Dearest Series Boxed Set (43 page)

W
hen the phone starts ringing
, I’m so distracted by the thought that Dani made me pancakes this morning that I don’t bother looking at the caller ID.

That’s a mistake.

“Jackson, were you planning to tell me you struck someone with your car?” My mother’s scratchy voice snaps me out of my good mood. In true Joselyn Avery fashion, she doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “I’m sending my attorney over there right now.”

I sigh, pressing the heel of my palm into my temple. “Over where, Mother?”

“To her apartment to get her to sign a non-disclosure. The last thing we need is for this story to end up on every gossip website. I’m closing a deal, and I don’t need the bad press.”

My mother keeps bitching, and I tune her out. I close my eyes, hatred seeping from every pore in my body as I curl my hand into a fist. An evil smile spreads on my lips. “That’s fine because she’s not at her apartment. She’s here.” Taking a nap. In my bed.

The gasp on my mother’s end gives me some small degree of pleasure. She’s always trying to ruin my life, so it’s the least I can do. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she hisses. “She can sue us, especially once she gets to know you and sees all of your dirty laundry.”

I don’t bother telling her Dani already knows plenty about our lives. Dani heard my sister and me arguing that day, and I’m sure she’s learned all kinds of juicy details from living with Clem. I usually hate for people to learn about the shit that’s gone on with my family, but for some reason, it suddenly doesn’t bother me that Dani knows. “Mother, you think everyone wants to sue us.”

“Don’t be a fool, Jackson. When you’re worth as much as we are, everyone does.”

I’ve often wondered what made my mother this paranoid bitch. I can appreciate that running a multi-million-dollar corporation must be taxing, but she’s always been this way, even before she inherited my grandfather’s company. I suppose her father hating her and adoring Clem might have twisted her up, but fuck, she’s the adult. Shouldn’t she act like one?

Putting my mother in charge of the trust fund was the last thing my grandfather did. Then he died of a stroke. I tend to think relinquishing control of all that money to Joselyn killed him.

Something slams in the background. “Jesus, Jackson, did you fuck her?”

In a parallel universe, I have a soft-spoken mother who bakes me cookies and has the good sense to not delve into my sex life. In that world, I have healthy relationships with women because the one who birthed me is not the spawn of the devil.

In this moment, I’ve never hated anyone more than I hate this woman. Three more years of taking her bullshit so I can get my trust fund suddenly seems like a long damn time. But if I stop playing her game, if I tell her all of the things she deserves to hear, I’m screwing myself and my sister because even though she’s cut off Clem financially, Joselyn is too selfish to know I plan to give my sister half of what I inherit.

My jaw unclenches. “No, I didn’t sleep with—”

“Actually,” my mother says with a spine-chilling laugh, “maybe that’s better. Sweet-talk her and get her to sign. Once she sees the check, that will seal the deal. As we both know, every girl has her price.”

Goddamn her.
Of course she’d bring up Giselle right now.

“Don’t waste your time, Mother. I don’t think Dani will sign. She’s not that kind of girl.”

If she were, all she had to do was tell the cops the truth—that I was on the phone when I plowed into her with my car—and I’d be in the middle of a shit storm right now.

It’s Joselyn’s turn to laugh, and the sound makes my skin crawl. “After everything, I can’t believe you’re still so naive. I thought I taught you better than that.” I laugh at the thought that my mother tried to impart anything of emotional value to me. “I hope law school teaches you a thing or two next year.”

That’s the bitch of it all. To play her way, I have to give up soccer. Not that my head has been in the game this fall, but it’s the only dream I’ve ever had.

My skin is clammy when I hang up. There’s only one place to work this out in my head. I go back to the treadmill.

A few hours later, Dani and I are back in the saddle, lounging in front of the TV in the living room and cueing up another movie.

“So you don’t regret missing out on Black Friday shopping?” I ask incredulously.

She scoffs. “I hate Black Friday shopping.”

“I thought girls lived for that shit.”

She wrinkles her nose. “One, I hate crowds. Two, who needs to get up at two in the morning to save five dollars on some piece-of-crap game console that will be obsolete within the next six months? And three, if I were shopping right now, I’d be missing out on scary movies, and I love scary movies.”

If making breakfast this morning didn’t make me fantasize about taking her on the kitchen table, this does. She’s everything I’d want in a girl—she’s funny, thoughtful, doesn’t hold any punches, is drop-dead gorgeous, and doesn’t have a vain bone in her body. And even though I nearly killed her two days ago, she’s as sweet as can be. Bonus.

Wait. When did I start thinking about what I’d want in a girl?

After watching
28 Days Later
and
Shaun of the Dead
, both movies she’s seen before, I pull out all the stops.

“Have you seen
The Descent
?” I ask as I put a giant bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of us.

She says she hasn’t, and I smile because this is straight out of my high school playbook, back when I thought I could like a girl for more than just a fun night.

The thought jars me—if anything happens here, this thing with Dani would be so much more than sex. That scares the shit out of me because Giselle was the only girl I’ve ever had a relationship with, and she fucked me over so royally that this is the first time I’ve gotten close to considering another one. And it’s been nearly four years. Never mind that my sister will skewer me if this goes to hell and she has to bear the brunt of the fallout.

But before I can reconsider if watching a movie I suspect will terrify Dani is such a smart move, the room darkens as the first scene begins.

In forty-five minutes, she’s moved from her side of the couch to mine. And with twenty minutes left of the film, she’s practically in my lap. I have my arm around her, and her head is tucked into my chest.

“I can’t look, Jax,” she mumbles into my shirt. She’s warm and soft against me, and fuck if she doesn’t smell amazing.

“Open your eyes.”

“No!”

I chuckle, and she swats me. “Don’t laugh. This is really scary. I’m going to have nightmares.”

“I thought you said you liked scary movies.” I can’t help the laughter that spills out around those words.

“Zombies aren’t realistic.
This
is realistic. They’re rock climbers and—”

“They’re spelunkers.”

“Whatever.”

She opens her eyes just in time to see one of the girls in the movie get pulled down into a river of gore. After an ear-piercing shriek, Dani seems content to clutch my chest and hide, which is fine by me.

As the credits roll, the room is dark, illuminated only by the flickering light of the letters on the screen. She’s clinging to me as though her life depends on it. I stroke her hair. “Dandelion? You okay?”

“Is the bloodbath over?” She peeks up at the screen and sighs. “Sorry, I’m not usually such a spaz.” She wrinkles her nose. Goddamn, she’s cute.

When she turns to face me, we’re so close her breath fans against my skin, and my eyes dip to her lips, which are slightly parted.

I still have her in my arms, and her head tilts just slightly to the right, and mine tilts just slightly to the left.

“Dani?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is sexy and soft.

“So you’re really not seeing that guy Brady?”

She shakes her head slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.

“And… you’re not seeing anyone else?” Because that would suck.

“No, Jax, I’m not.” Her eyes dart away briefly and then shift back and pin me down. “But maybe the better question is, are
you
seeing anyone?”

“No, Danielle. I haven’t really dated much all semester.”

She stiffens in my arms, her breathing erratic.

When she doesn’t say anything, I add, “I haven’t gone out with anyone in at least a month.”

In the silence that follows, I start to worry she’s going to come to her senses and realize I’m not worth her time.

She leans toward me slightly. “Really?” Her voice sounds hopeful, and that spurs me on to say more.

“I know what you’ve probably heard from my sister, but I’m not really the man-whore she thinks I am. Anymore, at least. I know you’ve seen me with girls, but they haven’t meant anything.” I swallow, trying to say what’s really on my mind. “I mean, why waste your time on someone if she’s not who you really want?”

We stare at each other, and in the seconds that pass, there’s an unspoken conversation about need and desire, and her eyes darken. I slowly close the distance, my lips brushing against hers. It takes a second to process that this is actually happening. That this girl I’ve kissed dozens of times in my dreams is here in my arms.

Scooping her up, I drape her across my lap, making sure to put down her injured leg gently.

Her tongue is tentative, flirty, dipping and stroking against mine in a way that has my heart pounding. All I can smell is the scent of her shampoo, her skin and the sweetness of popcorn on her breath. My hands roam her soft curves, and when she wiggles in my lap, my dick roars to life. Trying not to ravage her, I slow the pace, nibbling on her lip and jaw before I make a descent down her neck, which feels so familiar, I stop and grip her to me.

“Jax,” she whispers.

That’s all it takes. Her voice in my ear.

My mouth opens and I bite down on the smooth skin of her neck. Her head tilts back as a moan escapes her lips. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and she arches into me. This position sucks since she can’t straddle me with that leg brace, so I lift her up and set her down on the couch, swinging my legs around and shifting us so we’re lying down side by side.

I pause, worried that she’s uncomfortable, but then her other leg wraps around my thigh, and she presses herself against me. Her hands tug my shirt up, and I rip it off. Then she struggles to pull up her shirt, but I still her.

“No, let me.”

Her breath catches, and she nods and lies back. I prop my head up on my arm and stare down at her. I brush my thumb against her smooth cheek.

“You’re so beautiful, Danielle.” Even without makeup, I haven’t been able to stop staring at her for the past two days.

Her dark hair is spread out beneath her, and she looks like my erotic fantasy come true. I even love the pink streaks that peek out from beneath the darker strands. I run my nose against her jaw as her fingers thread through my hair. I don’t know what’s happened between us this week, but I feel like she’s infected me, like she runs through my veins.

I kiss her, slowly at first, because part of me feels like I’ve waited a long time for this moment, and I want to sear it into my brain.

When I deepen the kiss, her leg tightens around me, but I can’t nestle between her legs the way I want or I could injure her. I close my eyes and pause, resolving to not rush this. The last thing I want is to hurt her.

I pull away, and she stills. I look in her eyes.

“Danielle, can I touch you?” She licks her lips and nods, and my heart hammers in my chest. “Baby, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

It’s not really a question, and I don’t expect a response except she whispers, “I want you too, Jax.”

So far, I’ve kept my hands in safe places—her back, her hips, her shoulders—but spurred by her words, my hand grips her perfect ass, grinding her up against my cock until we both moan.

I will not have sex with her tonight. I will not take it that far. She’s not the kind of girl I fuck like that.

The words are still knocking around in my head when she tilts her hips and presses against my length again.

“Fuck, Dani.”

She pulls back to run her hands over my chest and stomach, tilting her fingers just enough to scratch lightly down my skin, leaving a trail of fire.

I reach down and pull off her shirt, and the sight of her sheer lacy bra has me zeroing in on the one thing my brain hasn’t stopped thinking about since that shower last night—those piercings.

I look to her first, and she nods before my hands race to unlatch the snap in front. The second it’s off, her nipples tighten on her lush, perky breasts, and the small hoops glimmer in the darkness. Her hands pull my head down to her until my mouth is wrapped around her skin. My tongue flicks at the metal, and she moans.

Her breath quickens, her chest rising and falling beneath me. I’m just about to lose my mind when a loud knock on the door startles us both.

“Jax! It’s Hannah. I have cookies. Open up.”

Goddamn it to motherfucking hell.

Dani stills and the look on her face says it all. She thinks another girl is here to see me.

“Babe, it’s just my neighbor. The one with the little girl.”

I kiss her, and she relaxes against my mouth. A second later, I pull away and yell, “Hang on! I’m coming,” while we scramble to put our clothes on.

Actually, I’m not
coming
. And that sucks. But Dani is here, and that makes everything right in the world.

A
pint-sized princess
, complete with a tiara, sparkling shoes and a pink cape, comes charging in behind her mom and attaches herself to Jax’s leg. He laughs, picks her up and swings her around.

Oh my God.
Jax with a kid.
My insides flutter, and I have to fight to clear the images taking root in my mind: Jax with a family. With a daughter. With
our
daughter.

Shut the fuck up, Danielle!

If I could punch myself in the face right now, I would. I only met Jax three months ago. We’ve had two hot hookups, one of which he doesn’t even remember, and I’m sitting here in crazy-land.

He points to the plate her mom is holding. “Chloe, did you make these cookies all by yourself?”

Her mom sighs and shakes her head as Chloe giggles. “Mommy helped. But I did the fwosting.”

Blonde curls bob on her little head, and when she spots me, she kicks out of Jax’s hold and beelines over to the couch. She looks at me sideways, appraising me. “You’re pwetty. Are you Jax’s gulfwend?’

My mouth drops open, and I wish she weren’t so cute so I could toss her back into the hallway, but her mom comes to the rescue.

“Honey, not every girl you meet here is Jax’s girlfriend,” Hannah says.

Ouch.
Lest I forget about the hordes of other women milling about in his life.

She turns to me. “Sorry, she’s going through this weird stage where she thinks every female is a mom or girlfriend.”

Plastering on a smile, I shrug like it’s no big deal. I wonder how many times this has happened—Hannah coming over while there’s some random girl on Jax’s couch with rumpled clothes. My heart squeezes in my chest.

While I understand what Jax told me, that he wasn’t seeing anyone, I don’t know if that means the same in his screw-everything-with-two-legs world as it does in mine. Does this mean he’s not having sex with anyone now or that he only messes around a little?

Because I get that he doesn’t do the girlfriend thing. It’s not as though those sexts have stopped coming. His stupid phone lights up every couple of hours with messages from a different girl. He ignores them all, but still.

Hannah’s eyes pass over me, a small smile tilting up her lips.

God, I can only imagine what I look like right now. I quickly run my hand over my head trying to smooth down the just-fucked hair. Not that we did the deed or even came close, but I know how my face looks when I’m worked up.

She lifts her daughter into her arms and turns back to me.

“Hi, I’m Hannah. I’ll just introduce myself since Jax is too rude to do it himself.”

I laugh softly, the kind of laugh you do when you’re trying to be casual and pretend you’re not dying, and Jax shrugs as he takes a huge bite out of a cookie. With a mouthful of food, he says, “Hannah, this is Dani. Dani, Hannah.”

Hannah snorts. “Boys.” She rolls her eyes. “I was surprised to see your cars here. I thought you were going skiing. It’s all you’ve talked about for the last month.”

Crap. I caused him to miss out on his big weekend.
Maybe… but at least he’s not running around with those boobalicious girls from last weekend.

Jax swallows his bite and motions toward me. “I hit her with my car and had to take her to the hospital. She decided not to kill me, so here we are, watching scary movies.” He says it so casually that it almost sounds normal.

Hannah turns to me, gaping. Yes, apparently I’m gape-worthy.

I shake my head. “I’m his sister’s roommate. Jax and I know each other. I’m not some random girl off the street he decided to mow down.”

Yeah, I’m not a random girl who just took off her shirt and let him feel her up. I’m someone he knows. Someone his sister knows.

Oh, holy crap.

When he told me he got a concussion on his birthday, I was euphoric that he hadn’t forgotten me because he was in some alcohol-induced haze—that it was because of some freak accident—and every emotion I had worked so hard to shut off this fall came rushing back. Then that stupid movie had me crawling up his body like a damn spider monkey.

Hannah’s still staring at me. “What did he hit you with? The BMW or the Jeep?”

“BMW.” He and I say it in unison, and then I turn to him and ask, “Why do you need two cars? This is Boston. There is such a thing as public transportation.”

“Babe, the Jeep is for all things extracurricular.” He takes another bite, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about activities that involve sex, nakedness and jumbo-sized breasts. My stomach sinks a little more, but then he says, “The guys and I go camping and hiking, and I need to be able to pack shit on the roof rack, but it gets terrible mileage, so I use the BMW for driving in the city.”

Chloe claps her hands over her ears and stares at her mom, who gives Jax a look that tells me they’ve encountered this situation before.

“Sorry, Chloe,” Jax says, admonishing himself for cursing. “Here, have a cookie.”

Chloe takes the snack and pauses when it’s halfway to her mouth. “Where’s Nick? He likes my cookies too.”

I almost forgot Jax has a roommate.

“Went skiing. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

Hannah’s eyebrows lift. “Not if the weather keeps up. We’re supposed to get twelve inches tonight and tomorrow. What have you been doing all day that you don’t know this?”

He looks to me, smirks, and shrugs. My cheeks burn, and if I could, I would burrow my head into a deep pit of sand.

When Hannah and Chloe leave, he saunters over and smiles. “Your shirt is inside out.” His grin widens. “And backwards.”

I look down to see the Old Navy tag.

#OMFG

How embarrassing! I can just add that to the rapidly growing list. Who cares about the list I made in August. This one is going to make Travis lose his shit. I think I’ll call it “101 Ways Dani Hart Can Die From Exposure to Jax Avery.” If I’m not careful, I’m going to end up a cautionary tale with a sign around my neck like a hobo.

I collapse on the couch, too mortified to say anything.

“Hey.” He sits next to me and tilts my chin up with his finger. “It’s pretty damn adorable. Besides, I just want to rip your clothes off again anyway.”

It only takes that one touch, and I want to stop thinking about how this could go wrong—so, so wrong—because I feel drawn to him like he’s my riptide in water that’s way too deep.

He clears his throat and his serious expression makes me sit up straighter. “What are you doing in two weeks? On the fourteenth?”

I shake my head. Haven’t a clue.

Oh. Is he asking me out on a date? Inside I do a happy dance, but I clamp my jaw to prevent a huge grin from spreading on my face.
Play it cool, Danielle!
“Not sure. Why? What did you have in mind?” Romance? Candlelight? Sweaty sex? God, yes!

He shrugs and spreads his hands on his thighs. “You know Daren is up for the Heisman, right?”

I study his face, the way his cheekbones slope down to those perfect lips. “Sure. Everyone in the state of Massachusetts knows.”

Jax smirks. “Okay, well, I was wondering if you’d like to come to a banquet with me. His parents are throwing this huge party to celebrate.”

Oh. Holy. Shit.

Chill. Chill.

“Yeah, I’d love to come.” I try to say it calmly, but it’s rushed, like I’m out of breath.

He grins, slightly crooked, like he’s almost embarrassed, and I wish I could pause my life and live in this moment. Jax Avery just asked me out, and I’m irrationally excited about it.

I lean over and kiss his cheek, and as I pull away, he grabs my arms, keeping me close, so close that the heat from his body radiates off him, warming me.

“I could get used to you, Dandelion,” he whispers, leaning down to brush his nose against mine in the kind of sweet gesture usually reserved for couples in love. Jesus. If this is part of his game, I’m lost, hook, line and sinker.

You should tell him. Tell him what happened on his birthday.

Swallowing, I take a deep breath, wanting to do the right thing.

He brushes his lips against mine before he pulls back. I’m filled with his clean scent, and all I can think about is how his lips feel like warm caramel when they’re pressed against my skin.

I smile, flushing under his stare, and he starts to lean in again when my mom’s ring tone, “We Can’t Stop” by Miley Cyrus, blasts from my phone.

The judgment on his face makes me frown. “Shut up. I like Miley. I don’t care if she enjoys licking hardware from Home Depot.”

He laughs and kisses me gently.

“Hold that thought.” I hold up a finger.
Damn these interruptions!

Jax smiles and heads into the kitchen while I take the call.

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“Dani.” She sniffles. “Do you have some time to talk?”

The somberness in her voice is all it takes for my euphoria to come to a screeching halt. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, baby girl.”

The sound of her sudden sobs jolt me. Everything in my life stops. I don’t blink. I don’t take a breath. I don’t let my heart beat.

After a moment, she takes a shuddering breath. “It’s not good, honey.”

The last time she said that, she had cancer.

The last time she said that, she had both breasts removed.

The last time she said that, she almost died.

No.

No, no, no.

The silence that gapes between us feels like it might swallow me whole. I brace myself to hear what I already know. Tears well up in my eyes before she says the one thing I know will shatter my world.

“It’s back.” She cries softly into the phone. I clench my eyes shut, hoping this isn’t really happening. “I wanted to tell you when you came home for Thanksgiving, but then you had that accident. I thought maybe I could wait until Christmas, but…”

She trails off, but I know what she’s saying. She doesn’t think there’s much time.

There are no words, just a blackness that sucks me whole into the only place I’ve ever understood despair, and I sob into the phone.

She tells me she’s known for almost three months.

My mother has known all fall and hasn’t said a word.

I hiccup into the phone. “Why didn’t you say something? I would’ve come home. There’s that other treatment that one doctor thought—”

“No, honey. There’s nothing left.”

My world spins, forgetting its axis. Forgetting that my mom is a survivor. Forgetting that the little bit of fight I have in me comes from her strength. And now that’s gone. “Don’t say that. I thought you said you’d do whatever it took if it returned.”

She sighs, like the weight of this has been too much. “The operation wasn’t enough. It spread, and I don’t want to spend my last few months in a hospital. I don’t want to—”

“Stop talking like that! You’re the one who’s always telling me you’d beat it.”

I cover my face with one hand. My other one shakes as I try to keep the phone against my ear.

There’s only one thing to say now. “I’m coming home.”

“No.” Her response is immediate. “Finish the semester. We’ll see the doctor together over the holidays and figure out what to do then. Maybe I can come out to Boston in January so you can finish out your junior year.”

She’s talking about the end. She’s saying it’s close. So close that she wants to spend her last days here with me.

“Mom, I don’t want to stay. I need you. You’re all I have left. Please stop talking like this. Let me come home. I bet I can get a flight out this weekend.”

“Danielle, no. It was bad enough that you missed almost a month of school last year. I don’t want you to have to make up another semester’s worth of work just to miss a few weeks. It’s not that much time.”

Not that much time.

But when there’s nothing left, not that much time is all that matters.