Burned Page 14

  That was the most they’d communicated since her big reveal and his big shut-down.

  He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed to his room to dress, shovel some food in his belly, and ready himself to head home.

  On the way back to his house, his phone vibrated. He’d forgotten to turn the ringer back on.

  Hoping it was Blaire, Jackson picked it up from the middle console. He groaned at the caller ID. Jake.

  Not now.

  He tapped the connect icon.

  “What?” he snapped into his phone.

  “Hey, bro,” Jake said.

  “And I said, what?” Jackson had no patience for his brother today.

  “Whatcha doing?”

  “Heading home after work.” He turned the corner to his street. “What do you want?”

  “I’ve, uh…I’ve got a situation I need some help with.”

  “Is this the thing that involves jail time and you needing me to bail you out?” Jackson’s jaw solidified.

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, that. Is it or is it not?” Jackson cranked the steering wheel to the left and eased into his driveway.

  Jake hesitated. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Are you in jail right now, Jake?”

  “No!”

  “Are you about to be?” Jackson reached up and massaged his temples.

  “I hope not,” Jake said.

  “Then, what’s the situation?” Jackson slid the keys from the ignition and stared at his home, hoping it still was a home and not just the house he’d purchased before meeting Blaire. “Wait, never mind, I don’t want to know. I’ve gotta go.”

  “But…”

  “No, Jake. I got my own shit to deal with right now.” He softened a bit and said, “Look, we can talk about whatever it is you have going on later.”

  “Never mind,” Jake said, in that mealy-ass defensive voice he adopted when things weren’t going his way.

  Jackson sighed. “Jake, look…I’ve had little sleep, and I’ve definitely got my own situation to deal with. We can talk about yours later.”

  “I can take care of myself, Superman,” Jake said.

  “Then, why’d you fucking call me?” Jackson roared.

  Too late. Jake had already hung up.

  He shook his head and wiped his eyes, trying to get back to the moment.

  My fucking brother and his situations.

  He blew out a long breath and exited the truck. He tromped along the gravel toward the front door.

  The second he stepped foot in the house, the dogs greeted him with their usual tail-wagging cheer.

  He patted their heads and rubbed their muzzles, trying to buy himself some time before he faced Blaire.

  Come on, you’ve been rehearsing this the entire ride home. Man up and deal.

  Finding the courage, he lifted his head and spied her in the front room, curled on the sofa, staring down at a magazine in her lap.

  The dogs trotted to their beds and sat down, tongues lolling.

  Maxine let out a sneeze.

  “Bless you,” he said to her. He licked his lips and focused on Blaire. “Hey, Blaire,” he said softly.

  “Hello,” she said, stiffly, not lifting her gaze.

  “Aren’t you going to look at me?” he said, his heart crawling around in his chest, seeking comfort.

  She lifted her head. Dark, ugly circles lined her puffy eyes like she’d been crying all night. Dressed in a faded, ratty sweatshirt and loose sweatpants, she looked pale. Even her hair hung sad and listless like she hadn’t bothered combing it this morning. Blaire always combed her hair and looked put together.

  “How did your shift go?” she said, in a monotone voice.

  “Like shit. I had no time to think. And last night, a thirteen-year-old kid was out joyriding and went off the side of the hill on Woods Road, killing three of the four passengers, including himself.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.

  Her forehead furrowed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” He eyed the dogs and then Blaire’s lowered head. This isn’t what I’d call hopeful. He remained in his spot. “I’ve got some good news.”

  “What is it?” she said as if she couldn’t care less what he had to say. Lowering her gaze, she flipped a page in her magazine.

  “We’ve got an in with an FBI agent.” He leaned against the doorway. “He’s interested in the Karlos story.”

  A tic pulsed in her right eyelid. She raised the magazine and glued her eyes to it as if it were the most fascinating thing she’d ever read in her life.

  “I see,” she said. “So, we’re pursuing the ‘keep Blaire safe’ plan, am I right? I appreciate it.”

  Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyelids shut. When he managed to open his eyes, he said, “Look, I was an asshole, all right? I’ve gotten this far in life because of my ability to detach from situations and deal with the facts at hand.”

  Her head jerked up, and she met his gaze with fire. “I am not one of your patients, okay? That strategy might work with a stranger, but not with me.”

  “Understood,” he bit out. His heart stopped and started like a failing car engine.

  For a few terse seconds, his eyes locked with hers in confusion, apology, and frustration.

  “How could you have kept that story from me?” he eventually said.

  “How could you have walled me off when I finally got the courage to tell you?” she said, blinking rapidly.

  “I was stunned. I didn’t know what to do. It was like I fell in love with one version of you and another version stormed in and took her place. I don’t know who this new version is.” His legs felt incapable of movement like they were rooted to the floor.

  “And how did you think I felt when you told me about growing up parentless with your brother, huh? Did I reject you? Make you feel like total shit for sharing? Make you feel like a stranger for telling me?” Her words shot out on an arrow of anger.

  “It’s hardly the same, Blaire. I was only a kid. I was abused. And I didn’t make you feel like shit. I was struggling.” His stomach pinched into a small, hard, ball. He found it hard to breathe. “I tried to be helpful.”

  “You cut me off when I needed you most,” she said. Then, she began to sniffle. “And, I know it’s a sucky comparison. You were innocent. You didn’t have a choice. I was an adult who made idiotic choices. I’m so ashamed.” She buried her face in her hands.

  A thick silence hung between them like a smothering fog encapsulating the entire house.

  Words and retorts formed in Jackson’s mouth. He wanted to defend himself. He wanted to explain.

  But when his lips parted, the only thing that emerged was, “I’m sorry, Blaire. I’m truly sorry.”

  “I don’t deserve your sympathy.”

  “Yes, Blaire, you do. What you endured was awful.”

  She blinked rapidly.

  “I’ve never told anyone about my time in Caracas,” she whispered. “Not the level of my involvement, anyway.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “No one?”

  She shook her head.

  “And the one person you told turned out to be an asshole.” What a mess I’ve made.

  “The one person I told is the only one I felt safe enough to share with.”

  Ouch. Jackson ran his hand along his chest, hoping to bring some life back to the vital organ that pumped blood through his system.

  Her chin quivered. “I was so scared when I lived in Venezuela. Every day of my life. Every minute, every second. I felt scared and so stupid to be there. I knew nothing about Karlos except that he had money. I was an idiot to go there and meet him. We never talked about reality. Not mine, not his. I bought into the fairy tale, never realizing it could be so ugly in Prince Charming’s castle.”

  Tears slid down her cheeks and dripped onto her sweatshirt, forming dark stains.

  “Can I come closer?” he asked.

&
nbsp; Her head bobbed up and down.

  He crossed the floor and sat next to her, gathering her in his arms.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” he said into her hair.

  She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder, making a noisy sniffle.

  “I should have comforted you,” he said.

  “You should have,” she whispered.

  “I should have told you how much I love you and how helpless it made me feel that you went through that…that you’re still going through that. That you’re worried about your life. I won’t lose you to that prick of a man, Blaire, I won’t.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured into his neck. “I’m so scared he’s out there, hunting me. What if he’s got our house marked and he’s just laying in wait? And I…” She let out a sob. “You’ve already endured so much. I didn’t want to impose my stupid choices into our relationship. But, now, I’m afraid it’s too late. I’m afraid something’s going to happen to you.”

  He held her tightly and melted into the connection. Now that she was in his arms, he became all too aware how desolate he felt without her. She had become the blood in his arteries, the breath in his lungs. He couldn’t live without her.

  She eased away from him. “So, what do we do next?”

  He traced every tortured line, every swollen spot on her messed up, beautiful face. “We fix it. I know how to fix things.”

  “Can you mend my heart? Because it’s hurting right now.” Her eyes welled up with more tears.

  “Mine, too.” Sharp stabs of his own tears made him blink. “That’s the thing I don’t know how to fix. I…I’m not very practiced with this part. I’ve never let anyone get this close.” He swallowed back the apple-sized lump of emotion in his throat. “You fell in love with a pretty messed up guy.”

  She smiled through her tears. “And you fell in love with a pretty screwed up woman.”

  He tapped his fingers against his thigh, wondering how much to say to her. This sharing business—it was all somewhat uncharted territory. He reached for her hand and placed it over the right side of his chest. “This heart…It started beating again when I met you.”

  She sucked in a ragged breath and reached for his hand, placing it over her breast. “Mine, too.”

  He nodded, feeling like his chest had been torn open with a rusty knife. He cupped his hand around hers, interlacing their fingers. Then, he brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them.

  “There have been a handful of moments in my life that were life-altering,” he said. “One was when my mom left. I was about seven. I asked my dad over and over where she went. He’d make up some shit about ‘to a relative’s,’ or ‘not sure, son, but she’ll be back.’ Since I never met a relative and didn’t really know what one was, I wondered about that phrase. Every day, I waited by the front door for her until I’d fall asleep on the little rug like one of our mutts.” He glanced over at Maxine and Midget, sound asleep in the corner. “And then Dad would pick me up and carry me to bed.”

  Blaire’s hand flew over her mouth.

  He squeezed the back of his neck. “She sure wasn’t the best mom. At seven, I didn’t know what it was to get high, but she seemed all present one moment, drifty and unresponsive the next. I lived for the times she was present. She was fun. Bright. She made me laugh. My small heart broke into a thousand bits when she left and scattered to the wind. When I met you, well…it’s like all the pieces of my soul gathered in my body for a reunion.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Or, maybe a do-over.”

  “I know,” Blaire whispered. “My ability to trust got obliterated in Venezuela. I swore I’d never love again. And then I met you and discovered what real love was all about.”

  He sucked in a breath. That apple of emotion bobbed into his throat again and, once more, he swallowed it away. “Then, Dad started drinking a lot. Jake and I…We’d find bottles under his bed. The garbage can overflowed with empties. And soon the other women came and went. They weren’t Mom. Some of them tried to parent Jake and me, but we never let them. I always held out hope that our mom would come back and everything would be okay. Jake was bitter. He told me over and over that Mom was never going to return. I hated him when he told me that.”

  Blaire blinked away more silent tears. She reached for his hand and held it.

  Her warm palm felt like an anchor in his turbulent sea. “So, then, one day we woke up, and Dad was gone. It wasn’t anything unusual. He’d disappeared on us before, a few days at a time, and then he’d stumble home and sleep off whatever binge he’d embarked on. But this time he never came back. We waited…and we waited. When the food in the fridge got low, we got hungry. We started to scrounge around for food. Weeks rolled by and still, no Dad. We didn’t want to contact the authorities because they’d want to place us in foster homes or some shit. And Jake said, ‘if we’re not home when Dad comes back, how will he know where to look for us?’ He loved our dad the most. They used to be buddies.”

  Jackson massaged the ache in his chest. “So, that was defining moment number two. The first was when my mom left, the second was when my dad left. And the third was when you told me your story.”

  Blaire yanked her hand away. “I see. Telling you about Karlos was like your parents abandoning you.”

  He shook his head as panic bubbled in his gut like tar. “No. Stop. Don’t go there. I’m trying to make a point. You have to let me finish.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m listening.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Your story is heartbreaking. It’s like you revealed a giant wound to me. A huge, gaping ugly wound. That’s what I do, Blaire. I care for people with big, gaping sores and get them where they need to be. I couldn’t do that when you told me. I went all comatose. I went to that place that I frequented when reality struck back home. I couldn’t have survived back then unless I learned to wall off my heart and just go through the motions.”

  He wiped his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, wishing Blaire didn’t have to see him so weak.

  When he managed to get his emotions under control, he said, “But at least your wound has air. It’s out in the open. We can’t stuff it away. So, I…” His voice cracked. “I couldn’t heal the damage left by my mom and dad. But, by God, I’m going to do everything in my power to heal this wound, to make sure you don’t suffer a minute more by what Rivera did to you.”

  Her body relaxed, and she dropped her arms.

  “I love you, Blaire Edwards.”

  “I love you, too, Jackson O’Halloran.”

  The words coated him like warm honey.

  “Together, we can fix this. We can find a solution. I’m not letting you go if you still want me. And, even if you don’t, I won’t rest until Karlos Rivera has paid for his crimes. He has to be held accountable.” His breath caught in the cobwebs of the past still lodged in his throat.

  Her eyebrows bunched together. “Why would I not want to be with you?”

  He gulped. “Because I’m not a wealthy man. I can’t give you diamonds or fancy clothes. I’m always going to be a firefighter.”

  “Is that what you think? You think I liked all the crap Karlos sent my way? I was being bought, Jackson. My loyalty was being purchased. If I hadn’t met that one Argentinian who gave me that blessed money to escape, I’d still be down there or worse, dead. I was never going to escape.”

  The word “dead” punched a hole in his chest.

  “And the best thing that ever happened to me in my life would never have happened,” Jackson said, blinking away the annoying tears that threatened to burst free.

  She took both his hands in hers. “Baby, when we met, the stars shifted in the sky. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. And you’re wrong about one thing.”

  “What’s that?” he said, feeling like his chest might explode with the shrapnel of emotion.

  “We can heal the damage your parents inflicted on you. Yo
ur huge loving heart is still intact, Jackson. I intend to buff it, polish it, and nurture it—to nurture you, my superhero of a man.” A mischievous glint twinkled in her eye.

  His heart did all sorts of crazy flips and cheers in his ribcage, while his dick stirred in his pants. He grinned. “And just how do you intend to nurture me back to good health?”

  “By making good friends with your cock,” she said.

  Blood rushed to his groin. That overwhelming sensation of wanting to crawl inside of Blaire’s body and disappear inside her goodness washed through his cells.

  “Come here,” he said, tugging her waistband.

  She came willingly, and he fell back on the couch. Her warm body pressed against him and it was like the sun returned, after weeks of rain.

  “I hated losing connection with you, baby,” he said, pushing the hair back from her face.

  “I know. Me, too.” Warm tears dripped from her cheeks, landing on his face.

  “Do we have it back?” he said, wiping the tears from her soft skin.

  She nodded.

  “So, why are you crying?”

  “Because of you. Because of me. Because of everything in this fucked up world that I don’t know how to deal with.” She blinked, sending more hot tears dripping against his cheeks. “I felt so lost not being connected to you.”

  “I know, baby. Me, too.” Jackson brushed his hands up and down her warm back. “So, now that we’re kissing and making up, let’s make a plan. First, I’m going to love on you until neither one of us can stand. And then, we’re going to kick the shit out of whatever options are available to us to make sure you’re safe, and Rivera pays for his crimes. Sound like a good plan?”

  As she murmured her consent into his neck, he had one last thought before diving into Blaire—he hoped upon hope that the FBI option bore fruit. Otherwise, he had no Plan C.

  Chapter 18

  Even though he and Blaire had made up, Jackson couldn’t shake the shadows of potential loss that lurked at the edge of his consciousness. He suspected Blaire had withheld details about being with Karlos—deadly details. And he knew better than many how suddenly people could disappear. It seemed paradoxical that the more he fell in love with Blaire, the more he feared to lose her… and the more he worried about fucking up by disconnecting from his emotions.