he says, repeating what Liv has told me countless times.
“I know, it’s just hard.” Stalling, I nuzzle closer to him. “I felt like I was betraying them somehow. I wouldn’t allow myself to be happy because they weren’t here. Anytime I started to live again, I could hear my dad’s head hit the window. I’d hear my mom’s last words and, mostly I would see Hadley’s lifeless body while the paramedics tried to save her.”
“They wouldn’t—”
“I know. That’s why I started trying. I realized that if things were different and she was here instead of me, I wouldn’t want her weighed down by guilt. I would want her to live to the fullest because I couldn’t. I would want her to live for me. That’s what I’m doing. I’m living for all of them, especially Hadley. She was so young, she didn’t get to experience life. I feel like I tainted their memories somehow because I haven’t been experiencing life for so long.”
I close my eyes and picture my parents and my little sister. Instead of seeing their lifeless bodies, I see them alive and happy. I see my dad hugging my mom while they dance in our kitchen, and I see Hadley twirling around the house in a tutu when she was eight. I’m surprised that the images don’t make me fall apart. Instead they make me smile, a sad smile, but it’s still more than I’ve been able to do in the last six years. Anytime I remember them, I’ve always felt guilty. It’s strange not having that guilt anymore.
“That’s why I won’t go back to the way I was. I can’t. I know if I do, I won’t be able to pull myself out of it again. And I couldn’t do that to them. My mom told me to be strong and I need to start being the strong person she believed I was.”
Jax doesn’t say anything and I’m glad. He kisses the top of my head. Seconds turn into minutes with neither of us speaking, just basking in each other’s warmth. Eventually Jax ends the silence.
“I’m proud of you. You’re the strongest person I have ever known. You had your entire world turned upside down, everything was taken from you, but you didn’t give up. You—”
“I did give up.”
Jax turns my head so that I’m forced to look at him.
“No. You. Did. Not. Give. Up.” He says each word slowly. I manage to give a little nod because I don’t trust my voice.
“I’ve watched you for the past six years. You continued to fight even if you weren’t aware of it.”
I start to interrupt him, but he places a finger over my lips, silencing me.
“Every day you got up and went to school. You graduated top of the class and now you’re pursuing a career we both know you don’t really want. You’ve been through more than anyone should at such a young age, but you never gave up. I don’t want you feeling guilty because you think you haven’t been living. You have, just in your own way. You had to overcome everything going on in your head to fully come back to us . . . to me.”
I desperately want to kiss him, but I can’t. I know he believes every word he just said, and for some unknown reason, I believe it, too. I kept fighting . . . It just took me six years to realize what I was fighting for . . . I was fighting for me, for life.
“I don’t remember our sleepovers being so depressing,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
He forces out a laugh. “Yeah, because sneaking into your room against my best friend’s back was sunshine and daisies.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know,” he
says with a sad smile before reaching over me to turn off my side lamp.
“You know, if you ever want to talk about that, I’m here,” I say into the darkness.
Jax’s body tenses. I immediately regret bringing up his past. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. I mentally curse myself.
“I don’t even know what to say.” Jax breaks though my internal rant.
“Whatever comes to you,” I say, repeating what Liv has told me several times.
I count to thirty. I’m positive that Jax is just going to change the subject or go to bed. This is untouched territory for us. We’ve never really spoken about all those nights long ago. It’s kind of like an unspoken promise to not mention it, even back when I was patching him up. I’m about to open my mouth to relieve the tension in the room when Jax finally speaks.
“Okay.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Okay.
I will myself to stay perfectly still. He’s never once ever talked about what happened in his house. I don’t want to move or talk. Heck, I don’t even want to breathe in fear that Jax will snap out of it and shut down on me. That I’m used to. Jax is always shutting people out, especially me. Please, please open up.
Jax has stopped drawing patterns on my back, and instead squeezes me so tightly that I’m positive that I’ll have bruises by my ribs. I don’t care. If a few bruises is all it takes for Jax to open up to me, I’ll gladly show them off. Jaxon Chandler is about to confide in me.
I’ve counted to one hundred . . . twice. Still nothing. It’s time for me to push him like he has pushed me to do things I reluctant to do.
“Have you ever talked to Wyatt about it? Has he ever said sorry or anything?”
Even though I asked, I already know the answer. There’s no chance in hell that Wyatt has ever apologized. He isn’t sorry. I doubt that pathetic excuse of a man is sorry for anything.
“You already know the answer.”
“Enlighten me anyways.”
Jax doesn’t say anything at first. He squeezes me a little tighter to him, if that’s even possible. I suck in a breath to keep from wincing. It’s just a little pain. I remind myself that the pain is worth it.
Almost like he can read my mind, Jax releases his death grip. He still clings to me, but now I’m able to breathe normally without my ribs feeling like they’re going to burst into my lungs.
“Wyatt isn’t the kind of person to apologize.” Jax rakes his hand through his hair, a gesture I know all too well. “Besides, what would I ask him? Oh hey, Dad, remember when you used to beat the shit out of me? Do you ever regret it? Did you ever feel bad? Did you ever want to kill me, or did you just settle for beating the shit out of me until I begged for death so the pain would stop?”
Tears sting my eyes from hearing the truth in his words. I knew it was awful, I saw it. Heck, I even had to Google how to sew because he refused to go to the doctors for stitches. I just never imagined it was that bad. Which, of course, is stupid. I guess I didn’t want to believe it was that bad. I can’t comprehend how someone could torture their own kid. The only thing I’m sure of is that Wyatt Chandler shouldn’t be able to breathe. He shouldn’t be allowed to practice medicine, when he’s the reason why Jax would sneak into my bedroom at night. Wyatt is the perfect actor, pretending to have been the best role model for his soon. When you’re a renowned cardiovascular surgeon, nobody questions you.
“I hate him!” I finally manage to spit out.
“I wish I could say that . . . There was so many times that I’ve said that, I even believed it, but I realize that I can never hate him.”
“Even after everything he’s done to you?” My voice cracks.
“Even after everything, I can’t hate him.” He pauses to collect himself. “On some level, I understand why he did it.”
“What?” I roar, wishing that the light was on so I can see his face. The tears that I’ve been fighting to hold in silently roll down my face.
Jax not hating his father is one thing. I was okay with that. People have their own feelings. I mean, I hate the man enough for both of us so it’s fine. But to understand why Wyatt used Jax for his personal punching bag is not something I’m okay with . . . I’m not equipped to handle this.
Yeah, cause somebody deserves to get a glass vase thrown at him because there was water on the bathroom floor after his shower. Several pieces were embedded into his back since he was only wearing a towel when Wyatt came storming into his room that morning. Jax went the whole day with pieces of glass in his back because he couldn’t reach them himself.
One of the millions of memories that haunt me about Jax’s past comes rushing forward.
“Have you seen Jax?” Logan immediately asks me before I can shut the front door.
I drop my swim bag onto the floor, dread sinking in. Instantly I paste a fake smile on my face to hide my fear. “No. Wasn’t he at practice with you and Connor?”
“No, he didn’t show up for practice. Chris said that he left early, sometime during fifth period. Just got up and walked out of class.”
My earlier dread is nothing compared to what I’m feeling now. I saw him this morning when he came over to take us to school, but that was it. He didn’t even look up at me when I said good morning. I knew something was wrong then. I just didn’t know how to ask him if he was okay with everyone in the kitchen. So instead of talking to him, I watched while he ate my last yogurt. He barely joked about it too. I should have cornered him then and sought out answers.
My heart pounds loudly, my hands tremble, I need to tell my parents about Jax’s secret. If I do, I know Jax will find some way to deny everything. He won’t risk being taken away from his dad, from me. I’ve tried over and over again to make him see reason. I know our parents will take him in, but he won’t let me confide in them. Every day I live with the fear of his Dad going too far.
Cursing myself for not pushing the subject this morning, I fidget with the straps of my practice suit. I can’t stay still. I’m itching to fumble into my bag for my phone and text Jax, but I don’t want to in front of my brother.
“How did you get home?” I ask instead, pretending that I’m not scared shitless.
Jax didn’t sneak into my room last night. Every night I make sure the house alarm is off and that my window is unlocked, just in case he needs to sleep over here. When he’s here, I can take care of him and know that he’s okay. When he’s not, I always think the worst. I always imagine him bloody, broken on the floor, unable to move. I usually don’t get any sleep, and if I do, I have nightmares.
“Connor.” Logan focuses on his phone again.
“Hmm, well I haven’t seen him since this morning when he stole my last yogurt.” I try to act like I’m not worried so that I can get to my room as quickly as possible. “I didn’t see him at school at all, but I hardly do unless I eat lunch with you guys. I just thought you guys went off campus for lunch. Have you called him?”
“Huh?”
“See that shiny thing in your hand? It’s called a phone. Use it. Call Jax,” I snap at him.
Logan doesn’t know things about his best friend that I do, but still, he should realize something is wrong if Jax wasn’t at practice. Jax never misses practice.
“I did. No worries though, Addie, he’ll text me when he’s feeling better.”
“Feeling better?” I squeak out.
Logan rubs my wet hair. “Don’t worry, you won’t get sick before your meet this weekend.”
Forcing myself to laugh, I just nod. Jax getting me sick was the last thing on my mind.
“Okay, well, tell him I hope he feels better.” I move towards the stairs. “I’m gonna jump in the shower. I didn’t have time after practice since Mom had to go pick up Hads from ballet.”
He nods. “Connor is gonna bring over something to eat since the parentals have that charity thing. Want to watch a movie with us?” he asks while he texts away on his phone.
“No. I’m just gonna eat in m
y room then go to bed. I’m pretty sure Coach is trying to kill us with all the in-n-outs we had to do today.” I don’t even wait for a response before dashing up the stairs to my room.
I’m tearing into my bag as I reach the top of the stairs. As I near my door I’m already calling Jax. It goes straight to voicemail.
“Call me when you get this . . . I’m worried,” I say as I open my door.
I lock my door before turning on the light. I scream when I see a pale Jax sitting on my bed, head in his hands. He lifts his head and gives me a weak smile.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Ja—”
I hear Logan running up the stairs.
“What’s wrong Addie?” Logan asks on the other side of my locked door.
Jax winces as he tries to get up. I hold up my hand to tell him to stay put. He doesn’t move again, but he doesn’t take his eyes off my door, either.
“Sorry, I thought I saw a spider,” I call with a false laugh.
“Thought you saw a spider?” Logan asks.
“Yeah, but it was just lint. I’m gonna jump in the shower then I’ll be down to grab some food.”
“You’re lucky the guys weren’t here. I don’t think Connor and Jax would ever let you live that down. I thought somebody was in there trying to kill you.”
I force myself to chuckle again. Logan’s steps drift away and when I can’t hear him anymore, I sigh.
“That was close,” Jax says.
Putting my hands over my face, I force myself to take deep calming breaths. “We need to tell someone,” I manage to say when I finally lower my hands.
“I have five more months left and I’m free.”
“Jax, I can’t keep lying. You could die!” I plead with him.
He attempts to stand but he’s too weak. “If you do, I’ll lose everything.” I know he’s talking about college. A new life for himself, out of his father’s shadow. “I can’t risk going into the system. The beatings aren’t as bad anymore.”
I hate that I agree with him. On some messed-up level, Wyatt has lightened up since Jax has gotten older. He’s not the easily beaten child anymore. Wyatt saves his punishments for when he can unexpectedly lash out at him. Usually with some sort of weapon to make the beating that much more severe. Jax used to suffer from the lick of Wyatt’s belt, now it’s from anything that Wyatt can find.
Beautifully Shattered (The Beautifully Series Book 1) Page 40