The Boy I Grew Up With
Page 24
He kept Roussou safe, but I wasn’t fully whole unless he was with me.
And being him, he knew what was rolling through me. “I was protecting you too,” he said softly.
That was the worst of it—he’d fought that guy, or whatever he’d done, because he’d interrupted our moment. My presence always added to his response, and I suddenly found it difficult to breathe.
Fuck it.
I grabbed the box of cigarettes Brandon had stashed behind the bar and thumbed the lighter along with it.
I couldn’t breathe, so I was going to smoke. Totally made sense.
I burst through the door, already lighting a cigarette, and as soon as it hit my lips, I inhaled so fucking deep that the toxic shit went to my pussy. I needed relaxing, and I needed it now.
“Heather.”
Of course he’d come out behind me.
“Don’t,” I rasped, turning away when I felt him step close to me. “I mean it, Chan.”
He ignored me, reaching around and plucking the cigarette from my fingers.
“What?!”
He dropped it, grinding it out with his foot, and he had the pack and lighter in his hands before I could blink. “No.” He turned his back to me, blocking me out, and then the entire pack of cigarettes was on fire.
“What are you doing?!”
He dropped it in the bonfire pit, where it’d be safe to burn, and took my shoulders in his hands.
Propelling me backward, toward my house, he said sternly, “You stopped smoking for her. You stayed not smoking for her, and I’m not going to be the cause of you going back.”
My lungs were on fire, but not from the cigarette.
My eyes burned.
He hadn’t said her name, but he’d mentioned her, and it was the first time since the night we’d lost her that he’d been the one to do that.
I felt the porch steps behind me and turned swiftly, leading the way to my house.
We went through the door, and Channing leaned back against it, crossing his arms. He wasn’t crowding me, because he knew that’s not what I wanted. Now I was the caged animal. He’d unearthed a shitstorm inside of me.
I shook my head. “You asshole.”
He sighed. “I know.”
I started pacing, back and forth. We could hear the people outside. Some had parked behind the house and were cutting through the back to Manny’s, but they were blind to me. I heard their voices, their laughter, and I hated them.
I hated everything.
I hated him.
“You fucking asshole.”
“Let it out. We don’t talk about he—”
I flung a hand at him. “You don’t talk about her! Ever!” I flicked him my middle finger, continuing to pace.
I was about to explode.
More pacing.
The need to do something violent stirred in me. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to yell, curse, fucking smoke! I needed something, because I was feeling, and I didn’t want to feel.
Goddamn.
I didn’t want to feel, because all I could feel was her again.
How she’d felt in my arms, how tiny she was, how I’d wanted so bad for her little eyes to open.
Tears rolled down my face. I felt them on my arms, but I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t do anything except keep moving.
If I stopped, I didn’t know what I would do.
I would crumble.
I would collapse.
I would fall apart.
Heather motherfucking Jax did not fall apart.
It wasn’t in my DNA, and I wasn't about to start now.
But it was the silence in my head that killed me. It felt so loud, so pronounced, and it was there because she was supposed to have been crying. Screaming. I would’ve taken anything. Not wanting to hear nothing another second, I pounded my ears and let loose my own scream.
“AGHHHHHH!!!”
He crushed me. Channing’s chest silenced me, and I was caught up in his arms.
I sagged. The fight was gone. I needed to replace it with something else, and he was the only other thing that made me burn.
“Channing!”
He was already carrying me up to my room, pulling off my clothes. He wasn’t even kissing me. This was going to be rough—but then he pulled me into his arms again.
He kissed the right side of my mouth, then my left.
I curled my hands into his hair and gasped, “Don’t! I need it rough tonight.”
“No.” Another soft kiss to my lips, and I felt him sigh against me. His body shuddered. His hands swept back my hair, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead, then held me tight. “I don’t want to fight. I’m tired of fighting, so tired of it.”
He pulled back, and I saw his eyes shining.
“I loved her too,” he said, every word painful. “I wanted what you wanted. I wanted her. I wanted the stupid fucking white picket fence. I wanted the marriage. I wanted everything too.”
A tender hand moved down the side of my face, tucking some of my hair behind my ear.
I cried more tears. I could taste them. They were hot and salty, and I didn’t want them. I wanted to forget them.
I didn’t want to be taken back to that time, but as I struggled, as Channing’s arms tightened, apparently he was going to torture me with it.
He ducked his head to rest his forehead in the crook of my shoulder, and he held me. His mouth moved against my skin. “This is usually the time we fight. You yell at me because I’m not putting you first. I feel like a piece of shit because I know that’s what you deserve, but I’m too selfish to walk, and we go round and round.” He molded me against him, his hand falling down my back, pressing my thigh. “But I don’t have it in me, not tonight. You’re right.”
He lifted his head, and the rawness in him was almost too painful to see. He wasn’t hiding anything.
“I protect my town. I protect my crew. I try to protect my sister, and I am putting all of them above you, and I am a complete asshole because of that.”
But…
But he couldn’t change it.
But he would continue to pick his town, his crew, his sister over me.
I knew it. He knew it. And we were back to the start of our problems.
I tapped his shoulder lightly, to let him know I was a little more sane, and pushed him back a step. I needed some space, and I crossed to my bed. I lay down, not wanting to see him. That would’ve made this worse, because then I would only want him inside of me, and this conversation wouldn’t happen.
“I understand about Bren,” I started, whispering brokenly. I cringed though I knew we needed to say these words. That didn’t make it any better.
“Heather.”
“No. Let me talk.” I waited a beat. He was silent, so I started. “I have watched you love those guys. I’ve watched you become their friend, their leader, and I’ve watched you protect them. I know how many rely on you. I do.”
I looked back at him now, but he wasn’t watching me. He sat next to me on the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands.
“You pushed me away when your mom died. You pushed me away when your half-brother died. Then your dad went to prison. My dad took off. Our little girl died, and we were together for that night. It was just the two of us. No one else mattered.”
His shoulders stiffened.
“She was more than just our daughter. She was the promise you were giving me for our future, and without her…” My voice wavered, starting to shake. “Without her we’re back to how we were before.”
And being him, he knew what was rolling through me. “I was protecting you too,” he said softly.
That was the worst of it—he’d fought that guy, or whatever he’d done, because he’d interrupted our moment. My presence always added to his response, and I suddenly found it difficult to breathe.
Fuck it.
I grabbed the box of cigarettes Brandon had stashed behind the bar and thumbed the lighter along with it.
I couldn’t breathe, so I was going to smoke. Totally made sense.
I burst through the door, already lighting a cigarette, and as soon as it hit my lips, I inhaled so fucking deep that the toxic shit went to my pussy. I needed relaxing, and I needed it now.
“Heather.”
Of course he’d come out behind me.
“Don’t,” I rasped, turning away when I felt him step close to me. “I mean it, Chan.”
He ignored me, reaching around and plucking the cigarette from my fingers.
“What?!”
He dropped it, grinding it out with his foot, and he had the pack and lighter in his hands before I could blink. “No.” He turned his back to me, blocking me out, and then the entire pack of cigarettes was on fire.
“What are you doing?!”
He dropped it in the bonfire pit, where it’d be safe to burn, and took my shoulders in his hands.
Propelling me backward, toward my house, he said sternly, “You stopped smoking for her. You stayed not smoking for her, and I’m not going to be the cause of you going back.”
My lungs were on fire, but not from the cigarette.
My eyes burned.
He hadn’t said her name, but he’d mentioned her, and it was the first time since the night we’d lost her that he’d been the one to do that.
I felt the porch steps behind me and turned swiftly, leading the way to my house.
We went through the door, and Channing leaned back against it, crossing his arms. He wasn’t crowding me, because he knew that’s not what I wanted. Now I was the caged animal. He’d unearthed a shitstorm inside of me.
I shook my head. “You asshole.”
He sighed. “I know.”
I started pacing, back and forth. We could hear the people outside. Some had parked behind the house and were cutting through the back to Manny’s, but they were blind to me. I heard their voices, their laughter, and I hated them.
I hated everything.
I hated him.
“You fucking asshole.”
“Let it out. We don’t talk about he—”
I flung a hand at him. “You don’t talk about her! Ever!” I flicked him my middle finger, continuing to pace.
I was about to explode.
More pacing.
The need to do something violent stirred in me. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to yell, curse, fucking smoke! I needed something, because I was feeling, and I didn’t want to feel.
Goddamn.
I didn’t want to feel, because all I could feel was her again.
How she’d felt in my arms, how tiny she was, how I’d wanted so bad for her little eyes to open.
Tears rolled down my face. I felt them on my arms, but I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t do anything except keep moving.
If I stopped, I didn’t know what I would do.
I would crumble.
I would collapse.
I would fall apart.
Heather motherfucking Jax did not fall apart.
It wasn’t in my DNA, and I wasn't about to start now.
But it was the silence in my head that killed me. It felt so loud, so pronounced, and it was there because she was supposed to have been crying. Screaming. I would’ve taken anything. Not wanting to hear nothing another second, I pounded my ears and let loose my own scream.
“AGHHHHHH!!!”
He crushed me. Channing’s chest silenced me, and I was caught up in his arms.
I sagged. The fight was gone. I needed to replace it with something else, and he was the only other thing that made me burn.
“Channing!”
He was already carrying me up to my room, pulling off my clothes. He wasn’t even kissing me. This was going to be rough—but then he pulled me into his arms again.
He kissed the right side of my mouth, then my left.
I curled my hands into his hair and gasped, “Don’t! I need it rough tonight.”
“No.” Another soft kiss to my lips, and I felt him sigh against me. His body shuddered. His hands swept back my hair, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead, then held me tight. “I don’t want to fight. I’m tired of fighting, so tired of it.”
He pulled back, and I saw his eyes shining.
“I loved her too,” he said, every word painful. “I wanted what you wanted. I wanted her. I wanted the stupid fucking white picket fence. I wanted the marriage. I wanted everything too.”
A tender hand moved down the side of my face, tucking some of my hair behind my ear.
I cried more tears. I could taste them. They were hot and salty, and I didn’t want them. I wanted to forget them.
I didn’t want to be taken back to that time, but as I struggled, as Channing’s arms tightened, apparently he was going to torture me with it.
He ducked his head to rest his forehead in the crook of my shoulder, and he held me. His mouth moved against my skin. “This is usually the time we fight. You yell at me because I’m not putting you first. I feel like a piece of shit because I know that’s what you deserve, but I’m too selfish to walk, and we go round and round.” He molded me against him, his hand falling down my back, pressing my thigh. “But I don’t have it in me, not tonight. You’re right.”
He lifted his head, and the rawness in him was almost too painful to see. He wasn’t hiding anything.
“I protect my town. I protect my crew. I try to protect my sister, and I am putting all of them above you, and I am a complete asshole because of that.”
But…
But he couldn’t change it.
But he would continue to pick his town, his crew, his sister over me.
I knew it. He knew it. And we were back to the start of our problems.
I tapped his shoulder lightly, to let him know I was a little more sane, and pushed him back a step. I needed some space, and I crossed to my bed. I lay down, not wanting to see him. That would’ve made this worse, because then I would only want him inside of me, and this conversation wouldn’t happen.
“I understand about Bren,” I started, whispering brokenly. I cringed though I knew we needed to say these words. That didn’t make it any better.
“Heather.”
“No. Let me talk.” I waited a beat. He was silent, so I started. “I have watched you love those guys. I’ve watched you become their friend, their leader, and I’ve watched you protect them. I know how many rely on you. I do.”
I looked back at him now, but he wasn’t watching me. He sat next to me on the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands.
“You pushed me away when your mom died. You pushed me away when your half-brother died. Then your dad went to prison. My dad took off. Our little girl died, and we were together for that night. It was just the two of us. No one else mattered.”
His shoulders stiffened.
“She was more than just our daughter. She was the promise you were giving me for our future, and without her…” My voice wavered, starting to shake. “Without her we’re back to how we were before.”
