Inside of You (Jessa & Paxton #2)

by Haven Francis

  Jessa’s crying silent tears and I’m doing the same thing. “It was always us, Pax. It was always supposed to be us. I was always waiting for you. I’m ready. I’m ready for us. I can let them go and I can let you in,” she tells me, wrapping her arms around me and burring herself in my neck.

  In that moment I feel so much hurt and relief and happiness. I can see us- everything we’ve been through. I can see the paths that our lives took and how it all led to here, to right now at this moment. I would do anything to change what that sick motherfucker did to that girl. But Jessa did what she had to to survive, just like I did. And this is who we are. This is how we ended up. And I wouldn’t change who she is. Jessa is perfect. And with her in my arms I feel whole.

  Chapter 20 - Jessa

  “Let me see what you got on, beso,” Paxton calls from outside my dressing room in a Walmart in Henderson, Nevada.

  “Pax, they’re t-shirts. I don’t really need a second option,” I tell him, laughing.

  “Get your bikini on. I want to see.”

  I don’t really need to try the t-shirts on but I’m stalling. Walmart is not my usual go-to when I’m shopping for a vacation wardrobe, which is kind of what this whole road trip thing is turning out to be. But trying on bikinis anywhere, with that nasty little strip of paper in the crotch, is bad enough and somehow it seems worse in a Walmart. I put my own clothes back on and scoop up the shorts, tanks, t-shirts and bikinis and open the door.

  “Wha… you didn’t let me see?”

  “It’s adorable, Pax. You’re going to love it. Trust me,” I tell him, throwing the clothes in the shopping cart.

  “You didn’t try it on, did you? You’re scared you’re going to contract an STD from Walmart.”

  I stick my tongue out at him because he’s right. He’s always right. He nabs it with his teeth and laughs as I try to push him off of me. When he lets my tongue go I ask him, “What about you? Are you going to model some speedos for me?”

  “In your dreams, beso. I got plenty of shorts at home,” he says, his face lighting up.

  I smile at him. When I first suggested that we go to Venice I could tell that Pax wasn’t crazy about that idea. But now that ‘I’ve got my shit straight’ for the first time in my life, Paxton can’t stop talking about getting there and having his friends and family meet me.

  We’re only a few hours away but Pax couldn’t handle his one dirty outfit anymore so we stopped at Walmart for supplies and to get me a wardrobe fit for California.

  Paxton grabs our shopping cart and tells me to, “Get on”. I grab the bar and put my feet on the undercarriage. Pax pushes the cart with his foot before jumping on with me. People stare at us as we roll down the aisle laughing like idiots. Like kids. I feel free. Exactly how I have felt ever since Paxton held me on his lap and made me come to terms with my past and with what Dan Benson had done to me. I don’t know if free is how I’m supposed to be feeling. Maybe I should feel stupid for not seeing the situation for what it was, but Paxton was right – I was young and I was vulnerable and I chose to see him as my lover instead of my rapist. I can forgive myself for that. Part of me feels like there should be a new hate taking up space in my heart but there isn’t. I’ve spent enough energy hating him and hating myself for what happened between us, I don’t want to do it anymore. But once I finally understood what he had done to me there was a new fire inside of me.

  Paxton and I stayed in Colorado the next day mentally recuperating. I spent the day in his arms, purging anything that was lingering inside of me about Coach Benson, and about my dad too. As nighttime fell, the pain that lingered inside of me was not for myself, but for the girls that may have come after me. I knew that it was finally time to tell someone what had happened. I knew I had to tell my mom.

  Breaking news like that over the phone was not ideal, but I don’t know if I could have done it face to face. It was hard to say those words out loud to her because, although our relationship has deteriorated over the last eight years, I always understood that she never quit taking care of me, loving me the best that she could and being my mother. I had to tell her that her daughter, the one that she had made sure had a normal, safe, stable life, was raped by her coach… by her teacher. The conversation that followed was, obviously, hard, but it was the first time in the last eight years that I felt like I was connecting with her. There was passion and fear and anger and love in her words and in her voice. She was opening up to me and it felt good. It felt like I had my mom back.

  I thought maybe she would try to brush the whole situation under the rug – want to pretend like life was neat and orderly and manageable like she has been doing since my dad left, but it’s not the reaction I got – not at all. The next morning she and Dean went the River Bluff police department to talk to the sheriff, who happens to be Dean’s brother, and were able to file the necessary reports on my behalf and I was able to give my statement over the phone – one of the perks of living in a small town and being related to the local authority. The wheels are turning and I’m just praying that at the very least, Dan Benson will have his license taken away from him and will no longer be allowed anywhere near a school again.

  As far as Paxton and I go, things are much less complicated. Paxton is mine and I am his and this is our life. And I can accept that. And yes, there is still the possibility that some day he won’t be mine, but at least I am making my own decisions now. At least my life is up to me. And I can see what Paxton can see – that living in fear of the past and the future is no way to live. Especially when everything in the present is so perfect.

  He rolls us to the checkout, almost crashing into the old man in front of us in line. The man and the cashier both give us dirty looks but Paxton doesn’t seem to notice. He’s rummaging through the candy by the register, throwing a box of Sweet Tarts, my favorite, and three Snickers bars, his favorite, into the cart. I didn’t know what Paxton’s favorite candy was before this road trip, but I can now tell you that when given a choice between all the food and beverages at a gas station, Paxton will choose Snickers bars; Coke from the fountain machine; hot dogs that have been rolling around under a heat lamp for hours and a can of Pringles.

  I know all kinds of weird things about him now that I would have never thought to ask. For instance, I now know that, despite the fact he will let our bedroom in Chicago become a hazardous wastes zone, disorder in his, This Is A ’68 Dodge Charger, is not acceptable. Or, the fact that if his underwear are dirty he has no problem going commando. I also know that he’s one of those hoarders who will gank every free thing from the motel room, even the coffee filters. And he knows the lyrics to every song on every station on the radio, no matter what the genre, and will sing them at the top of his lungs if he feels like it.

  I’ve also learned that Paxton, the one who lives on the road, is uninhibited and silly and for sure my best friend yet. Or maybe that’s just who Paxton is now that there is nothing standing between us.

  Paxton pays for our stuff, ditches the cart and then wraps his arm around me and leads me to the parking lot. Every time we get out of the car the weather is a little warmer and I’m excited about heading south. I stare at his badass black car and tell him, “I miss driving. Since I left for Chicago I’ve driven like three times and the furthest I went was two miles up the road to Emily’s in my mom’s minivan.”

  “Are you trying to suggest I let you drive my girl?”

  “Your girl?”

  “Yeah. My baby,” he says with pride.

  “Really? I think your car looks like a badass grown man. I had no idea it was a baby girl.”

  “All cars are girls, kid.”

  “I want to drive her,” I tell him veering towards the driver’s side of ‘her’.

  This is the most tense I’ve seen him look since he broke me down and started to help me build back up. But he throws me the keys and I catch them, the smile returning to his face. “Really? I mean… Really? I was just fucking with you, babe.”


  “It’s just a car, kid,” he tells me, getting in on the passenger’s side.

  I get in on my side and close the door. “Oh my god,” I say excitedly, bouncing a little in the seat as I get the key in the ignition.

  Paxton laughs under his breath. “If you wanted behind the wheel so bad, you just had to say so, kid.”

  “Pax… you don’t let people drive her.”

  “You’re not people, beso. You can have anything you want,” he tells me, stripping off the Venice Ink shirt he took out of my suitcase and has been wearing for the past couple of days. I stare at his skin like I always do when it’s exposed – his lean, toned body, the way his stomach flexes as he reaches down into a Walmart bag to pull out one of his new t-shirts. He grabs the one with the 45 RPM on it, which is the least offensive one in the bunch by far. He pulls it over his head, running his hand through his hair before turning to me. “You gonna get out of those filthy clothes?”

  I, unlike him, have a suitcase full of clothes. But I’ve pretty much been living in my sweats and either a tank or a t-shirt because even after Paxton and I worked things out and I no longer had to cover up my body, I still didn’t feel the need to show it off. After the revelations he helped me see - the changes I made in my life after I slept with Coach Benson- I kind of don’t want to put a dress on. Maybe it’s because I started dressing like that because of him, or maybe it’s just because I want to be comfortable in the car. After our Walmart trip I’m kind of thinking it’s option A because, although there was nothing close to sophisticated in that store, there were a few decent sun dresses and tank dresses, but I didn’t even consider trying them on. “You want me to strip down in the Walmart parking lot?” I ask him.

  “No?”

  “No.”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Let’s get out of here then. Get on fifteen south and stay on it. When it ends we’ll be in LA.”

  “How long is that?”

  “About four hours,” he tells me with a smirk because he knows what I’m thinking and the thought of being in these clothes for four more hours is making me itch.

  “Give me something to wear,” I tell him.

  “You’re going to let me choose?”

  “Really, Pax, the options are pretty limited. You can’t really fuck with me.”

  He pulls out a pair of jean shorts, ripping the tags off before handing them to me. I get my sweats off and pull them on and reach my hand out for the white t-shirt he’s holding. I hold it up and see that it says, What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. “Super funny, Pax,” I tell him. “Too bad we never even made it to Vegas.”

  “We’re close enough. And the shit we did in that hotel last night qualifies as criminal.”

  Because he said that, I prop myself up on my knees and slowly pull my tank top over my stomach, teasing him like I did last night with my lap dance. I shimmy out of it before pulling it between my teeth and throwing it at him. He lunges for me but I stop him. “You forget so quickly, sir. You can look, but you can’t touch.” I push my hand into his face and he falls back into his seat.

  “Keep it up and you’ll be able to tell your friends you got nailed in a Walmart parking lot.”

  I pull my Vegas shirt on and pull my sunglasses over my eyes. “You keep it up and you’ll be able to tell your friends you pissed your girl off and she drove your ‘baby’ into a Walmart,” I tell him, adjusting my seat and shifting the car into reverse.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t,” I agree. “I can’t believe I’ve been spending so much time with her and I didn’t even realize that she was a baby girl. I feel awful. Does she have a name?” I ask him as I pull out of the lot.

  “I considered it… giving her a name. She deserves one. But I bought her right after I left you in River Bluff and yours was the only name running through my head.”

  “So… Jessa Jr.?”

  “No. Hell, no. She don’t get to have your name. I was thinking Lilly.”

  “As in Lillian… my middle name?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet. I like it. And you know, there is such a thing as a black Lilly. I think it’s perfect.”

  “Black Lilly,” he says thoughtfully, testing it out.

  I get us onto the freeway and then I gun it, letting out a squeal of excitement. The sound of the engine and the vibration of the road are exhilarating. I keep my foot on the pedal until we hit seventy five and then I let us coast.

  “She’s fun, huh?” Paxton asks me, his hand settling on my naked thigh.

  “Everything is fun now, but yeah, I like her.”

  “Maybe we’ll have to get her a sister.”

  “I never thought muscle cars were my thing. I always wanted a ’64 Datsun pickup or a ’56 Nash Metropolitan convertible. I was a sucker for cute vehicles with teal and white interiors and white wall tires. But maybe I’m a sucker for big powerful engines in badass cars with girl names.”

  “The things I don’t know about you…” Pax muses.

  “The things I let myself forget…” I muse back.

  “So you’re into classic cars?”

  “I don’t know. I was. My dad used to bring me to this big car show at the State Fairgrounds every year and it was one of my favorite things,” I tell him, willing now to remember all the things that belonged to my dad and I. “I was obsessed for a few years. Not only with the cars, but with the music and the movies. I was in love with James Dean and I wanted to be Doris Day. The only music I listened to for two years were the Beatles, the Beach Boys, the Mamas and the Papas and my Golden Oldies cd’s,” I tell him, smiling to myself. It’s sad how much of me I let myself forget just because it was attached to him. But every time I have a memory of who I was it feels like I’m reclaiming another piece of me. “What about you?”

  “You’re gonna find out in a few hours… things at home don’t change much. My dad and his homies have been listening to the same old school hip hop and rap tunes since I was a baby. I honestly don’t remember watching movies when I was a kid. Santos and I were totally into Pokémon.”

  “Yeah? I was into it for a while too. I loved Ash and Picachu.”

  “I kind of had a thing for Misty… and Nurse Joy.”

  “Of course you did,” I tell him, laughing.

  “We never spent much time indoors though. I had a bike and my boards and that was all I needed.”

  “I can’t wait to get there.”

  “Me too. I miss it.”

  I take my eyes off the road for a second to look at him; at the dreamy look on his face and I realize for the first time what he walked away from in order to be with me. “Thank you for leaving there to come get me.”

  “You think I left California for you?” he asks with a mock look of shock on his face.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Maybe,” he concedes.

  “I don’t know where I would be if you hadn’t done that for me.”

  “You probably would have moved on from Elijah by now, searching for a fresh fuck buddy,” he says with an edge to his voice.

  All I can do is shake my head. It seems so pointless – the way I was living my life. “You’re right. That would have been my life. If it hadn’t been for you I probably would have lived like that for the rest of my life.” That thought is overwhelmingly depressing. How could I ever thought that was any way to live? “It’s scary to think about.”

  “So does that make me your hero?”

  “You are definitely my hero.”

  “You’re my hero too,” he tells me, squeezing my leg.

  “Really? How so?”

  “Are you serious?” he asks me.

  I shrug my shoulders at him.

  “At the moment… it’s the super hero strength you’re showing me, dealing with that piece of shit. I mean, hell, you should be a puddle right now, but you’re not. You’re being strong for yourself and for any other girl that has to cross paths with that scum. But even before all this went dow
n you were still my hero. I wasn’t even living until I met you. I couldn’t even figure out who the hell I was ‘till I met you. There was no me until you. And I mean, shit beso… beyond that there are so many other big and little things…. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. But you lived it all with me. You know.”

  “So you don’t regret leaving Venice? Leaving your friends and your family for me?”

  “Hell, no. I don’t regret anything that has to do with you. Not one second of my life with you, not one thought of you that’s been taking up all the space in my brain since that first time I saw you. Everything is cool, beso. No regrets. Not when everything has led to right here, right now.”

  I take a hand off the steering wheel so I can interlock my fingers with his. He overwhelms me. I will never have the words that seem to roll off his tongue, telling me exactly what I need to hear. An image of his Venice graffiti pops into my head... Live and Die Devoted. I always thought that was such a monumental expression. Such a huge commitment to make. To declare that you would live devoted, until death, to one thing.

  I learned so much about myself that night in the hotel room with Paxton, but the thing that hit me hardest was not the realization that Dan Benson was not my first relationship, that what happened between us was essentially rape, but it was the fact that he had been in control of my life for all of these years. I didn’t get it, but Paxton was right - everything I did, I did because I was the girl he had turned me into that night in that hotel room.

  The independence I have gained in the past few days, because of this realization, has been incredible. So the thought that is running through my head is a little scary but I know in my heart it is true. “I will live and die devoted to you,” I tell Paxton.

  Paxton scoots across the seat, pulling me into his arm, ducking down to kiss the top of my head. “That’s okay, beso, ‘cause I am going to do the same for you.”