“It has something to do with your past?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And it’s something you want to remember?” he pressed.
“Yes.”
“That’s why I don’t have any tattoos,” he concluded. “People get tattoos for all kinds of reasons, but they’re always badges of what has made them who they are. I don’t care to remember what and who made me this way. The people that gave me life. The people that brought me up …” He shook his head, defiant. “The places I’ve seen or anything I’ve done. It’s all in my head, anyway. I don’t want it on my body, too. I don’t care about anything that much.”
His sneer wasn’t for me, but I knew I’d hit a sensitive area. And I kind of understood where he was coming from. The scars were on the inside—still doing their damage—and he didn’t want reminders when he looked in the mirror.
Our friends had been lucky. Tate’s mother—although deceased—had loved her. Her dad? Always there for her. Hell, even Jared’s mom had turned out pretty awesome. And Shane’s parents were overbearing, but they were compassionate.
And I finally saw what connected Jaxon Trent and me. How very different our lives would’ve been without our neglectful parents. Or with different parents.
“No mothers, no fathers,” I whispered to myself.
“Huh?”
I blinked, shaking my head. “Nothing.”
I barely noticed it, but when my lungs started to burn, I realized I wasn’t breathing.
I took a deep breath and picked up the supplies, standing up. “Your brother is important to you, right?” I asked. “Jared, Madoc, Tate … Maybe someday you’ll see how lucky you really are or find something or someone you do care enough about.”
Maybe me, too, I thought as I walked to the cabinets, putting the materials away.
Nice and tidy, the way I had found them.
Light flashed through the room, and moments later I heard the thunder roll outside.
Shit. I still hadn’t called Shane.
I heard the cot creak behind me and knew Jax had stood up. “It’s raining,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride home. Come on.”
I turned to find him standing in the doorway, filling up the frame and slipping his gray T-shirt over his head, a tear and bloodstains visible on the material.
Jesus. I damn near gulped at the way his ab muscles flexed and the V underneath disappeared into his shorts. The shirt draped loosely over his stomach, but the dips and curves of his biceps took up every spare bit of space in his short sleeves. Tall, with just the right amount of muscle, he was perfect. And I’d bet every woman thought the same damn thing when she looked at him.
Sex.
I turned back to the cabinets, trying to slow my breathing and not think of Jax and me alone in a car.
“I’ll give you a ride home.” I shook my head. Yeah, hell to the no.
“That’s okay,” I mumbled with my back to him. “I’ll call Shane.”
“If you even think of putting your cousin on the road in this weather,” he threatened in a smooth, deep voice, “I may have to see what I can do to get you on your knees again today.”
My face fell, and my tongue went dry. Little shit.
“Don’t piss me off, K.C. I’ll be in front of the building in five minutes.”
And then he was gone.
Jax’s car used to be Jared’s. I’d seen it plenty over the years, and although it was older than Liam’s Camaro, it was definitely a hell of a lot tougher. Or maybe it just felt more solid. I don’t know. I remember being in Liam’s car, waiting at a stoplight and feeling as if the car’s engine was going to die or something. Just the way it puttered felt as though it was about to give out at any moment.
But, sitting in Jax’s black Mustang GT, I felt as if I were sitting in a turbo jet as solid as a bullet the way it glided effortlessly through the torrential downpour. Inside, the spotless black interior was dark and narrow, like being in a cave. Outside, the wind blew sheets of rain across the windshield. I had to squint to see, because the windshield wipers could barely keep up with the downpour.
But the car provided a haven from the rain pounding on the rooftop outside, and the spray under the tires was a distant echo.
Even though I was safe and warm, I couldn’t shake the nerves making the hair on my arms stand up. I clenched my skirt in my fists and looked at nothing out the window.
He was too close. And—I rubbed my fists down my warm thighs—he wasn’t close enough.
“Here.” Jax spoke up, startling me. He reached behind in the backseat and tossed me a towel. “It’s clean.”
Of course it was. Jax might get his hands dirty from time to time, but his clothes and his car—at least from what I’d seen on the outside—were always impeccably clean. Hell, even his house looked pristine when I’d been in there.
“Thanks,” I said as I caught it at my chest.
Something to do. Anything …
I reached down and brushed off the droplets of rain that had drenched my legs, and then slipped out of my flip-flops to pat my feet dry.
I hadn’t gotten completely soaked, and Jax had driven the car as close to the school as he could, but I still caught an onslaught of fat drops. My clothes were blotched with nickel-size circles, and some of my hair was sticking to my neck and shoulders.
Brushing up my thighs, I straightened my back against the seat and wiped the water off my bare arms.