Fallen Angel (The List #3) (4 page)

1:20pm

J
ack gives me a surprisingly tight bear hug on
the doorstep. Not in a creepy way, I’m a tactile person and apparently so is he.
It echoes his friendly personality but leaves me curious as to why he feels I
need comforting. Maybe I’m just being paranoid
but
… does he know I’m
about to be completely friend zoned?

We go through to the dreaded kitchen and
everything is immaculate. Whilst we make a coffee he reassures me again that
everything ran smoothly and other than the aftercare of his wound to help
prevent infection, Jax is on the home straight. He reiterated how important it
is that he rests. I told him that Jax and I are friends and that although I haven’t
known him long, I do care about him. Not that Jack was prying, I actually
steered the conversation that way. He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to, his
face said it all.

The combination between his genuine smile and
the honesty in his eyes, tells me that he somehow already knows how much I care
about Jax. No, it’s more than that, it tells me that he can see the first draft
version of my words, the ones in my head before I filter them for his ears.

I say, ‘
We only met four weeks ago.’
But
the pre-edited version was,
‘We only met four weeks ago and it’s been the
best four weeks of my life.’

I say,
‘It may sound strange but I do care
about him.’
But the pre-edited version was, ‘
It may sound totally fucked
up but I absolutely love everything about him’
.

Jack stays downstairs fiddling with a new
smartphone, whilst—on wobbly legs—I head up to Jax’s bedroom. Nerves set in
again and I have to set the cups of coffee down on the steps halfway up to
steady my hands.

The bedroom door is open. I take a calming deep
breath. Other than the conversation I’ve fabricated in my head, I’ve actually
got no idea what he is planning to talk to me about. It could be any number of
things. I cautiously walk in and find him asleep. I quietly set down the drinks
on the nearest bedside table and take the time to drink him in instead.

My God, he is stunning. His dark eyelashes,
protruding from his puffy eyes, lie meticulously fanned out on his face. His
lips look so soft and kissable, even with the cut on the outside of one corner.
I notice his sexy stubble, which stands out because he always favours having a
clean shaven face. I tried to convince him to leave it for a few days but he
wouldn’t. I can almost feel it grazing the soft skin of my inner thighs.
Yes
.

I’ve spent years going without sex for weeks at
a time. I’m talking sexual deprivation. That almost seems impossible now. This
man has me literally aching for sex. It’s as though he has fine-tuned my body
to respond to him and only him. In fact, it’s not only sex. I ache for any
physical contact from him. Like his kisses—those kisses. He has a whole catalogue
of customised kisses just for me, which cater to the needs of any mood.

Or when he delicately strokes my cheek with his
strong hands and the way he unconsciously runs his thumb over my knuckles. He
creates this unquestionable longing inside of me and the fact that he’s lying
in front of me asleep, proves that it’s not his eyes, his voice or his words
that trigger it. It’s simply him, everything about him. He doesn’t need to
seduce me—as enjoyable as that is—his beautiful soul involuntarily does that
all by itself.

It’s not a choice, it’s not a decision. It’s
simply the consequence of coexisting with him. A consequence of having our
paths cross, is that now I’m not able to picture myself travelling down any
other path, unless he is walking right there alongside with me.

I notice he’s on the left side of his bed when he
always sleeps on the right… He’s on my side.

The bruising on his face has really come out
now. His lip has scabbed over nicely and the cut on his eyebrow looks sound. He
is topless, letting me admire his broad boulder shoulders in the flesh. It’s
warm in here so the overhead fan’s still whirring away. The white covers are
pulled up under his armpits. I glance down to his ribcage and visualise where
the knife was.

Suddenly struggling to swallow the dry imaginary
lump in my throat, I take a sip of my coffee. Every part of me is lusting to
reconnect with him, to selfishly take away this hollow emptiness, echoing
inside of me. I want to reach out to him. He’s breathing so peacefully.

How have I got myself into this situation? From
the simple life—to this.

I set down my cup, trying to distract myself
from the urge to slide on the bed beside him and breathe him in. I want to
steal away a secret moment to myself.

Fuck It. I can’t resist him.

I slip my pumps off and quietly slink on top of
the covers to lie alongside him, propping my head up on my elbow. It’s strange
being on his right-side. Jesus he smells good. He epitomises what I find
irresistible. Or maybe I just find whatever it is that he epitomises
irresistible. What came first, the chicken or the egg?

I place my right hand on top of his and feel
the smooth warmth of his skin. These hands, these wonderful hands. I’ve
witnessed them protect me, dealing out a ferocious punch. I’ve also been on the
receiving end of his gentle, caring, protective embraces too. Or when he
strokes spine-tingling circles on the small of my back... Beyond lush.

Whilst studying his hands, Jax stretches a
little and spreads his fingers so that mine instinctively interlink. But he
closes his hand into a fist, trapping my fingers loosely within his. That’s
when I realise, without lifting my eyes to his face, that he’s woken up. His
bare shoulder is right next to me so I lean forward an inch and kiss him there.
He tightens his fist, causing me to look up at him.

We silently stare into each other’s eyes, suddenly
caught up in such a powerful moment. So much so that after a minute, my eyes
well up with tears. He lets go of my hand to bring his thumb up, slowly wiping
the first fallen tears away. Of course that action just encourages more of a silent
down pour.

Holding the nape of my neck, he pulls me over
to meet the side of his face, with my lips at his ear.

After another minute, it has the desired effect
and I calm down, feeling closer to him emotionally as well as physically now. I
hold his bicep as he still cradles my head. Our reconnection pulls me under
quickly. He asked me here to ‘talk’ but all I want to do is touch.

The man is practically bedridden yet all I’m
thinking about is realistically how long will it be until penetration is back
on the cards? I’ve got a couple more days of my period left, surely by then…
Revisit
your priorities Bethany.
Miss Fierce is checking the calendar
.
Miss Sensible
is tapping her foot, clearly not impressed.

I reach across to the bedside table and grab a
soft tissue out of the handy box, bypassing the lukewarm coffees. I wipe my eyes
and blow my nose—attractive. I move to get myself more comfortable and clear my
throat.

Sitting on my knees facing him, I lean my face
over his until we’re inches away from each other.

“I’m so sorry… for leaving. I was scared and I
bolted. It was selfish of me when deep down all I really wanted to do was to
sit next to you, to lie next to you. I should’ve stayed. I’m sorry.”

Jax quietly absorbs my words.

“It’s okay… I was buzzing off the morphine for
a while and I’ve mostly been sleeping. I
was
disappointed that you’d
gone and when I found your note, it was confusing. It didn’t sound like you.
‘Sorry,
had to leave. Call me.’
The B I know would’ve filled that sheet with an
essay—double-sided. I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. Jack tells me you’re doing great
provided you rest—” He nods but cuts me off.

“What did Carmel say to you?”

“I don’t know if I should—”

“Unfiltered honesty Beth.”

Our agreement is to try not to think before we
speak. We’re comfortable enough and trust each other to speak the truth no
matter what. Except of course for the things we choose not to discuss with each
other. It’s okay to hold back as long as we don’t lie to one another. What
would my response be if he outright asked me how I feel about him?
No
comment.

“O-okay. She warned me to stay away, which doesn’t
seem to be working out for me right now.”

“What else?”

“Erm… She said I don’t know you, I don’t belong
here, I should get out of your life and that you don’t need a little girl
messing with your head. Oh and to make sure I forgot about everything I saw.”

Jax listens with a frown furrowing deeper in
his brow. He pauses before speaking.

“Carmel… she thinks she’s doing the right
thing. It’s nothing personal. She means well, she was trying to look out for
me.”

“Yeah, I sort of figured that one out for
myself. Maybe you’ll tell me why some day. But Jax, she’s not the reason I
left. I mean, she’s part of it but not because of what she said, it was my
reaction to seeing her with you. It was irrational and… uncalled for. It made
me feel uncomfortable because I have no hold over you. We’re just friends. I’m
not a bitter, bitchy person. I don’t want to be that girl.”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me B.
The whole night was fucked up. I didn’t expect Carmel to come with Jack
otherwise I would’ve forewarned you. She can be intense.”

“Who is she anyway? I mean, I take it you and
her are or have been… intimate?”

Props to bold Beth. Jax adjusts his position
with a grimace of pain.

“It’s… complicated. We have a history. I care
about her, but we’re not fucking each other. Even though she had my best
interests at heart, she had no right to speak to you like that and I promise it
won’t happen again. You’ve got nothing to worry about, I’ll deal with her.”

“So you’ve
never
slept with her?”

Please say he hasn’t… Please say he hasn’t…

“I didn’t say that.” That little piece of hope
vanishes. I bite my tongue long enough for him to fill the gap without me
having to probe further. “It was once, when we first met a few years ago. But
not since.”

“Okay… So is that what you wanted to talk to me
about, her?”

“Not just that. The main thing was to tell you
how grateful I am for what you did for me.” I shake my head wanting him to stop
talking. “Beth, listen to me, I’m sorry for putting you through all of that, it
was my fault.”

I’m not sure whether I can revisit the
specifics now, with Jax. Seeing his blood-stained face, the gut wrenching
feeling when I first saw the knife handle and it first dawned on me that he’d
been stabbed. Feeling his bloodied tee as I cut it away. Giving him that
injection. Tears knock on the doors once more but I fight them back. Jax goes
on.

“I will always regret that I put you in that
position. But, you were unbelievable and you’ll never know how much what you
did means to me.” I’m plaiting my fingers, looking down. “You listening, Angel?”

“Mm-huh.”

I gulp hard, still holding it together. Jax crooks
his finger under my chin, steering me to look at him. After a second he clears
his throat, which I feel represents the closing of that secret door to his raw emotions,
which he’d left ajar only briefly.

“Plus, I wanted to see if you were okay and clear
the air. We didn’t exactly leave it on particularly pleasant terms.”

The words
‘leave it’
snap me back from
emotional to panic.

“And what exactly does ‘
leave it’
mean?”

“Look, you know how it is with me and after
what I put you through Thursday night B, I expected you to cut me off
completely—”