Rescuing Broken: The Kane Brothers

by Gina Azzi

  Every now and then, I see her talking with a guy I know or don't know, and I feel my stomach clench but it's misguided. She never flirts with anyone, always keeps it strictly professional. She uses a polite detachedness. Besides, she's not mine to claim. Not anymore. So I smile through the frustration I feel and wish her a good morning.

  This week I started bringing her coffee. I still remember her order: skinny vanilla latte. Surprise flickered across her face the first morning, but she accepted it gratefully enough, which was just the encouragement I needed to keep it up. Today, I even threw in a chocolate chip cookie, and the look she bestowed on me made my heartbeat quicken like I was still a high school kid.

  She's good at her job. Everyone seems to like her. But she's different. She keeps more to herself now, even more so than in high school. She's closed off, a wall erected between her and everyone else. The Evie I used to know was quiet but friendly. This Evie is never friendly, only polite. I watch her from time to time as I work through the sheet Peters worked up for me. She only attends my sessions when I'm working directly with him. The rest of the time, she answers the phone, responds to emails, and files papers. She does the same type of work she did for her mother in high school. She's so damn overqualified it isn't funny.

  What is she still doing here?

  Why didn't she leave?

  The questions plague me daily but with the exception of my brothers, no one seems to know why Evie passed on West Point. The fact that my own brothers know and won't tell me is its own type of torture. On one hand, I'm proud that they're loyal to Evie. It's like she's still a part of my family and Carter and Denver have her back. On the other hand, I want to deck them because I'm their blood, and I feel like they should owe me at least some of their loyalty.

  "Working hard," I comment, leaning over her desk after my workout.

  "Some of us have to," she quips back, her old sass returning for a brief moment.

  I chuckle, remembering all the times she used to give me shit for being a slacker. You're not going to be able to rely on your good looks to get through life, Jax. One day, you'll be old.

  "What're you doing this weekend? It's Friday night, you know."

  "I know. Why are you asking?"

  "Can't I just make general conversation?"

  "No. You always have ulterior motives."

  "So distrustful, Maywood."

  "Still so arrogant, Kane. What are you doing this weekend?" Her eyes twinkle at me, and I wish I could freeze the moment because she looks so much like herself again.

  "Trying to ask me out, Evie?"

  She snorts, cute and playful.

  "Because if you are, I'd say yes."

  She rolls her eyes.

  "So ask me."

  "I'm not asking you out."

  "You girls like the guys to do all the tough parts."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "We have to deal with all the nerves and self-doubt, work up the courage to approach a beautiful girl, and then convince her to go out with us."

  "I don't think you've ever suffered from nerves, self-doubt, or a lack of courage."

  "Correct. So, since you already shot me down for dinner, how about a movie?"

  "A movie?"

  "You know, those things you watch on a big screen while you eat popcorn and try not to blush too hard when I hold your hand."

  She laughs for real now, a musical sound like wind chimes in the breeze. "That's all you'll try? Just hand holding."

  I hold up the middle three fingers of my right hand. "Boy Scout Oath."

  "You were never in the Boy Scouts."

  "But I wanted to be."

  "I'll go to a movie with you."

  I can't stop the grin that splits my face. "I knew I'd wear you down."

  "It's embarrassing that that's your strategy."

  "Not if it works. I'll pick you up tonight at seven."

  "What are we seeing?"

  "Whatever’s playing at seven-thirty."

  She snickers, and I congratulate myself on finally getting her to agree to a date with me.

  "I'll meet you there."

  "Evie, come on, let me pick you up and—"

  "Pretend you're a Boy Scout."

  "Fine," I grumble. "But I'm buying the tickets and the popcorn, and if you're lucky and I feel like there's a spark between us, the ice cream sundae afterwards."

  She stares at me, a tenderness softening her eyes as she chews her lower lip. "Okay."

  "Okay. I'll see you later then."

  "See you later."

  I walk out of Morris into the bright morning of what promises to be a beautiful day.

  12

  Evie

  The knock on the door makes me drop my purse on the floor, items scattering everywhere. Naturally. I leave the bag where it is and glance at myself in the mirror over the console in the hallway. Thank God Graham isn't here to witness me freaking out. It's like junior prom all over again, except I'm an adult this time. Lame, lame, lame.

  I fumble the lock on the door, pulling it open, about to tell the solicitor on the other side that now isn't a good time. Instead of a stranger, the hot body, sheepish grin, and deep green eyes of Jax slam into me.

  "Jax."

  He stares at me for several seconds, his eyebrows pulling inward as his bottom lip catches between his teeth. "You look beautiful."

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you at the theater?"

  He rocks back on his heels, his hands tucked into the front pockets of dark jeans with strategically placed tears. Ducking his head, he says, "I'd make a shitty Boy Scout."

  "No kidding."

  "I really wanted to pick you up."

  "Oh." I glance over my shoulder at my purse splayed on the floor, a tube of lip gloss peeking out from underneath the ottoman. My heartbeat ticks up at his proximity, but secretly I'm pleased. Even though I don't want him to get too comfortable in my space, I want him to want to. Does that even make sense? "Okay, well give me a second." I hold the door open wider. "Do you want to come in?"

  "Yes."

  I turn back inside, feeling him step into my home behind me. Squatting down, I gather up as many items as I can, tampons included, and toss them back into my purse before he can offer any assistance.

  Breathe, Evie. It's just Jax. It's fine.

  Inhale. Exhale. Jeez, I didn't expect to see him on the other side of the door looking charming and devilish and stupidly perfect.

  "I like your place."

  Plopping my purse onto the console, I turn to see Jax taking in my living room, bending slightly at the knees to peer at a framed photo of Jenny, Miranda, and I taken at Raf's last summer.

  "I don't remember you being so close with Jenny and Miranda."

  "Most of my friends from high school took off after graduation."

  He turns to look at me, his mouth opening as if he's about to speak.

  "But the three of us have gotten close over the last few years," I blurt out before he has the chance to ask me why I wasn't one of the people taking off after tossing my cap in the air.

  He picks up the framed photo, his face thoughtful.

  Shouldering the cumbersome purse, I’m grateful for its awkward weight since it gives me something to do with my hands. "Ready to go?"

  "Absolutely." Jax places the frame back in place and walks back to my front door. Pulling it open, he gestures for me to exit first.

  I wait for him to close the door so I can lock up, listening intently for the three clicks before dropping my keys inside my purse.

  He watches me closely, an expression I can't read flickering over his face. "Do you have a sweater or something?" He glances down at my bare shoulders. "Sometimes it's cold inside the theater."

  "I grabbed a shawl." I pat the outside of my purse. "I'm a modern day Mary-freaking-Poppins," I titter, nervous.

  "You always were prepared for the worst," Jax agrees, gently pressing his fingertip
s into the small of my back as we walk down the three steps to the parking lot and Denver's waiting SUV. The heat of his fingers seeps into my skin, simultaneously warming and warning me.

  A thrill shoots through me at his touch. Nervous anticipation builds in my bloodstream, mixing anxiety and excitement together. Part of me is giddy to be going out on a date with Jax and the other part questions if all of this is too much, too soon. Am I ready to go on a date with anyone? The disastrous ending of my last date flickers through my mind and I shut it down as I reach Denver’s SUV.

  He opens the passenger door like a gentleman, and I slide onto the seat, clicking in my seat belt and watching him as he walks around the front of the car and tucks his long body behind the steering wheel.

  His hair is starting to grow in, making him look more like his senior yearbook photo. He's wearing a pale grey button-down, rolled up to just below his elbows. His skin is tanned, the corded muscles of his forearms on display.

  As I sit and stare at his hands and the way they tap out a beat, his long fingers curling loosely around the steering wheel, I realize that we're still sitting in the parking space in front of my townhouse, and Jax hasn't started the engine.

  I glance at his face and find him watching me, a small smile playing across his mouth. "Breathe, Evie, it's just me."

  "I know."

  "If this gets awkward or weird, or if at any time you want me to take you home, just tell me. No questions asked, yeah?"

  "Okay," I agree, relief overshadowing my anxiety.

  The drive to the theater is quiet, which isn't saying much since it's only about three blocks. Jax parks in the lot and jogs around to my side, pulling the door open for me before I even unclick my seatbelt.

  "Uh, thanks." I place my hand tentatively in his as I hop down from the passenger seat. "What's playing?"

  Peering up at the old-fashioned movie sign that lists all the movies playing today, an unattractive snort shoots out of my nose. "Shrek? Are you kidding me?"

  Jax exhales loudly behind me, grinning at the movie sign, my outburst, or both. "They're playing it again, on the big screen for a limited time." His voice changes to that of an announcer on a movie trailer and I laugh.

  "Why?"

  "Because the musical is coming to Savannah next week. There's a bunch of hype about it."

  "That's so funny."

  "I know. Remember when we watched it together?" he asks, almost shyly.

  I nod, not daring to look at him. We watched Shrek in my room one of the first times we ever hung out. He came over to work on our British Literature project and after we finished, we ordered pizza, and he hung around so we could watch a movie. Mom was deployed then and my aunt, who was staying with me, was on a business trip. Alone in the house, I did something so out of character for me: I invited over a boy. Scandal!

  Not that he stayed the night or anything crazy. But it was the first time he ever kissed me. It was the first night I admitted to myself that the butterflies in my stomach were because of him and not some random stomach bug I was coming down with.

  Staring up at him, I realize I'm pressing my fingertips to my lips, remembering that kiss, remembering him. I drop my hand. "I remember."

  His face softens. "You want to watch it with me again?"

  I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to contain the smile wanting to burst forth as uneasiness settles in my chest. "As long as you promise not to kiss me this time."

  Confusion dims the brightness in Jax's eyes but he nods once.

  Stupid, stupid, Evie. I bite my lip, furious with myself for ruining the moment. Annoyed that I let other things taint a special memory between us.

  He holds up the three middle fingers of his right hand again. "Scouts’ Honor. I'll be a perfect gentleman."

  "I'm sure." I roll my eyes, trying to play off my awkwardness when all I feel is a bubble of insecurity. Why does he even want to be here with me? He could be with any woman, literally any female over the age of eighteen in our town, and yet, here he is, taking me to see Shrek. "You can still buy me popcorn."

  A low rumble works its way out of his chest as he chuckles at me. "You're a real giver. Come on." He holds out his hand, and slowly I place my hand in his, our fingers lacing together, as we cross the street to the movies.

  The final credits roll as the lights brighten in the theater. I pick up my Coke and take one more sip before gathering the discarded bags of popcorn Jax and I plopped on the floor next to our seats.

  "I always loved Shrek." I stand up, looking around to make sure I didn't leave anything behind.

  "Yeah. It's a good movie." Jax takes the popcorn bags and soda cup from my hand. "I got this."

  "Thanks."

  He leads the way out of our row and down the stairs to the exit. I take in his broad shoulders, his tapered waist, and the way his jeans hang low on his hips. He looks too good to be true. Gorgeous and considerate and humorous all rolled into one. He didn't try anything for the entire movie. Not even hand holding. A big fat nothing.

  Hyperaware of every move he made as we sat next to each other in the dark, our breaths mingling over the scent of buttery popcorn and the crunch of M&M's, I waited for him to reach out and lace our fingers together or stretch his arm around my shoulders. Not counting when we both went to reach for some candy at the same time and our fingers brushed, he didn't touch me for the whole movie.

  Who is this boy scout, and what has he done with the Jaxon Kane I once knew? I have no idea. But as nervous as I was throughout the first quarter of the movie, I eventually relaxed as every time I glanced over at Jax, he was focused on the relationship unfolding between Shrek and Princess Fiona.

  By the time the movie neared the conclusion, I was almost, almost, wishing he would reach over and place his hand on mine. Now, that was a huge shock to my system. When was the last time I even wanted a man's attention? Wanted to feel the weight of his hand or the pressure of his fingers against my skin? The last time I was with Jax, seven years ago, that's when.

  Gah! What is wrong with me?

  Following him toward the exit now, a calmness settles over me. I enjoyed seeing the movie with Jax, liked knowing he was next to me. I didn’t freak out once during the film, my thoughts focused on the movie. When I did think of Jax, I didn’t veer off into nerve-wracking what if’s and mounting doubts. Congratulating myself on getting through this part of the date, I actually hope our night isn’t finished yet. I hope he asks me to have an ice cream cone.

  He tosses our half-eaten snacks into a garbage can before pushing open the doors into the balmy night air. He pauses, waiting for me to step up beside him and when I do, he looks down at me tenderly, reaching out his hand to lace his fingers with mine once more.

  Thank God. I practically sigh in relief.

  "So, you up for a sundae?"

  I bite my lip to contain my excitement. Staring up at him, I blend the man before me with the boy from so long ago. And even though so much between us has changed, so much has stayed constant and feels familiar. Seems like normal.

  "I'd love one."

  "Mint chocolate chip?"

  A ripple of satisfaction runs through my chest; he remembers my favorite ice cream flavor. It seems like he remembers a lot. Much more than I ever gave him credit for. "Mm-hmm."

  "With rainbow sprinkles, extra chocolate syrup, and three cherries?"

  “That sounds perfect.”

  He squeezes my hand, tugging me along as we walk three stores down to Sally's Sweet Shoppe for incredible ice cream and another trip down memory lane.

  13

  Jax

  She winces in the seat across from me, and I lean forward, reaching out a hand to place on her forearm. I'm relieved when she doesn't jump as she's done in the past. The first time she did that, I felt like I got stabbed in the chest. Repeatedly. "Brain freeze?"

  She nods, dropping her spoon in the bowl between us.

  "You always did love ice cream."

  "Guilty pleasure."r />
  "I could think of other guilty pleasures you used to enjoy more." It's out of my mouth before I can check it, and I watch as her cheeks redden and her mouth drops open. Shit. After a beat, she picks her spoon back up, ignoring my comment completely, which is much better than being offended by it.

  Stupid.

  I know I have to tread lightly with Evie. Be careful with her. I don't know what happened or when, but I know it was drastic. It's the little things now. The way she looks around, always alert at her surroundings. I've seen her zero in on emergency exits several times. She turns inward when a man she doesn't know, or doesn't know well, approaches. Each time I notice one of her defense mechanisms, warning bells clang in my head and an anguish I can’t explain fills my chest. She’s obviously scared and I want to help her get past it. I want to know what happened to my Maywood but I’m afraid that if I push too hard, she’ll retreat into herself and cut me out of her life again.

  Seeing her before me, tucking into her ice cream like it's been years since she enjoyed one, almost brings me more pleasure than threading my fingers with hers. Almost. Because in these tiny flashes, it's almost like it's her again. And seeing carefree Evie is like Christmas morning as a kid. Before Mom passed. Before Dad fucked up and was incarcerated. When things were still merry and bright and the spirit of Christmas seemed like magic.

  I used to think of Evie as being somewhat magical. The way she believed in me, saw me as more than just a football player with an ego. Knowing her helped me—saved me. Before Evie, I never thought I’d leave our little town. I figured I’d sort things out eventually but the reality is, I probably would have sought out the same type of belonging most kids who don’t leave get tangled up in: motorcycle clubs, dealing, dead-end jobs.