Page 31 of Chasing the Flame
I practically throw myself off the couch, bolting toward the kitchen. Grabbing another tumbler, I quickly fill it with ice and water, thankful I’m already wearing athletic gear. All that’s left is to grab my phone and throw my shoes on. Once finished, I snatch my keys off the table in the foyer, heading out the front door.
I need to clear my head, and the only way to do that is to get out of this fucking house.
In my time walking, I’ve learned how to meditate. I reflect on my emotions and thoughts to understand why I’m feeling a certain way. I’m terrible at it, but I’m trying, and that counts for something.
So, while I walk down the long driveway, I reflect on everything that’s happened. But this time, the thoughts will not go away, no matter how hard I try to release them.
They’re stuck on a loop, running around in my head until I’m gasping for breath. The panic attack crashes through me, pummeling my body with a wave of terror.
I trip, tumbling to the ground, my keys and phone colliding with the asphalt. The pain doesn’t register. All I can focus on is the increasingly painful need tobreathe. I’m so engrossed in trying to control mybreathing that I miss the squeal of tires and the voice that carries panic in the wind. Sandalwood, sawdust, pine, and a hint of whiskey fill my senses, capturing my attention wholly. Jettson’s crystalline eyes catch the sunlight, my blurry, tear-filled eyes struggling to bring his features fully into focus.
“Averie!” His voice cuts through the haze, and I go still, my lungs expanding for the first time in several minutes. I blink several times, relief flooding through me when my vision finally clears and Jettson’s concerned gaze catches my attention.
As air fills my lungs, my head slowly clears. The fog lifts and recedes like the shadows chasing the sky as the sunrise crests the horizon. “Shit. This is fucking embarrassing,” I say, snorting at the whole ordeal.
For a moment, Jettson just stares. His eyes are wide, mouth hanging open, with a bewildered expression etched on his face. Then, the dam bursts. “For fucks sake!” He swears. “Are you okay? You scared the living daylights out of me.”
I bite my bottom lip, clenching my teeth together to no avail. The laugh I’m poorly trying to hold in bubbles up, and I cackle. In seconds, it turns into full-blown hysteria, tears leaking down my cheeks as I gasp for air. Jettson eyes me warily the whole time, which only makes the situation funnier for some reason. “I’m…okay.” I finally manage, clamping my teeth together to stop the next barrage of insane giggles. “I’m s—sorry…”
Jettson runs a hand down his face, shaking his head several times before extending a hand and helping me up. I’m still chuckling softly as I reach my feet, trying to awkwardly shake it off. “Thank you,” I say softly, the words barely above a whisper. “I took a tumble. Landed on my ass and you just happened to catch the tail end of it—no pun intended.”
He doesn’t say anything for a beat, giving me a guarded look. Sighing, he shakes his head again, releasing my hand. Jettson bends down, scooping up my phone and keys before handing the items back to me. “Just glad you’re alright, though I still feel like there’s more than you’re telling me.”
Sucking in a breath, I avert my gaze, hiding the crimson staining my neck and cheeks. “I could say the same thing about you,” I grumble, suddenly feeling exasperated by the turn of events. Turning on my heel, I stalk back up the driveway, muttering as I go. A string of deep curses fills the air, followed by the sound of boots striking the pavement.
I look over my shoulder, not realizing Jettson had closed the distance between us, only to run into a wall of strength. “Oof!” I squeak, bouncing back only to be pulled straight back in.
Strong hands grip my waist, and my hands instinctively land on his chest. A deep rumble vibrates underneath my fingertips, sending a wave of desire straight through me. “Hop in the truck. No sense walking the three miles back up the road when we’re going to the same place.”
He doesn’t give me a second to answer, instead lacing his fingers through mine and pulling me toward his truck. He gently squeezes my hand as he opens the passenger door before helping me inside. Tears prick at the back of my eyes at the sweet gesture, and I keep my gaze glued on the window as Jettson gets back behind the wheel. Nosey bastard doesn’t miss a beat, it’s like he has a radar for mood changes.
“Wanna talk about it? We have a couple of miles thanks to your pretentious driveway.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, his eyes glinting in a way that can only be described as devious.
Little shit.
I sigh, tossing a glare in his direction that doesn’t hold any real heat. “I get panic attacks sometimes.” My chest loosens at the admission, and the understanding is laid bare in Jettson’s eyes.
He pulls his gaze away from me and glues his eyes back on the road, his voice steady when he says, “I get that. Can even relate a bit, if I’m being honest.” He shifts slightly in his seat before leaving his left hand on the wheel, his right moving to squeeze my knee. “You don’t have to hide from me, Averie.”
Heat pools in my stomach, and I clench my thighs together, squeezing tightly. Of course, Jettson tracks the movement, his eyes blazing with something close to need. His grip tightens a little on my thigh, and I have thisinsanedesire to tell him to pull over, and fuck me in this damn truck. See? Insane.
I suck in a breath, worrying my lower lip and shift my gaze to the window, trying to focus on the horizon.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, fully aware of the blush creeping across my face. The pressure on my thigh dissipates, but his hand never leaves the spot. It’s oddly comforting and simultaneously confusing.
The closer we draw to the house, thoughts of Jettson consume me. I’m imagining all sorts of wicked things, the slickness from my arousal dripping down my legs. I shift uncomfortably, picturing Jettson’s hands on me… his cock inside me and his tongue lavishing my clit. This is ridiculous. Am I really that starved for attention?
My cheeks are on fire, but I sneak a glance at him anyway. He catches me staring and smirks—like he knows. Like he feels the heat curling in the air between us. His fingers trail a little higher up my leg, and my breath catches in my throat.
All too soon, the house comes into view, breaking whatever spell was holding us captive. When he comes to a stop, I jump out of the truck and rush inside, needing to put some distance between us beforeI do something reckless. His laughter rings behind me, and I suddenly have the urge to turn around and throw my keys at him.
I refrain, tossing my phone and keys on the table in the foyer, walking to the living room, and sprawling out on the couch. For good measure, I toss a blanket over my legs, figuring if I’m going to get answers, I can at least be comfortable. Jettson’s boots thud against the hardwood floors, and I call out, “In here!”
He peeks around the corner before entering the room, sitting across from me in the leather recliner. There’s a devilish glint in his eye, and I speak before he can say something we’ll both regret. “Well, what was so important that you rushed out of here without explaining all of...that?” I say, waving an arm around in the air above my head, pointing to the room on the second floor as I lower my voice to a whisper. “You know…thecrazinesswe found?!”
“Cutting straight to the point, I see,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Uhm—yeah? I’ll take answers about the creepy altar for five hundred, Alex.”
