Falling Away
Page 70

Was it so bad that I wanted him safe? I didn’t know the details of what he did with computers, but I knew it wasn’t on the up-and-up. And I definitely wanted inside his head. But now his exterior was harder than ever, and he was pulling away from me.
K.C. would get upset. She was weak, and she would cry. Juliet would hold her fucking tears in front of assholes.
My body swayed to the left, and I grabbed the door handle as he barreled into Tate’s driveway.
Looking over at him, I watched as he yanked up the parking brake and turned off the ignition.
He sat there, and after a few moments of refusing to look at me, I was ready to scream.
“Jax,” I started, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I—”
“It’s fine, Juliet,” he shot out, his tone flat. “It was a mistake. You want ‘better’? Go find ‘better.’ ”
“What?” I asked, shocked. “Jax, I didn’t mean—”
I stopped, seeing his fist tighten around the steering wheel so hard that I could hear the leather twisting.
What the hell was wrong with him? I never meant that he wasn’t good enough.
But right now cool and calm Jaxon Trent was pissed, and he was barely tolerating me.
He opened the car door to get out, but I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Don’t bother,” I said, before he had a chance to throw me out of the car. “I can open my own door.”
I stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut.
I looked up, seeing a light was on in the downstairs of Tate’s house, but I didn’t remember leaving one on. I was about to turn around and say good-bye, hoping maybe I would see the Jax who had spoken to me on the bleachers before, but I decided not to. Without turning back, I started for the house.
“Juliet?” Jax called, and I stopped in the middle of the walkway up to the porch.
Turning around, I crossed my arms over my chest to keep from shivering.
He’d stepped out of the car, leaned over the hood, and studied me. He opened his mouth, looking as though he wanted to say something but then just closed it, steeling his jaw again.
I waited for a second longer than I should’ve, wishing he’d say the things he said to me in his car last week. Or in his office last night. Or the fun house today.
Tears pooled before I could stop them, and I turned around, walking as calmly as I could for the front door. Unlocking it, I slipped in and slammed it shut, sliding down to the floor.
“Hey, you,” I heard a familiar voice chirp.
My stomach lurched into my throat as if I were falling, and I looked up to see Tate standing between the dining room and foyer, holding a can of Coke in her hand with her little dog, Madman, hovering between her legs.
The tears instantly spilled over. “Tate?” I choked out.
Pushing off the floor, I launched myself at her, wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her neck.
It was too late. The sobs couldn’t be stopped. I clutched her T-shirt, probably digging my nails into her skin, too, as my body shook with relief.
“Hey, hey,” she soothed. “What the hell happened?”
But I couldn’t speak. The shakes, the relief, the loss of the loneliness—everything overtook me, and I held her tight for a long time, thankful that she didn’t ask again.
I sat on the edge of Tate’s bed, curling my toes into her rug and letting the morning chill cover my arms as I stared into the distance out her French doors.
Tate had opted to let me keep her room and sleep in her father’s room, and from the lack of sound, I gathered she was still sleeping. It was early, after all.
I had spent all of yesterday curled up in my pj’s in the chair by the window reading through my journals, and trying not to look outside every time I heard a thunderous engine roar down the street.
Jax hadn’t been home, and since I hadn’t left the house, I hadn’t seen him or asked Tate about him. She had seen him drop me off, and she knew I was upset.
There was no doubt she’d pieced it all together, but she didn’t push. I just wanted to be left alone.
My body felt as if I’d just done a BodyPump class after a five-year hiatus. My muscles were sore, and I ached between my legs. Even today, I could still feel where Jax had been.
With Liam I hadn’t felt any of that. Not in my body or in my heart.
I’d given my virginity to him when I was fifteen, because I needed to get rid of it. My mother tortured me to protect it by having our family doctor come every month to look for signs of sexual activity.
So to make the visits stop, I rushed to have sex. I let Liam have me not long after we started dating, and I suffered the repercussions. I was put on the pill, and in the end she let me keep seeing Liam, because if I was sleeping with him, then I wasn’t “spreading myself around.” That was how much she thought of me.
But the truth was, I barely connected with Liam. I tried to keep him happy, because I had wanted someone to love me, but every time we were together, something was missing. I knew it, and so did he.
Everything I struggled to hang on to, whether it was love or perfection, ended up failing me in the end. It was an impossible expectation that weighted me down.
And now I didn’t have Liam. I didn’t have family. I didn’t have anyone putting expectations on me, and somehow I was lighter.
Whereas the fear of mistakes had weighted me to the earth, falling away from listening to everyone else had me floating. It was addicting.
Liam didn’t want me. My mother didn’t want me. Jax didn’t want me.