Page 86 of Save Me

“I think,” he starts slowly, and I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, “you’re conflicted by how you actually feel and what you actually want, and what you think youshouldfeel and want.”

My eyes start to sting as he so accurately assesses me, and not for the first time I’m thankful for his ability to read me so well.

“I’m angry,” I whisper as my lip starts to tremble, worried that my words will push him away, but he doesn’t do anything except continue to hold me. “I am so fucking angry, and so exhausted of my life always being in a state of constant turmoil, and I’m so angry at myself for all the stupid choices I’ve made. But, most of all, I’m so fucking angry at all the men who think they can control me—who have tried to control me—and have left me to clean up the mess afterwards. I’m angry at my dad, I’m angry at Garrett, and I’m angry at Rhett and Tanner, and all their friends who did this to me.” I pause, realizing how loud myvoice has become, and how the tears have started to fall freely down my face. Jax wipes them away with a gentle brush of his thumbs, his eyes showing nothing but love.

I lean into his touch until the anger turns to something else.

“I’m sad, Jax,” I say quietly. “I’m really fucking sad, and scared.”

I take a shaky breath. “What does it say about me if I want someone dead? If I wish for harm to come to someone just because they did something bad to me? It makes me a hypocrite.”

“I think it makes you human to have these thoughts.” He takes a breath, his eyes searching mine.

“I don’t think anyone could go through what you did and feel content afterward. I think anger is probably a very rational and normal response.”

“What if it’s… more than anger?” I ask quietly. “What if every part of me not only wants them dead, but wants to be the one to kill them myself?”

He pauses for a moment, contemplating what I’ve said. “You’re not a killer. You are not bloodthirsty. And I love that about you. I love your softness. I love your joy. I admire your bravery. I am jealous of your compassion and willingness to forgive. I would hate to see your anger lead you down a path that you can’t come back from, a path that many people would never be able to forgive you for. However”—he looks at me, his eyes bright—“while I love all of that about you, the same can’t be said for myself. Because I am angry. I am beyond angry at what was done to you, what you have gone through. How you have known the touch of strange men and the sting of angry words, and while I can’t undo the past for you, I can make sure no one else suffers at their hands in the future. So today, I’m leading with anger, and I’m following a path I’ve already been on for a very long time.”

“I don’t want you to do this for me.” I sigh quietly. “I don’t want to add this to your plate, you’ve got enough to deal with, and you’ve already done enough for me.”

“There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for you.” He presses his lips against my skin as he pulls me in closer. “And trust me when I say I really, really want to do this,” he growls, and I see a glimpse into the darker parts of him, a place where no humanity lives, a place of pure darkness.

I place my hand on his cheek, leaning into him and pressing my lips against his. “I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done for me… for everything you’re willing to do for me,” I murmur as our lips brush.

“You deserve more than I could ever give you,” he whispers back.

CHAPTER 35

‡

The kitchen iswarm from the oven that has been on for the last couple of hours, as batches of muffins sit on the counter. It’s early in the afternoon, but I’m so exhausted that I feel like I’m ready for bed. After seeing the video, the talk with the guys, and Jax deciding he’s off to get revenge, I’m emotionally drained, but too full of nerves to rest. I stopped painting shortly after Jax left, my hands trembling too much to hold the brush still. I needed a break, needed some solace from the memories that haunt me and the anger that’s consuming me. So, here I am baking, ready to surprise the guys with some food when they get home. I look at the clock, unsure of exactly when they’ll be back; Jax’s estimate of two hours has already come and gone.

The timer goes off and I grab the oven mitt, carefully taking the muffin tray out of the oven. The smell of melted chocolate hits my nose immediately and my stomach rumbles in response. I don’t even wait for them to cool before I try to pry one out of the tray, part of it breaking in the process, but it doesn’t bother me, not when I’m going to eat it right away. I bite into the muffin, almost burning my tongue as I relish the taste.

I’m on my second bite when I feel a dull ache in my stomach. I wince as the discomfort settles in my body, but I keep baking until the cramps wrap around my hip bones and I’m practically doubled over, moving muffins from the baking trays onto cooling racks. I finish what I’m doing, finding somepainkillers in the cupboard before going to the bathroom where, sure enough, I realize I’ve gotten my period.

I try to remind myself of how happy I was when I got my period last month, evidence that I wasn’t pregnant after my time at the boathouse, something that despite the preventatives the doctor gave me and having always been told it would be unlikely for me to ever have children, I was still worried about. But I can’t summon the same relief and happiness that I felt then; right now, it just feels like a painful inconvenience I’d rather not have to deal with.

I grab the hot water bottle from under the bathroom sink, filling it quickly before retreating to bed, where I plan to spend the rest of the day in the fetal position watching movies.

*

Jax walks intothe room and my eyes dart to him immediately, eager for any clue as to how his day unfolded.

“I know exactly what you’re going to ask,” he says, and I smile at him as he prowls towards me. “And everything went off without a hitch. But I missed you the whole time I was gone,” he says, bending down to find my lips with his own.

I kiss him back, relishing in the constant—sometimes overwhelming—need I have for him. As our lips touch, I realize that just like he has embraced the darker parts of me, I find myself embracing the darkness within him and what he’s willing to do to keep me safe.

He takes a step back but only to undress, and I watch his every movement as his clothes come off. Tight muscles, tattoos everywhere, and green eyes filled with desire meet my stare, except, there’s also a bandage on his chest.

I bolt upright, nervous energy coursing through me as I reach for him.

“What happened, did they hurt you?” I stammer.

He shakes his head with a smile. “No, love, they didn’t,” he says as he climbs into bed beside me, and I make room for him in my cocoon of warmth. His hands reach for me, their touch gentle against my skin, and I lean into him.

“If you’re not hurt then why do you have a bandage on your—” My words stop as his lips meet mine, and I melt underneath his tongue as it claims my mouth.

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