Matters of the Hart (The Hart Series Book 3)

by M. E. Carter

  He takes a deep breath and brushes my cheeks with his thumb. But then he nods.

  “Really?” I ask in disbelief.

  “Yeah really. Come on.”

  We climb out of the bath and he takes the time to dry me off with a big fluffy towel. Then he guides me into the bedroom and over to the bed. Taking my hand, he pulls me to him, and still naked, our skin still glistening from the water, he kisses me senseless. His tongue invading my mouth. His hands exploring my body. And I’m all here. Nothing is going through my mind except the way he is making me feel. The way he’s making me want.

  When he lays me on the bed and pushes inside me, I gasp with the feeling of fullness.

  “Open your eyes.” I immediately obey. “I don’t want your mind going anywhere it shouldn’t. This is me. You and me. Always.”

  I nod and hold his gaze as he moves again. Soft gentle pushes to start with, and when I match him thrust for thrust, he begins plunging harder and faster. Until finally he looks me right in the eyes and says, “I love you, Annika.”

  I dig my hands into his hair and pull him to me, kissing him hard. “I love you too,” I whisper against his lips, almost immediately feeling stars explode in my brain. I throw my head back and moan, enjoying the feeling that overtakes me.

  Seconds later, Jaxon tenses and says, “Oh fuck. Oh fuck you feel good. Fuuuuuuuuuck!” He pushes one last time. Our hips practically locked together and right now, it’s like he’s taken everything dirty inside me, and made it clean again.

  He collapses onto me, his head on my chest. We lay quietly as I run my fingers through is hair.

  “I mean it, Annika,” he says after a while. “I love you, so, so much.”

  I hug him tighter and kiss the top of his head. “Good.” Relaxing back into the bed I quip, “Who knew I’d ever fall for a Cowboys fan.”

  He chuckles before his breathing evens out and we fall into a deep, restful sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jaxon

  Going bareback was possibly the stupidest decision I’ve ever made in my short adult life. I knew I was being dumb, even in that moment. But seeing the look on Annika’s face and the desperation that was rolling off her like waves, I understood what she needed. I understood why it was important. So I gave her the only thing I could in that moment. I gave her me.

  I wasn’t totally off my rocker. Was it stupid? Yes. But risky? Not as much as it could have been. That’s one of the other long-term side effects of chemo. There’s almost no chance that I can have kids. It’s possible, but considering all the other issues I have in that area, I figure there’s a good chance I’ll be saving up for a sperm donor someday.

  Not that Annika having my baby would be the worst thing to ever happen to me. Shit, the whole situation got me thinking about how much I wish that would happen someday. Not when I’m in college and twenty-one years old. Hell no. But someday. I’m pretty sure she’s my one. In fact, I’m positive she’s my one. There’s not one else out there like her.

  In that moment, while it was stupid, I also knew the worst thing that could happen is our future being bumped up by a few years.

  And I admit, when she called me a few days later to tell me she started her period, I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t let her know that. She’s been back and forth with her emotions lately so I calmly said, “Okay.” And let it go. No feeling happy that she wasn’t pregnant. No feeling sad that she wasn’t pregnant. Just “okay.”

  But now, as I sit here staring at the envelope in my hands, I’m thinking about my family all over again and wondering how bad I want those fertility treatments someday. My opinion might sway if I’m the last Bryant after all.

  “Why are you staring holes in the mail?” Germaine asks, looking up from his desk where he’s been studying. “You look like it’s done something to offend you.”

  “It may have,” I mumble, not taking my eyes off it.

  “What do you mean by that?” He wheels his fancy office chair he brought from home over and snatches the envelope out of my hand before I can react. Whistling slowly through his teeth, he looks up at me. “DNA results are back. That was fast.”

  I puff out a sigh and run my hands through my hair. “I paid for the rush shipping. I didn’t expect it to rush that fast.”

  Over Thanksgiving, while we were out, Kade and I talked about doing a DNA test, to put all the questions to rest. Not because we doubted his paternity, but because we both knew how it looked. For fourteen, he’s pretty astute in his observations. I guess that happens when no one pays much attention to you. You learn how to people watch. And somehow, he knew showing up on my doorstep would have everyone freaked out.

  Everyone in my life anyway. I still don’t know if his mom has any idea I’m around.

  Germaine hands it back to me and prods, “Well? Are you going to open it?”

  I bite my lip and contemplate his question. “I don’t know that I want to know.”

  “Care to explain why?”

  “What if it says he’s my brother? What if it’s positive? That means my dad had an affair and that baby was left to fend for himself. My brother was left to fend for himself.”

  “You can’t think about it that way, man.” Germaine crosses his arms over his chest and swivels his chair back and forth. “You’ve got to think of it like you’ve got fourteen years to make up for, and you’re off to a good start. Besides, what if it’s negative?”

  “That’s the other thing I’m worried about. What if he’s not my brother?”

  Germaine shrugs. “Then he’s not your brother. Problem solved.”

  But it’s not problem solved. He’s still fourteen. He still has no one. “I don’t know.” I rub the top of my head again. “I don’t know what I want the test to say.”

  “It’s a tough one, that’s for sure. But the first step, man, is actually opening the envelope.”

  I think about it for a second, but I know what I need to do. Pulling out my phone, I dial his number.

  “Hey man? What’s going on?” Kade says excitedly on the other end of the line.

  “Hey, not much. How’s school going?”

  “Good. Good! Remember that girl, Melissa? The one in my computer class?”

  I chuckle, remembering how he thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world, but she won’t give him the time of day. I’m hoping now that he’s discovered the Axe Body Spray line, things are going better for him. “Sure do. You got an update?”

  “She talked to me in class.” He sounds thrilled by this turn of events, and I can’t help but smile for him. “I mean, it was just to ask for my help, but dude. She knew I’d know the answer. That means she knows I’m smart, right?”

  I chuckle again. “Yeah she does. You’re not invisible anymore. Just don’t overdo it with the cologne.”

  “Hell yeah! I don’t know why no one told me about this stuff before.”

  I clear my throat, and while I have the nerve I blurt out, “Our test results came in.”

  He goes silent on the other end for a few moments. “What did it say?” I can tell his excitement has turned into nerves. He sounds kind of like I feel.

  “I haven’t opened it up yet. I thought maybe we should do it on the phone. Together.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, good idea.” He blows out a deep breath, and I can practically hear him stretching his neck as he prepares himself. “Okay. Let’s rip the Band-Aid off. What does it say?”

  Taking my own deep breath, I slide my finger under the lip of the envelope. I can see Germaine watching me as I pull out the letter that’s been folded into thirds and open it. I don’t even skip ahead, just read it aloud.

  “In the interest of Jaxon Bryant Hart and Kayden Austin Maxwell DNA with 99.9% accuracy is NOT a match.”

  Kade gasps and my heart plummets. Not a match. We’re not a match. He’s not my brother. I look up at Germaine who is sitting there open-mouthed, shock on his face.

  All three of us sit in silence as we tr
y to wrap our brains around what I just read. Kade and I are not brothers. With 99.9% accuracy, we are not brothers.

  Am I happy about that? I don’t know. My responsibility to the situation is over, so maybe.

  But once again, I’m the last remaining Bryant.

  I don’t know how to feel.

  “But…” Kade says, clearly as stunned at I am, “but his name is on my birth certificate.”

  I know I’m shaken up by this news, but I only knew about the possibility for a few weeks. I hadn’t really gotten attached the idea of it. But Kade, this kid, not only did he just lose the brother he thought he had for his entire life, he just lost the only man he knew as his father. And it happened in two seconds flat.

  “I don’t know man. I don’t know how this happened.”

  “She…she told me he was my dad.”

  I can hear his emotion rising, and I can’t think what to say except, “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay!” His voice cracks with emotion. “For my entire life, I thought my dad wasn’t around because he was dead. But really, it’s because some asshole out there doesn’t want me.”

  I can practically hear the tears in his voice, and my heart is ripped to shreds.

  “You don’t know that, Kade. He might not know.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he knows.” He sniffs. “If you met my mom, she’s not shy. I’m sure everyone within a hundred-mile radius knew the second she found out she was having me.”

  “Listen, man,” I lower my voice, trying to calm him down, “this doesn’t change anything between you and me.”

  The sobbing on the other end of the line breaks my heart.

  “But it does, Jaxon. It’s okay, you don’t have to have anything to do with me anymore. I won’t bother you again—”

  “No, Kade. Wait! Don’t you hang up that phone.”

  Germaine is still looking at me, waiting to see how I’ll handle this, and I know he can tell it’s gotten emotional on the other end. Hell, with as emotional as Kade is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he can hear it clear across the room.

  “Listen to me. We might not share DNA, but we share a connected history. Regardless of what this test says, my dad and your mom had an affair, and you were born. That means something. I don’t know what other men were involved, but I know what it’s like to lose your dad. I lost mine when I was five. Right now, what you’re feeling, is because you just lost yours.”

  His sobs continue, and now my own eyes are filled with tears. Damn. Can things get any crazier around here?

  “Don’t you dare disappear on me, Kade, okay?” I plead. “I come home all the time, and I’m still gonna see you. We’re still gonna go out. No one has to know this. No one. You and me, we can keep it a secret.”

  “Why?” he asks. “Why would you do that for me? My own father doesn’t want me.”

  “Because you’re worth it, Kade. Because we’re this close to getting that Melissa girl to notice you.”

  Germain chuckles and swivels his chair back around, turning his attention back to his studies.

  “I don’t care what this test says. You’re still my brother.”

  “Yeah,” he says quietly with a sniffle. “Yeah, okay. No one has to know yet. Just let me wrap my brain around this first.”

  “Okay.”

  “Listen, um, I think I need to go, like, drown my sorrows in a game of Halo. I’m gonna let you go, okay?”

  “Yeah.” I wipe the tears out of my eyes. “But you call me when Melissa talks to you again okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks Jaxon.”

  We hang up, and I drop my phone to the floor, digging the heels of my hands in my eyes. Someday, I’ll have to tell my dad about this. Someday.

  But today, I’m going to pretend it didn’t happen. Today, Kade is still my brother.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Annika

  Sitting on the hard wood benches in the courtroom, we wait. Again. That’s all we’ve been doing for the last several months, so I really shouldn’t be surprised.

  Laughter catches my attention and I look over to see a bailiff chatting with some random member of the court like my life hasn’t been on hold for so long. Like Jaxon’s life hasn’t been on hold.

  But I suppose working here, you get immune to how difficult this process actually is. How much it drags. Even now, it feels like we’ve been sitting here for hours, when I know it’s only been fifteen minutes or so. Not that it’ll make a difference.

  The justice system is not all like you see on television. The district attorneys don’t sit around in their expensive clothes, piecing together their plans for court, while coming up with some aha moments that will make the case go off without a hitch. Nor are they in court the next day.

  Oh no. The DA usually looks pretty disheveled, has way too many cases on his or her plate, and things get scheduled. And then rescheduled.

  And then rescheduled again.

  There are depositions. There are inquisitions. There are lots and lots of media. At least in cases like mine.

  We had been warned that things were going to be hard, so the first thing I had to figure out was how to give my dad a heads-up. That was, by far, the hardest part of this process.

  Multiple times, I tried picking up the phone to let him know, but I couldn’t do. I didn’t want to hear the sound of his voice when I spit out the words. And frankly, I wasn’t sure I could get the words out anyway.

  With Jaxon’s help, I sat down the night after our trip to the police station and wrote my dad a letter. I told him all about that night. I told him all about Jaxon’s involvement. And I told him how I was stronger than what had happened to me and was already in the process of healing.

  I fretted for several days after dropping the letter in the mail. When my phone finally rang and his number came up, I knew he finally knew.

  When I answered the phone, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. I heard him crying on the other end of the line, and it was clear his heart had been broken. We didn’t say anything for a long time, the two of us sat there sobbing. We were on opposite ends of the phone line, yet it felt like he was right there with me.

  Finally, when he pulled himself together enough to speak, the first thing he said was, “Damn that Jaxon Hart. I didn’t want to be a Cowboys fan.”

  I laughed out loud when he said that, and I knew we were going to be okay. We talked for a little while. I refused to give him more details, knowing they would all come out in the newspaper anyway, except to say I didn’t remember. That seemed to help him out a lot. I think if I had had a memory, it would have been worse for him. At least this way, I wouldn’t live with memories for the rest of my life.

  Now, he sits next to me, his knee bouncing up and down as we wait for this to finally be over so we can move on.

  Jaxon sits on the other side of me and appears to be much more calm. Much more pulled together. I know it’s an act, though. He’s as nervous as I am. The difference is he spent years in the public eye and knows what to do. His knowledge came in really handy as this process unfolded.

  By the time the news media caught wind that a rapist had been caught, Jaxon, his family, and their entire team of managers and PR reps were fully aware of the situation. They knew Jaxon’s involvement with the case. And they knew Jaxon’s involvement with me.

  I was warned that it was inevitable my name would come out. At least locally. It doesn’t matter if the press was ordered to keep the victim’s names quiet, when one of the victims is dating the guy who stopped the crime in action, and that guy happens to be the son of one of the most beloved retired players in the history of the NFL, it was bound to happen.

  Rumors circulated all over the internet, and my name was one of those rumors. It was never in any official journalism capacity. But it was in blogs. In chat rooms. On social media. People put it together, and it was humiliating.

  Part of the evidence that was released publicly was every sick detail about what had happened. No
w people knew that information. It made me nauseous all the time.

  But then a funny thing happened. People started to come out of the woodwork to thank me. At first, I didn’t know what was going on, but then I realized women were feeling empowered. They were feeling a sense of connection.

  Men, guys I knew who had never given me the time of day, were suddenly feeling enraged that women could be treated that way.

  Women I didn’t know would come up with tears in their eyes and share their story, thanking me for having the strength they didn’t have.

  I didn’t like the attention, per se, but Jaxon and my therapist encouraged me to embrace it. To recognize that this horrific thing I had gone through could make a positive difference in the world. If I’d had my way, I would have made a positive impact another way. But since I didn’t have my way, I started looking at the positives.

  I still don’t have to remember what happened that night. I never regained my memory, and I hope I never do. But that doesn’t mean I can’t allow my story to be used to encourage others to come forward. Jaxon has suggested we work together to lobby for rape kits to be paid for by the state, versus being charged to the victim. But that’s more responsibility I don’t want to bear at this point. I’m not ready.

  We got through the spring semester waiting for the trial to be set. The DA wanted to push it forward quickly, but the defense attorney always had a reason to wait. Finally, the judge had enough and scheduled it for trial.

  In mid-July, in the middle of the heat, in the middle of the summer semester, the trial began.

  Originally, I agreed to testify as a last result. But, thankfully, the facts spoke volumes and all the DNA results said more than I ever could. Then, there was Jaxon’s testimony. As an eye witness, his testimony was vital to prove the attack wasn’t consensual, in case the drugs in my system weren’t enough evidence. While Jaxon didn’t see that Ron guy’s face (and to this day that’s what I call him), he saw the attack. He saw me unconscious, and he saw him on top of me. And according to the media, it was Jaxon’s testimony that made the difference.