Beautifully Shattered (The Beautifully Series Book 1) (56 page)

“Well, since you
don’t need a first aid kit for me, I thought we could change
tonight up a bit.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal.

I try to act nonchalant
even though I feel anything but nonchalance remembering the countless
times I patched up his dad’s handiwork.

“So you’re going to
brush my hair?” I ask again.

“Yes and you’re
going to talk to me.”

I don’t say anything.
What do you say when an unbelievably hot man tells you he’s going
to brush your hair while you pour out your feelings? Nothing. So
instead I relax into him.

“Where were you going
tonight? Shouldn’t you have been at dinner with Logan?” Jax asks
me after about ten minutes.

The soft strokes of the
brush almost hypnotize me into sleep, but remembering where I saw him
and what he was doing jolts me awake. Gritting my teeth, I count to
five slowly, attempting to calm down.

“I was going for a
walk,” I say once I’m sure I won’t lash out at him.

He nods as if this
makes perfect sense. After another minute he sets the brush down on
the nightstand. Then he drags me to him so I’m resting against his
chest while he leans against the headboard. I melt into him thinking
that the interrogation ended.

“How was therapy?”

I should have known
better. Jax isn’t known for letting things go.

“Fine.”

“Obviously you got
worked up. That’s why you went on a walk. That’s why I found you
like I did.” He says the last part quietly.

I don’t even attempt
to count and calm down. I can’t. Not about this. I’m out of bed
glaring at him.

“Who do you think you
are? You don’t know me! You don’t care! You weren’t here! You
didn’t find me! Harper called you! You left! You fucking left me
like always!”

I’m crackling in
anger. My entire body trembles from the physical need to hit
something or someone, but I refuse to give into the urge. In the next
second, Jax wraps me in his arms. I thrash, squirming to get away
from him. It’s pointless, I know it, but I can’t stop fighting
him. I don’t need him. I want to hurt him. Not because he’s Jax,
but because he’s here. I don’t want to be the only one dying
inside.

“I-I . . .” I can’t
even say I hate him. I don’t, and no matter what, the words won’t
come out.

Out of nowhere a memory
of Jax leaving me standing in the middle of LAX airport bombards my
thoughts. I’m begging him to stay with me in California, not to go
back to NYU. He didn’t even look at me as he broke my heart and
walked away, without a promise to return. As I concentrate on when
this was, everything surrounding it, the vague memory drifts away,
leaving more questions.

“You left me,” I
murmur again and again.

I repeatedly pound my
fist into his chest. He doesn’t say anything or try to stop me. I’m
not hitting him hard enough to hurt him, but even if I was, I doubt
that he would stop me.

“It’s okay,” Jax
says once I drop my hands to my side.

I gaze into his green
eyes. His sincerity is why words tumble out of my mouth without any
conscious thought.

“They left me. I
listened to them die, Jax. I wasn’t able to do anything but watch
as my mom died right before my eyes! I’m so mad at them. All of the
time. Why did they die and I survived?”

My legs give out, but
before I can fall to to the floor, Jax catches me. Instead of
carrying me the short distance to my bed like I expect, he sinks to
the ground and leans against my bed frame with me in his lap. I rest
my head against his shoulder and lay my hand over his beating heart.
Jax stops rubbing my arm, laces his fingers through mine. Warmth
radiates off his hand. He makes me feel safe.

“How could they leave
me? I can’t . . . I miss them every day. There’s days I wake up
and I forget about the accident and I’m happy. I’m blissfully
happy. Then reality comes back with a vengeance and I lose them all
over again. There’s times when I even go as far to call out for my
dad. I hate that! I hate not knowing when I’m going to wake up and
think that they’re alive. I fucking hate that I live for those
mornings, just to be truly happy, only to be crushed all over again.”

Jax wipes his thumb
over my cheek and it’s then that I realize I’m bawling. Reaching
up, I touch my face. The wetness I feel is foreign. I don’t cry.
Ever. I haven’t cried in six years.

“I’m so angry! All
of the time! I’m so angry at them! They left me!” I cry into his
shirt.

I don’t know how long
we stay like this, me sobbing into his shirt while he holds me. He
never tries to tell me it will be okay or some other bullshit advice.
He kisses the top of my head while drawing patterns on my arms. It
feels like I’m going to run out of tears, but just keep pouring
down my cheeks. I can’t stop mourning what I lost, what was stolen
from me.

I cry for the death of
my parents.

I cry for the death of
Hadley.

I cry for the death of
me.

Feeling like it’s
been hours since I started weeping I try to calm down. Which of
course just makes me cry harder. Why can’t I stop sobbing? I clutch
onto Jax, afraid that he’s going to get up and leave me like this.

“Don’t . . . I—”

“I know, just let it
out. I’m not going anywhere,” Jax whispers into my hair.

Just hearing that he
isn’t leaving me is enough to help me breathe again. I gave up
wiping my face a long time ago since it’s pointless. I snuggle into
Jax’s chest and breathe him in, willing the tears to stop. After
what feels like another hour, the tears finally dry up. I wipe my
face and nose with the end of Jax’s dress shirt.

“Sorry,” I mumble,
not feeling sorry at all.

Jax brushes the hair
out of my face and kisses my nose. “Don’t be.”

When I’m finally
calmed down again, Jax picks me up as if I weigh nothing and strolls
to the bathroom with me in his strong arms. He cleans off my face
with a warm towel while I sit and watch him take care of me. Once
he’s satisfied, he carries me back to my bed. After covering me in
my blanket, he turns off the light. My side lamp is on so I can still
see clearly, but I’m not blinded by the light anymore. He kicks off
his shoes. After stripping out of his shirt and carelessly throwing
it on the floor, he unbuttons his pants.

“We’re gonna cuddle
like old times and if you want to talk more, I’m going to listen.
If you just want me to hold you, then you’ll be in my arms all
night.”

I study his face while
he strips out of his pants. As much as I want to stare at other
places on his body, I can’t. Nothing has changed between us and I
need my friend right now.

Jax peels back the
duvet and slides in next to me. He lifts his arm in the air, an
invitation for me to cuddle. I don’t need to be told twice. I
eagerly lay my head on his chest, and wrap my leg over him, while he
holds onto me tightly. I melt into him, expecting to sleep but to my
surprise, I open up more.

“I told Liv about the
crash . . . It was like I was there all over again. Reliving it all.
I could see it all as clear as I can see you. I was so scared. I
didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t—”

“Stop. You did
everything that you could. You need to stop blaming yourself. It
wasn’t your fault. I miss them too, but I’m not sorry that you’re
here, Ads. I need you to be here. I can’t imagine losing you.”
His voice cracks.

Gazing into his eyes, I
know he’s telling the truth. Which makes it impossible for my heart
not to break a little more. He loves me. I know he does. Everything
he does proves it over and over again, but he’s not willing to do
anything about it for whatever reason. Hearing the sincerity in his
voice shatters me.

“I don’t know how
to live without them,” I admit.

“One day at a time,”
he says, repeating what Liv has told me countless times.

“I know, it’s just
hard.” Stalling, I nuzzle closer to him. “I felt like I was
betraying them somehow. I wouldn’t allow myself to be happy because
they weren’t here. Anytime I started to live again, I could hear my
dad’s head hit the window. I’d hear my mom’s last words and,
mostly I would see Hadley’s lifeless body while the paramedics
tried to save her.”

“They wouldn’t—”

“I know. That’s why
I started trying. I realized that if things were different and she
was here instead of me, I wouldn’t want her weighed down by guilt.
I would want her to live to the fullest because I couldn’t. I would
want her to live for me. That’s what I’m doing. I’m living for
all of them, especially Hadley. She was so young, she didn’t get to
experience life. I feel like I tainted their memories somehow because
I haven’t been experiencing life for so long.”

I close my eyes and
picture my parents and my little sister. Instead of seeing their
lifeless bodies, I see them alive and happy. I see my dad hugging my
mom while they dance in our kitchen, and I see Hadley twirling around
the house in a tutu when she was eight. I’m surprised that the
images don’t make me fall apart. Instead they make me smile, a sad
smile, but it’s still more than I’ve been able to do in the last
six years. Anytime I remember them, I’ve always felt guilty. It’s
strange not having that guilt anymore.

“That’s why I won’t
go back to the way I was. I can’t. I know if I do, I won’t be
able to pull myself out of it again. And I couldn’t do that to
them. My mom told me to be strong and I need to start being the
strong person she believed I was.”

Jax doesn’t say
anything and I’m glad. He kisses the top of my head. Seconds turn
into minutes with neither of us speaking, just basking in each
other’s warmth. Eventually Jax ends the silence.

“I’m proud of you.
You’re the strongest person I have ever known. You had your entire
world turned upside down, everything was taken from you, but you
didn’t give up. You—”

“I did give up.”

Jax turns my head so
that I’m forced to look at him.

“No. You. Did. Not.
Give. Up.” He says each word slowly. I manage to give a little nod
because I don’t trust my voice.

“I’ve watched you
for the past six years. You continued to fight even if you weren’t
aware of it.”

I start to interrupt
him, but he places a finger over my lips, silencing me.

“Every day you got up
and went to school. You graduated top of the class and now you’re
pursuing a career we both know you don’t really want. You’ve been
through more than anyone should at such a young age, but you never
gave up. I don’t want you feeling guilty because you think you
haven’t been living. You have, just in your own way. You had to
overcome everything going on in your head to fully come back to us .
. . to me.”

I desperately want to
kiss him, but I can’t. I know he believes every word he just said,
and for some unknown reason, I believe it, too. I kept fighting . . .
It just took me six years to realize what I was fighting for . . . I
was fighting for me, for life.

“I don’t remember
our sleepovers being so depressing,” I say, trying to lighten the
mood.

He forces out a laugh.
“Yeah, because sneaking into your room against my best friend’s
back was sunshine and daisies.”

“You know what I
mean.”

“I know,” he says
with a sad smile before reaching over me to turn off my side lamp.

“You know, if you
ever want to talk about that, I’m here,” I say into the darkness.

Jax’s body tenses. I
immediately regret bringing up his past. If he wanted to talk about
it, he would. I mentally curse myself.

“I don’t even know
what to say.” Jax breaks though my internal rant.

“Whatever comes to
you,” I say, repeating what Liv has told me several times.

I count to thirty. I’m
positive that Jax is just going to change the subject or go to bed.
This is untouched territory for us. We’ve never really spoken about
all those nights long ago. It’s kind of like an unspoken promise to
not mention it, even back when I was patching him up. I’m about to
open my mouth to relieve the tension in the room when Jax finally
speaks.

“Okay.”

Okay.

I will myself to stay
perfectly still. He’s never once ever talked about what happened in
his house. I don’t want to move or talk. Heck, I don’t even want
to breathe in fear that Jax will snap out of it and shut down on me.
That I’m used to. Jax is always shutting people out, especially me.
Please, please open up.

Jax has stopped drawing
patterns on my back, and instead squeezes me so tightly that I’m
positive that I’ll have bruises by my ribs. I don’t care. If a
few bruises is all it takes for Jax to open up to me, I’ll gladly
show them off. Jaxon Chandler is about to confide in me.

I’ve counted to one
hundred . . . twice. Still nothing. It’s time for me to push him
like he has pushed me to do things I reluctant to do.

“Have you ever talked
to Wyatt about it? Has he ever said sorry or anything?”

Even though I asked, I
already know the answer. There’s no chance in hell that Wyatt has
ever apologized. He isn’t sorry. I doubt that pathetic excuse of a
man is sorry for anything.

“You already know the
answer.”

“Enlighten me
anyways.”

Jax doesn’t say
anything at first. He squeezes me a little tighter to him, if that’s
even possible. I suck in a breath to keep from wincing.
It’s
just a little pain.
I remind myself that the pain is worth
it.

Almost like he can read
my mind, Jax releases his death grip. He still clings to me, but now
I’m able to breathe normally without my ribs feeling like they’re
going to burst into my lungs.

“Wyatt isn’t the
kind of person to apologize.” Jax rakes his hand through his hair,
a gesture I know all too well. “Besides, what would I ask him? Oh
hey, Dad, remember when you used to beat the shit out of me? Do you
ever regret it? Did you ever feel bad? Did you ever want to kill me,
or did you just settle for beating the shit out of me until I begged
for death so the pain would stop?”