“Okay,” he says without hesitation, and something about the way he says it, quickly and eagerly, as if he’d do anything for me without knowing what it is, makes the tension in my chest loosen, replaced with a sudden bloom of warmth.
“It’s illegal,” I say slowly. “Very. At least, I’m pretty sure it is.”
Jaxon grins, and leans over to kiss me.
“Even better.”
13
ATHENA
Ithrow on something similar to when Dean took me to the country club—all black. Black jeans, black long-sleeved shirt, my black Docs that have been everywhere with me, black knit beanie. “Can we take the bike?” I ask Jaxon, and he nods, looking at me curiously. I can see a glittering excitement in his eyes, almost anticipation, and it makes me feel even more that I love him, because he’s here for me no matter what. Dean might be, after taking me to burn down the club, but I’m not sure. And Cayde might, but I can’t be certain of either of them. They have their own agendas, their own ideas about when it’s appropriate to break the rules and when it’s not. But all Jaxon cares about are two things—revenge for Natalie, and me. He’ll break any rule, do anything I ask, if it means telling the Blackmoor kings to fuck off or makes me happy.
I don’t know thathappyis how I’d describe my feelings about what I need to do right now, but I know that it’s right. I know that it’s what needs to be done. I know that it will make me feel better, maybe even give me a little closure. And I’ll take as much of that as I can get, because I know the days to come will only be harder than before, in a lot of ways. Even if sometimes I can’t imagine how it could still get more difficult, I know it will. None of this is over.
We slip downstairs, watching to see if anyone is around before heading for the front door. Jaxon pulls out his motorcycle, handing me a helmet before swinging on and firing up the engine. “Where are we going?” he asks, and I can see his smirk faintly underneath the visor.
“The cemetery,” I tell him, and I see his expression falter.
“Athena, are you sure? Do you think you can handle it, so soon—”
“I need to do this,” I tell him firmly. “I’ll explain once we get there. But I just know—I have to do this.”
Jaxon hesitates for just a second, and then he nods. “Okay.” He doesn’t say another word after that, and my heart swells in my chest, because he didn’t argue with me. He didn’t try to convince me otherwise, or tell me what he thought Ishoulddo. He just trusted me to know what was best for myself.
I didn’t know how much I needed that until right this second.
There’s something different that I get from each of the men, and I’m coming to love Cayde and Dean for their own reasons. Dean is stoic, a rock that I can depend on to not falter when a situation needs logic reason, and someone who has proven that he’ll care for me when I need it most. Cayde is pure fury, anger that feeds my anger, someone who will encourage me when I need to lash out against the world and who can take every bit of rage that I might have inside of myself. Jaxon can do that too, to some extent, but no one does fury like Cayde. When it was directed at me it was terrifying, but directing it outwards together, we could burn the world down as one.
Jaxon—Jaxon is something else. Jaxon feels like a part of my soul that was missing, and though I still can’t entirely forget what he did to me, I can understand it. I can understand the grief and rage and hurt, the feeling of betrayal and the desire to lash out and destroy the person he saw as being responsible for that betrayal—even if it was me.
And he let me punish him. He let me give it back. And now we’re even.
Now we can start fresh.
These boys, all three of them, once saw me as something beneath them. Something to own or torment or ignore. But now they’re seeing who I really am. Their equal in intelligence, in rage, in fighting spirit. They’re seeing that I can hold my own, that I’m not someone to be bullied.
That I’m not a sacrifice. I’m not a pawn.
But if they’ll let me, I’ll be their goddess.
I’ll be their fucking queen.
And we can rule over the ashes of this place together.
Jaxon drives me straight to the cemetery as I cling to him, feeling the wind whip through my hair and sting my cheeks. It’s cold, almost too cold to be out on the bike really, but I don’t care and I know neither does he. It lifts my spirits to be out here with him, to see the ribbon of empty road unwinding in front of us. It makes it feel, just for a little while, as if the world belongs to us. As if there’s nothing and no one else, and all of our problems fall away, leaving only this. Only us and the asphalt speeding by.
When he drives through the gate, heading slowly up the twisting road that goes up the hill to where my mother’s grave is, the cemetery is equally empty, quiet and dark and still. Jaxon doesn’t ask me for directions, and I notice that—that he remembers where the grave is. He took note of it, probably because it meant something to me, and that makes my heart clench, warmth spreading through me as I press my cheek to the leather of his jacket. It smells good, like him, and I breathe it in, steadying myself for what’s still to come.
Jaxon kills the engine as we reach the area where my mother’s plot is, and he pulls off his helmet, his hair clinging to one side of his face as he looks at me. “Alright, Athena,” he says, his gaze calm and curious. “We’re here. What are we doing?”
There’s no judgement in his voice, no censure, no indication that he’s going to tell me whether he thinks my plan is a good idea or not. He simply wants to know what’s next, so I tell him.
“I need to dig up my mother’s urn.”
Jaxon blinks, as if that’s not at all what he was expecting, but he just nods again. “Alright,” he says slowly. “Do you want to explain more than that? Because I’ll go along with whatever it is that you’ve got in your head, Athena, but it might be good if I had the full picture. Just so I can help you.”
Something about those words cracks something loose in me, and I stare at him for a long second, almost unable to breathe with how much I suddenly feel that I love him. I hadn’t expected—this, exactly. This unwavering acceptance of whatever I’ve decided, on the spur of the moment, makes me more certain than ever that I made the right choice to forgive him.