A Helluva Man

by Sable Hunter

  Fuck, it felt good to be with Tamara again, even if there was a wide expanse between them. Jaxson could feel his senses coming alive just from being near her. He took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent of her soap and shampoo. Jaxson felt his pants tighten as his cock flexed, showing the first sign of life since the accident. “It’s been a project for me.”

  “The fence looks great.”

  Jaxson snorted. “You must have a taste for roughness. At least it’s not missing any pickets.”

  The implication was there, only a fool could’ve missed it. “I think its perfect and would be, even if it was missing a picket.”

  Clang! Bump! Thud!

  Jaxson let his crutches fall to the floor with a clatter just to make a point.

  This was his reality now. These crutches were his constant companion, the friends he couldn’t get along without. Sure, modern science was doing great things with prosthetics these days, but every time Jaxson allowed himself to think about walking around like a normal person again, he was reminded of the abnormality he’d never be able to change.

  “What have you been doing up here?” Tamara asked to get the conversation going again.

  “Sitting around mostly. Heath took all the guns home. I’m sure you heard.”

  Tamara refused to laugh about so serious a topic. Pepper had made her aware of Jaxson’s mental state. “Don’t even joke about that.”

  “What? It’s not like they’d do me any good. I mean, I can’t go hunting with a stump for a leg, can I? And despite what I thought when you arrived, it’s not like the deer are going to wander up on the front porch for me to shoot.” His voice was getting louder and began to shake as he spoke. “I can’t do anything I used to do, Tamara. I wish I’d died on that operating table!”

  Tamara looked down at her hands. “Jaxson. Stop.”

  “Stop what? It’s true. I see the way everyone looks at me, like I’m some sort of an invalid.”

  Tamara was up and out of her seat. “That’s not true. Nobody looks at you that way, least of all your family.”

  “Oh, bullshit. They see me as less of a man now and so do you.”

  “I do not.”

  “How could you not?” Jaxson leaned forward and grasped the cuff of his jeans, pulling the right leg up until the fabric was tight against the stump of his leg. “Look at me, Tamara. It’s gone.”

  Tamara looked down at the spot he was showing her, then looked away, unable to handle the emotion of the moment.

  When she averted her eyes, she validated Jaxson’s every fear. She was disgusted by his handicap. “See? You can’t look at me either.”

  “It’s not that Jaxson.”

  “Of course, it is.” A lump the size of Texas formed in Jaxson’s throat. He had to end this, he had to say something to make her leave. “Doesn’t matter, it would’ve never worked. Our relationship was winding down anyway.”

  Tamara looked him right in the eye. “What?”

  “Yea, we were just fooling around. I’m a McCoy. If I ever marry anyone, it’ll be Chelsea.” He swallowed the bitter lie. “Our families run in the same circles.”

  Tears had begun to fill Tamara’s eyes and again she looked away. “Social circle, you mean?”

  “And what are you? A personal trainer?”

  Jaxson didn’t think, he was just spouting off nonsense. If anyone was too good, it was Tamara. But he knew this girl, she had a heart as big as all outdoors, she’d stay with him for all the wrong reasons and he couldn’t allow her to waste her life with a cripple.

  “Jaxson, stop…” Tamara pleaded in a small voice. His words were so hurtful, she couldn’t stem the flow of tears anymore. “I work hard.”

  Yea, she was a damn sports phenom. A star athlete. A fuckin’ Olympic gold medalist. More reasons she shouldn’t be stuck with a gimp like him. “Just go, Tamara. Go back where you came from.”

  “I love you, Jaxson. You don’t mean the things you’re saying, I know you don’t.”

  “Like hell I don’t.” He had to be strong. He had to get rid of her before he fell down at her feet and begged her to stay. Jaxson blinked the tears from his eyes before she saw them. “I told you before. I can’t do this with you. It was just a good time. I wanted to see how it was to fuck a triathlete. I’ve heard you girls are pretty flexible. But, I…I don’t want you. You’re too skinny, too flat-chested. I need a woman with a woman’s body, not a stick figure.”

  Jaxson had already thrust the knife into her heart, now he was turning it.

  “No, I know you weren’t pretending, Jaxson. Please. You’re just saying these things so I’ll leave you alone.”

  Jaxson forced his face into a cold, stoic mask. “Exactly. So, leave me the hell alone! It was fun being with you, I got a lot of laughs out of it. Hard to get it up sometimes, but – hey – I’m young, it don’t take much.” Lies. Lies. Lies.

  Tamara gave him one last look, her heart breaking. “So, that’s it? You don’t want me anymore.” She prayed he would say he didn’t mean those harsh words.

  “Don’t want you now. Never wanted you to begin with. I told you, it was just fun. I was bored and you fell into my lap. Remember, I told you I was just looking to get laid. So, thanks for the memories. Okay?”

  For a few seconds, she was frozen in place. Unable to move. “For true?”

  Jaxson felt his heart break in two. “For true.”

  Tamara nodded. It was over.

  Walking by him was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Turning, Tamara stumbled toward the door, her vision blurred by the constant steam of tears. When she managed to get it open, she took off running, needing to get as far away from him as possible.

  Jaxson gave her a moment, then rose from his seat. Going to the door, he leaned against the facing, watching as Tamara disappeared into the trees. Turning, he slammed his hand against the wall. He hadn’t meant anything he’d just said.

  Tamara Lynn Grayson was the most perfect female God ever put on this earth.

  She was smart, funny, drop dead gorgeous and the most incredible woman he’d ever been privileged to hold in his arms. But when she’d looked away from his deformity with disgust, any dreams he might’ve entertained about her accepting and loving him the way he was now – flew right out the window. He couldn’t handle her pity. She would try to be with him, even if the sight of him turned her stomach. Tamara was incapable of doing what was best for herself, so Jaxson had made it easy, chasing her off with vile words that any person on earth, except Tamara, would’ve known were stupid lies.

  Once she was gone, Jaxson stood on the porch, gazing into the setting sun. “Goodbye Tamara Grayson,” he said in a soft voice. “You’ll be better off without me, you’ll see.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Better off without me. She’ll be better off without me.”

  Jaxson mumbled, tossing and turning, fighting the covers. When he banged his hand on the nightstand, he woke up enough to open one eye. Damn dreams. God, he was burning up. He needed a breath of fresh air. Throwing back the blanket, he jumped to his feet.

  And fell flat of his face.

  “Fuck!” he screamed, his stump burning like hell-fire. “Fuck!” he cried again. This was the second time in the last week he’d woken up in the middle of the night and tried to get out of bed and walk.

  Rolling over, he lay flat on his back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Rubbing his face, he pushed the sweat dampened strands of hair from his eyes. “Life sucks!”

  He didn’t have the wherewithal to even try and get up. Reaching up on the bed, he pulled the pillow down and crammed it under his head. From this vantage point, he could gaze out the window and up into a midnight sky ablaze with stars. As he let his blood pressure settle after the shock of his fall, Jaxson let himself listen to the sounds of the night. A distant coyote. The call of a night bird. A chorus of frogs down by the river.

  Jaxson was so lonely he could’ve cried.

  “I got nobody to blame
but myself.”

  He’d pushed everyone away. His family. His friends. Tamara.

  Tonight’s dream wasn’t the first one. Jaxson was haunted by her face. Her eyes. The tears she shed when he broke her heart. Throwing his arm over his eyes, he let himself feel the tremendous burden of loss.

  …The next thing Jaxson knew something was bugging him. Hearing the buzz of a fly, he slapped the air and blinked, frowning. The sun was shining through the window right into his face. “Christ,” he grumbled, raising up and pulling himself nearer the bed. His plan was to grab onto the side of the mattress and drag himself up. Stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor, his movements were slow and jerky. In the process of maneuvering his clumsy self around, his eyes landed on something sticking out the edge of the mattress. After staring at the sliver of silver for a few seconds…he remembered.

  “Eureka!”

  Another day and another time came to mind. Reaching between the mattress and box springs, he pulled out a Smith & Wesson model 17 that he’d hidden there three or four summers back. Looking into the cylinder, he saw nine bullets. Lying flat, he reached under the bed to see if the rest of his stash was still there. With a smile, he pulled out one of four bottles of Jack Daniels. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  Holding the gun in one hand and the booze in his other, Jaxson smiled.

  Now, he had options.

  * * *

  Tamara could barely remember making the drive from the cabin back to her home. She could recall pulling over a couple of times on the side of the road to cry until her throat was raw and her eyes were red. She could also recollect hearing a song on the radio called Didn’t You Know How Much I Loved You. The sad lyrics described her heartbreak to a tee. Now, here she was a week later and she still couldn’t get Jaxson off her mind.

  Despite the cruel words he’d spoken, Tamara knew she’d never love anyone like she loved him.

  When Heath called to see how their meeting went, she was embarrassed to tell him the truth. How he’d shamed her. How he confessed that nothing they’d shared was real.

  “He wasn’t glad to see me. I didn’t stay but a few moments.”

  “So, no luck, huh?”

  “No, I think you should ask Chelsea to visit him.”

  “Well, hell. I guess I will. Was he rude?”

  “No. He’s hurting, that’s all.” Tamara hesitated, then whispered. “I think it’s safe to say we won’t be seeing one another again.”

  Heath cursed. “Well, hell, honey. I’m sorry.” There were a few moments of awkward silence. “I’d tell you not to give up, but Jaxson can be mighty stubborn. Just give him some time.”

  “Yes, I plan to. I do want to thank you all for everything. If we don’t see one another for a while, I hope everything works out for you and your family. I’ll be praying for Philip. Please tell everyone good bye for me.”

  “Don’t make it sound so final, Tamara. You don’t live too far from Highlands. We’ll see one another again.”

  “Of course,” she agreed automatically, but before hanging up, there was one more thing she had to say. “Heath, take care of him please.”

  “We will and you take care of yourself.”

  “I will. Goodbye.” Even as she ended the call, Tamara was starting for the door. The only thing that would save her would be if she could outrun the pain threatening to consume her.

  After five miles of running as fast as she could, Tamara sank to her knees and cried, knowing there was no distance great enough to make her forget Jaxson McCoy.

  * * *

  Jaxson was getting good at this.

  Sitting next to the bed in a straight back chair, he picked up the bottle of whiskey from where it sat surrounded by eight bullets and took a long swig. “Once more, just for fun.” After setting the liquor down, he picked up the pistol. With purposeful movements, he spun the chamber, and placed the muzzle to his temple. Closing his eyes tightly, Jaxson pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  “Dammit.” He took another swig, glancing over at the empty bottle of pills. “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.”

  Weighing the pistol in his hand, Jaxson wondered at his cowardice. He’d sat on the floor a night or so ago, placing the gun in his mouth, then taking it out. Once. Twice. Pete and repeat.

  He hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. Not without an out. Not without a chance.

  “Face it, you’re a yellow-belly.” Frowning, he spun the cylinder again, then lifted the gun to his head, and pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  “Russian roulette doesn’t seem to be your game.” An unidentified sigh rushed from his lips. Was he disappointed…or relieved.

  “Jaxson!”

  “Fuck.” He grabbed the bottles and the gun, scrambling to get them under the bed before his brother came through the door.

  “Hold on! I’m not decent!” Understatement. After hurting Tamara, he could make no claim of decency.

  Too late.

  Philip paid no attention to his pleas, he just barged in. Seeing the bullets on the table and the S&W in his hand, he froze. “Are you crazy?”

  “What?” Jaxson gave him a bland look. He knew he looked like shit. He’d needed a haircut before the accident. Now, he sported an unkempt mane to go with the scruff on his face.

  Picking up the pistol, Philip looked inside. “You know, Russian Roulette is rigged.”

  “What?” he repeated the same inane question, wearing the same inane expression.

  Philip huffed out a breath of frustration, placing the gun carefully on the bedside table. “Due to gravity, the full chamber weighs more than the empty chambers. When you spin the cylinder, the full chamber will usually end up near the bottom when the axis isn’t vertical, placing the odds in favor of the player.”

  “Well, shit.” Before his brother could say more, he picked up the gun, spun the cylinder, placed it to his forehead, and pulled the trigger.

  The click of the empty chamber came a millisecond before Philip snatched the pistol from Jaxson’s grip. “Motherfucker! You are certifiable!” With a glare that could freeze lava, he stomped out of the cabin.

  Jaxson sat there a moment, then it hit him where his brother was going. “Hey!” He snatched his crutches from where they rested against the bed and flailed around, trying to get on his…foot. “You’d better not, Philip!”

  Moving faster than he’d moved in days, Jaxson made his way out on the porch of the cabin – just in time to see Philip chunk his pistol in the San Saba River. “Damn you!”

  His curse didn’t phase Philip. He came back, holding Jaxson’s gaze, walking past him into the cabin. Snatching up the bottles of booze, he walked over to the sink and unscrewed the top, pouring the whiskey down the drain.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

  Philip might be smart, but he was no weakling. With a physique to rival any of his brother’s, he stuck out an arm and kept Jaxson at bay. “I’m saving your life, ass.”

  Jaxson wasn’t immune to his brother’s pain. With a mumbled curse, he returned to his chair and eased himself into it. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

  Philip gave him a look that spoke volumes. “Is anything right?” Shaking his head, he continued emptying the bottles of booze. “The trial is coming up. I came to see you, just in case…”

  He didn’t have to finish the sentence, Jaxson knew he’d come to say goodbye, just in case the trial didn’t go his way. “How does it look?”

  With a snort, Philip answered, “Well, Zane is cautiously optimistic, I think were the words he used.”

  “How about you? How do you feel?”

  “How do I feel?” Taking the empty bottles, Philip walked to the garbage and chunked them in. Jaxson winced at the loud clatter they made. “I’m scared. I didn’t kill that man.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m scared too. For you. For myself.”

  Philip came to him, yanking another
chair from the dining table to sit next to him. “Come home. We need you.”

  Jaxson shook his head. “I don’t know.” He picked up one of the bullets and rubbed it between his fingers. “I don’t know how to come home. I don’t know where I fit in.”

  Philip didn’t argue. “What happened with Tamara?”

  “I hurt her.”

  His simple statement resounded through the room.

  “Why?”

  Jaxson chunked the bullet against the wall. “I couldn’t handle her pity.”

  “Is that what she felt?”

  With a shrug, Jaxson dismissed Philip’s question. “Has anyone heard from her?”

  “Heath did. She told him you wouldn’t see her and that she thinks he ought to call Chelsea.”

  Jaxson jerked his head up. “Did he?”

  Philip chuckled. “Not yet. Do you want him to?”

  With a scowl, Jaxson frowned. “Hell no. How’s Pepper? And Ryder?”

  “How do you think? They’re mourning you.” Philip picked up another of the bullets. “This is exactly what they feared.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be.” Philip pulled something from his pocket.

  Jaxson watched as he laid a set of keys on the table. “One of the hands will be here in a few minutes to pick me up. Heath’s truck is outside.”

  “You brought old Red for me to drive home? Are you nuts?”

  “Heath is sending you a message, I guess. By the way, Dad misses you.”

  Low blow.

  “Memphis misses you.”

  Lower blow.

  “I’ll think about it. Okay?” This was as far as Jaxson would allow himself to go. He still had some soul searching to do that he couldn’t do around his overly attentive family.

  “All right.”

  Philip stood to take his leave and Jaxson pulled himself from the chair to stand aright. “Come here.”

  The two men hugged, then Philip doffed his hat and left Jaxson to finish battling his demons alone.

  * * *

  “Are you sure you feel like traveling?” Shelia Grayson looked on in concern while her daughter packed.