by Morgan Fox
Pride won’t let me take her money anyway. I’ve come so far on my own already.
“Look, as much as I appreciate the gesture, I’m moving in with my parents. They told me I could have my old room, if I wanted it.”
Sam scowled. “Are you sure?”
Moving back in with her parents was never on her agenda, but then again, neither was falling in love with Jaxson. She nodded. “It’s for the best.”
“What about Iron Horse, do you need—”
“I’ll commute,” she replied, cutting Sam off. The last thing she wanted was to find a new job. Iron Horse was a perfect fit and the tips were a bonus. Being there made her happy. “I might spend more money in gas and it’ll take me a little longer than I’d hope to save the money I need for a new apartment, but I’ll manage.”
“I wish there was something more I could do for you.”
Layton appreciated Sam, but there was nothing left to do except move on. She would, as soon as her heart forgot how to feel and her mind no longer replayed all the magnificent nights she and Jaxson had spent together, or recalled the way he kissed her like they’d been lovers for a lifetime.
Ah, God, why does it have to hurt so much?
* * * *
Jaxson knew that Sam and Jason had arranged for Layton to work opposite shifts from him. He hadn’t seen her in a week, but he’d taken a peek at the schedules and knew that she was spending more time at the Iron Horse bar and not the restaurant where he was. He couldn’t help but keep tabs on her. Each day when he walked into work, he sought her out, but she was never there. It didn’t stop him from stealing glances toward the bar or remembering how many times they’d stolen away into the storeroom for a kiss.
I miss her.
Jason had asked him if he knew what he wanted to do and he still didn’t. He might never. That didn’t stop him from fantasying about different options. On more than one occasion he whisked into Iron Horse and told Jason to shove it, just as he swept her up in his arms like some knight in shining armor. Another time, he waited out in the parking lot, professed his love for her and begged her to take him back. No matter the scenario, they always ended the same—with reality slapping him in the face.
She never hesitated to leave me. Made it look so damn easy.
He was a jumbled ball of shit. Rattled by his emotions. One minute he was missing her like his lungs would miss air, and the other, angry that she moved on without him. She hadn’t even given him a chance to tell her how he felt about her. That he wanted more than the arrangement they set out with.
His cell phone rang. It was his mother. He dismissed it, setting a mental note to call her back after his shift, but then a text came through.
Call me. Your father’s in the hospital.
Jaxson’s throat constricted, his world darkening. He went into Sam’s office and called his mother.
“Jaxson,” she breathed, her voice shaking. “Your father took a bad fall. He hit his head. He’s unconscious. The doctors are doing what they can.”
Instincts were driving him. His mind was already forming a plan to get him home to his parents. “I’ll be there soon, Mom. Keep me posted on how he’s doing, okay?”
“Okay,” she said on a whimper.
He hung up his phone and darted through the restaurant to find Sam. He explained what had happened. She ushered him off, telling him she’d take care of things until he got back. He thanked her, and didn’t look back, heading directly to his place to pack.
Just as he headed down to his pickup truck, Layton rode up on her motorcycle. She tugged off her helmet and slipped off her bike. He didn’t have time for this, he had to get home.
“Now is not a good time,” he said directly, tossing his bag into the back of the truck.
“I know,” she said. “Sam told me.”
He rounded to face her. “Why?”
“I care about you, Jaxson.”
He chuckled. “You sure have an interesting way of showing that. Look, I don’t have time to reminisce, so let’s not.” He yanked open his door and climbed inside.
He heard a thud at the back bed and then watched as she hopped in beside him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Going with you,” she said matter-of-factly.
“No you’re not.”
She folded her hands over her chest and held his stare. “Not long ago you helped me when I needed it. I’m here, returning the favor.”
“You don’t have to. I’m good.”
“You’ll get there faster if two of us are driving.”
“I don’t sleep much.”
“Good. Neither do I. We’ll make record time.” She sighed. “I’m not getting out of your truck, Jaxson. So unless you plan on calling the cops to have my ass physically removed, I suggest you start driving.”
He didn’t have time for this. His thoughts should be on his father. He put the truck in drive and headed for the nearest gas station. Without saying a word, Layton slid out of the truck and carted inside the store while he pumped gas. Having no willpower, he stared after her, resting his arm on the back of the truck bed. His eyes were fixed on her, bustling around the store and back up to the counter. The gas pump chugged, filling the tank as questions filled his mind.
Why is she here?
The gas pump stopped, he finished up, and hopped up into his truck. Seconds later, Layton crawled into the cab, tossing a grocery bag onto the seat between them. Then she handed him a drink. She’d gotten him an ice tea. His favorite.
“Thanks,” he rasped, placing the cold beverage into the cup holder.
As his eyes scanned the road ahead he glimpsed the time. Every single passing minute. The time that past felt like an eternity, but in reality it had only been about ten minutes.
“How far away is home?”
“10 hours,” he grumbled.
“That’s a long time not to talk to someone.”
“What would you like to talk about? You using me? You dumping me? You—”
“I didn’t dump you, Jax,” she argued. “Is that what you think I did?”
Wasn’t she standing in the same room he was when she picked up her stuff and left? No honest good-bye. No nothing. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it matters.”
“Layton, I really don’t want to spend the next 10 hours in this truck talking to you about this. You moved out. You moved on. What’s done is done.”
I still don’t understand what I did wrong. How poetic that I’m reminded of what a screw-up I am as I’m on my way to see my old man. He clenched his jaw tight. Silence engulfed the cab of the truck.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t want things to end like this.”
I didn’t want them to end at all.
“Like I said, it doesn’t matter.” But it did. Regardless of what he said, he couldn’t stop lying to himself. He wouldn’t look weak in front of Layton, profess emotions she didn’t share. Trapped in a truck with her was not how he wanted to face her rejection.
He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you try to rest up? I might need a break in a few hours.”
That was his clue to end the conversation. He didn’t want to have it, and he certainly didn’t want to hear it. Nothing was going to change how she felt about him. If his natural charm and skilled love making hadn’t given him an edge with her, nothing would.
“Sure. Whatever you need,” she replied, resting her elbow on the door to prop her hand up under her chin.
She stared out the window for an hour before settling in beside him, getting more comfortable. Any chance of conversation went out the window the second he turned on the radio. He enjoyed all kinds of music, but for some reason his heart called for country music.
He quickly scrolled through his phone and selected the George Strait playlist. The music started and he sighed. He didn’t care if she hated every song he played. He didn’t ask her to join him on this trip, and since she was technically a hitchhiker, she had no rights to th
e radio.
Even when I’m not driving.
A few hours into the drive and all was going well. All the way up until the moment she opened her window and the scent of her hair drifted into his nose, reminding him of things he was desperate to forget.
Why did she have to smell so damn good?
Why do I still care?
Chapter Nine
Sitting in the silence of Jaxson’s truck with him was going to end Layton’s life. She was wound tight and ready to explode. A confession weighted heavy on her lips, eager to spill out to fill the void that was growing between them. Unease rattled her, and turned her into a coward. He hadn’t wished to open up to her at all. Small talk was even out of the question. How was he going to respond to her heartfelt emotions and the truth of why she left the way she did?
I did it for him.
When Sam had called her and told her what had happened to Jaxson’s father, she didn’t hesitate to request time off to go to him. She got on her bike and raced like the wind, praying she wasn’t too late. She hadn’t thought about anything else, but that he needed someone by his side.
I wanted to be that person.
The next time they stopped to refuel, he leapt from the truck and moved out of earshot to make a call. She assumed it was to his mother to find out if there was any update about his father’s condition.
Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach as she watched his concerned expression grow darker. The news mustn’t have been good. Jaxson tore open the truck door and climbed back inside, sinking down into the seat as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. He fired up the engine, but paused before putting it into gear. Then he gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles going white as he lowered his head.
She reached over and touched his leg, the reaction so natural. When his gaze snapped to hers, she removed her hand, reminding herself that they weren’t together anymore and it was all her doing.
She swallowed the thump in her throat and asked, “Would you like me to drive for a while.” From the askance glare in his eyes, she knew he battled with the answer. “I don’t mind. I’d like to, if you’d let me.”
He gritted his teeth, his jaw flexing. After a moment, he slid from the truck. She met him around back, their shoulders grazed briefly as they passed. Her heart skidded to a halt as soon as the connection was severed.
If I ended things for a good reason, then why does it hurt so badly?
As she began to drive, she felt his unease like it was her own. She recalled how Jax spoke about his father and that somehow Jax felt that he never added up to his father expectations.
I don’t get that.
Something about it didn’t seem right. Not with what she knew of the man he was. He stuck his neck out for her and he didn’t even know her. Not really. And he didn’t ask for anything in return. Who does that? He was a military man, willing to give his life for his country. He had a brotherly love with Jason and Daniel, men she respected. They surely wouldn’t be around someone who wasn’t a good man. No, whatever situation occurred between Jax and his father can’t be right.
I’m going to find out what it is.
The hours were ticking off the clock at a snail’s pace. She’d been driving for a few hours and it felt more like a dozen. She was unable to resist the opportunity to steal away glances at Jax as he leaned back in his seat, a ball cap pulled down low on his forehead, resting on his nose. He had his arms folded across his chest, the muscles in his arms bulging. Her mouth watered and she scanned him with a heated look, taking in every inch of his sexy physique. The only thing that kept her from falling asleep from total boredom was the image of pulling over the truck to climb over onto his lap and kiss those lips she missed so damn much.
It was this image that not only tortured her, but gave her the ability to stay awake long enough to cross into the Tennessee state line without having to wake Jax up from his slumber. But that didn’t stop him from waking as she located a gas station to stop at to refuel and stretch her legs.
“How long have I been out?” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“Since we last fueled,” she said, grabbing her wallet. “Stretch your legs. This should be our last stop.”
He opened the door and met her at the gas pump. She was about to put in her credit card when he clamped his hand over hers to stop her. “I’ll pay,” he said gruffly.
“I don’t mind.”
“I do,” he countered. “You drove for me. I’ll pay for the gas.”
She pulled her hand back and he slid his card in and finished the transaction. She grabbed the handle and placed the nozzle inside the gas tank of the truck. He paused as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t. He turned back toward the gas station and went inside. She hoped that one day he would forgive her for not being honest with him about the way she ended things. Knowing that he didn’t hate her would make sleeping at night a lot easier, as it was, right now, she struggled to get through the day without thinking about him a hundred times. Guilt crippled her nights. Missing him didn’t help matters either. When she looked at a kitchen table, a bed, a shower, a truck, everything reminded her of him. Being this close to him now and not able to share what they once had sucked, but at least he wasn’t telling her to go away.
* * * *
Why was Layton staring at me like that?
Jaxson gripped the white sink, as if to hold on for dear life. His guts were rolling, his chest tight, everything inside him clenched and unclenched like a vice. His mind reeled with thoughts of his father, praying for a chance to see him again. His heart was a tangled mess of shit over Layton and his shattered past.
Love hurts.
He splashed some water on his face and inhaled the deepest breath his lungs could hold, then he slowly released it. He didn’t have long to drive now. His family’s home was close. They would stay the night there and first light, head over to see his father. His mother had told him that his father was stable and visiting hours would be over before he could arrive. His mother had explained that his father was resting and wouldn’t be awake for a while. Waiting until morning to see him felt wrong. He wanted to be there for him, and Jaxson didn’t want to wait until morning, not after driving so far. Not after thinking about all the unsettled things he and his father had to work through.
Damn it, why did my brother have to die?
He stalked out of the gas station and found Layton pacing beside the truck. She was stunning, her hair loosely flowing around her face. Lord, what I wouldn’t give to have had her want me—to really want me. “You ready?” he asked.
“Yep. I didn’t want to hop in until the last minute.”
They got into the truck. “It won’t be much longer. We’ll be at my folks’ place soon.”
She frowned. “Not the hospital?”
He shook his head. “My mother said that my dad’s resting. I’ll go first thing.”
“I’ll go, too,” she said adamantly.
He locked eyes with her and her expression was stone cold, unwavering. “Whatever you want to do.”
She took his hand in hers. “I want to be there for you, Jax. That’s why I’m here. Not to sit at your parents’ house.”
Why did you walk away from me? Why are you here now?
He fired up his truck and drove the rest of the way to his parents’ ranch. The house was dark. No one was home. He parked in the spot he always did, under an enormous southern red oak tree. The headlights lit up the roots that popped up from the dark earth, reminding him of the years of drought the ranch had endured.
He leaned forward, gazing up through the windshield at the tree—one he had climbed a hundred times. It stretched upward into the shadows of darkness. It was larger than he remembered, fuller with low-lying branches that reached out in all directions. As a kid, he’d spent hours hiding in that tree. Its hard bark and height embraced him within its protective strength—the one place he felt safe. Especially when the world around him went cold and dark.
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“This is exactly what I pictured your home looking like.”
His curiosity piqued. “How so?”
“I pictured you living in a place where you could ride dirt bikes, climb trees that reached into the heavens, and where Sunday brunch with Daniel and Jason was a summer tradition.” She met his gaze. “I see your downhome roots and I like them.”
“You pictured well,” he replied, smiling just a little before hopping out of his truck and grabbing their bags out of the back.
“I can carry my own.”
“I know,” he said, stepping around her.
“Always the gentleman,” she muttered, but loud enough that he heard.
When he reached the front door, he faced her. “Would you prefer I wasn’t?”
Her eyes rounded, her mouth agape. “No. I like that you’re the way you are.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, opening the front door and reaching in to flip on the foyer light.
She didn’t enter, just stood eyeing him. “Are we still talking about my bag or something else?”
He ground his teeth, his eyes fixed on her. Of course he was talking about more than the damn bag, but he couldn’t get it out. “Are you going to go in or stay on the porch all night?”
She sighed and then stepped inside. He followed, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry.”
He paused, flipping the lock on the door. “You’ve said that.”
“I mean it.”
He rounded her, heading toward his room and the spare bedroom. “I’m glad.”
She grabbed his arm, twisting him to look at her as he came to an abrupt stop. “I should’ve told you sooner.”
Her bag hit the floor. “What? That you wanted out? That my help was no longer needed? That you’d had your fill of me?”
“It’s not what you think,” she protested. “I was doing this for you.”
He chuckled, the feeling cold and brutal. “Thanks.” He shoved past her, moving into his bedroom and slamming the door at his back. He didn’t need this shit. Didn’t need to be reminded that he wasn’t enough. His father did that plenty.