There’s never been a silence so loud as when Jax and I get into his truck. I rode with him to work today, so it is either he takes me home, I ask Kyle or Gage, or I call someone for a ride.
I’m glad it’s Jax because my heart sinks at the thought of being alone after Mick’s and Sandra’s insults.
How could they be so cruel?
Scratch that.
I shouldn’t be shocked.
They’re abusers.
I could hardly face Nolan and Toby when Jax told them he was taking me home and to call him if Mick and Sandra returned. By the worry in their eyes when the cops walked in, I have a feeling they’ll be more careful about their visits.
“Are you good to go home?” Jax asks. “I need to take care of a few things.”
I simply nod, despising his question in every way possible.
There’s a shift in him. It’s not my Jax who asked this.
I don’t remember the last time he didn’t just drive me straight to his home.
Even though he comforted me during my breakdown after Mick and Sandra left, he’s distant now. His eyes haven’t met mine. He’s hardly spoken a word.
“You’re not planning on doing anything dumb, are you?” I ask when he pulls in front of my townhome. It appears almost haunting since all I’ve done lately is grab clothes and scurry out.
“No,” he replies.
It’s like Mick and Sandra’s visit has Jax pushing me away, but I’m sure seeing them affected him, too. And I don’t look back as I walk into my house.
Want to know a way to make your head spin?
Pace your tiny box of a laundry room while waiting to see if the man you most definitely shouldn’t be falling in love with might be up to questionable activity. Jax had the look of a determined man when he dropped me off, so wherever he was going, he knew precisely what’d happen.
Two hours have passed since he dropped me off with a simple, “I’ll talk to you soon,” and a kiss to my forehead.
I pause my pacing when my phone vibrates in my hand, and I press my hand to my chest when I read Jax’s text.
Jax: I’m outside.
Good. I won’t need to go to the ATM for bail money.
I nearly trip as I rush to the front door and whip it open.
As per what seems to be usual with Jax, I find him standing in the doorway, heavy rain showering him. Water drips from his lips, from his arms, from his pants. His shoulders are slumped as he ignores the rain, allowing the thick droplets to pierce him, as if he’s accepting it as a punishment.
“Jesus, Jax,” I shriek. “Get in here.”
He doesn’t move.
Literally taking matters into my own hands, I capture his hand in mine. It’s freezing, almost numbing, and I easily tug him inside.
Jax kicks the door shut with the back of his sneaker and shakes his head, water flinging in every direction. I study him as he silently stands, drenched, in front of me. His tormented eyes meet mine, and all I see is pain in them.
He stares at me for what feels like forever, his gaze never tearing away from mine, as if he wants to prepare me for whatever torture is coming my way.
A shiver runs the length of my spine, and sheer panic shoots through me.
What happened in those couple of hours?
Did he hurt someone?
Did someone hurt him?
I’m afraid of his response, but I ask, “Jax, what’s going on?”
“He knew,” he screams, his voice as loud as the storm outside. “He fucking knew!”
“What?” I stammer.
“Chris knew about us.”
He rips something from his pocket, and I immediately recognize it.
Christopher’s letter.
“Read it.” He shoves the envelope in my direction, like it’ll catch fire if he holds it any longer. “Fucking read it, Amelia.”
There’s agony, pure suffering, on Jax’s face, and what’s in that letter terrifies me. Whatever is inside will destroy what’s left of me, and selfishly, I’m not willing to let it.
I’d rather sleep in my bedroom for the rest of eternity than read it.
I’ve witnessed Jax sulk, I saw him weep at Chris’s funeral, but I’ve never seen him this vulnerable.
“He knew about us.”
He desperately attempts to hand over the letter again, but I scramble back a step, holding my hand out to stop him.
I don’t take it.
I won’t take it.
He strides to me and pushes me against the wall, crowding into my space. Our noses brush against each other. Our mouths are so close that we’re inhaling each other’s sharp breaths. I quiver at his touch, tears falling down my cheeks, as Jax strokes my jaw. I shut my eyes, my heart slowing, and my shoulders relax.
I can’t lose him too.
Jax presses a gentle kiss to my lips, and I know this is his good-bye.
“We’re done, Amelia.”
I blink, processing the weight of his words, and he steps back.
“What?” A weak sob leaves me, and I grip his sleeve to stop him. “Why?”
He doesn’t have the balls to even look at me. “This was a mistake.”
“Mistake?” I shove his chest, and he backtracks closer to the door. “Why was it a mistake, Jaxson?”
“You want to know why?” His voice weakens. “Read the goddamn letter.”
“Jaxson,” I cry out.
“May we rot in this hell of guilt forever.”
He drops the letter, and it falls to the floor in what seems like slow motion.
My walls vibrate when he slams the door shut behind him, and my knees give out. I sink to the floor, cover my face with my hands, and scream.
I scream out my pain, wishing it’d make every inch of hurt stabbed inside of me break free.
What did I do wrong to deserve this?
I thought I was a good person. A good girlfriend. A good friend.
I do charity work. Pay my taxes on time. Have never broken one of those kindness chains through the coffee drive-through. Feed the freaking squirrels in my yard.
I’ve always strived to be a decent person, but it feels like I’m suffering worse than those who aren’t.
Putting every ounce of energy I have left inside me, which isn’t much, I use my foot to slide the letter to me. I blow out a series of breaths before opening it.
Christopher’s handwriting is sloppy, and some of the ink is smudged—although I’m not sure if it’s from him or from the paper getting wet from the rain.
Jax,
I want to start this letter by saying I’m sorry. I don’t know when you’ll read this, if you’ll ever read it, but everything I’m writing beyond this point won’t sound like the friend you’ve known for years.
First, I want to thank you for all you’ve done for me as a friend. One might say you gave me a few more years since I didn’t think I’d make it past twenty. It was nice, feeling normalcy for a change.
But anyway, remember when my brother died?
It was the worst day of my life.
Like always, you were there for me.
Your mom helped with the funeral arrangements.
The second worst day of my life was the day of his funeral.
Not only did I have to bury my brother, but I also found out my best friend was a liar.
That the woman I planned to marry was also a liar.
It was the day of the funeral when I asked to borrow a dress shirt since mine no longer fit. You told me to stop at the apartment and grab one from your closet. I did, but while doing that, something caught my eye. It was a box, and I’m sure when you’re finished with this letter, you’ll know what box I’m talkin’ about.
You were supposed to hate my girl, not fuck her.
I found the notes, the pictures, all of it.
Gotta say, it broke my heart, man.
You sat there at the funeral with me, all the while knowing you were keeping that secret. Later, when Amelia wasn’t home, I snooped through her stuff. She also had a box of mementos, some with you and some with me, and then I found her high school diary.
I sat on the floor, weeping while reading how my best friend and girl had touched each other, kissed each other, FUCKED each other. And not one of you bothered to ever tell me.
Then, my mind started racing. Did you never tell me because you were fucking my girl behind my back?
It hurts for a girl to betray you, man. It hurts real bad. But your best friend? That’s a knife to the fucking heart.
I don’t know how much longer I’ll be alive, but before I go, I want you to know that I know you betrayed me. I want you to know that’s one of the reasons I’m dead too. I don’t know if you’ll care because then you might get my girl.
I trust you to take good care of the brewery.
Just like I trust Amelia will too.
And this time, let me trust you not to touch my girl.
Godspeed.
Chris
A sob catches in my throat as I run to the bathroom and puke.
Wiping my mouth, I go to my bedroom without glancing anywhere but at the bed, and I grab the letter he left me.