Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(83)

“Mona talked about it every once in a while and Clyde filled in what she didn’t go into,” he continued in that low, patient voice. “I know how it happened.”

My heart started pounding in my chest, and when I spoke, my voice was hoarse. “I don’t want to do this.”

“I know.” Jax scooted closer somehow, his pelvis above mine, but his weight was supported by his legs. He was close, too close for this. “The bar was a hit in town. Always busy. Making a ton of money. Your parents decided to build their dream home.”

I looked away from his brown eyes, my free hand digging into the comforter. “I don’t want to do this,” I repeated in a whisper.

He lowered his head, pressing a quick kiss against the center of my left cheek, and my breath hiccupped. “It was the kind of house your parents dreamed of raising a family in, enough room for all of you to grow, especially Kevin and Tommy.”

Oh God.

Cold air sliced through my chest, and I shook my head. “I can’t do this.”

Jax didn’t let up. “What your parents didn’t realize is that they’d hired an electrician who wasn’t on the up-and-up. Who cut corners on the job sites so he could pocket more money. His license was under investigation for a bang-up job on the previous house he worked on. What your parents didn’t know when they moved you all in and were happy and celebrating, was that the electrician hadn’t followed the installation codes on the dimmer switch in the hallway on the second floor—the floor with all the kids’ bedrooms.”

Dipping my chin, I squeezed my eyes shut. It was a bad idea because I could see that night clearly. To the day I died, I’d be able to see that night, to waking up with my brand-new room, with its pink walls and my name spelled out in block letters attached to the wall, filled with smoke. I’d never forget that the first big breath I dragged in had scorched the very inside of my throat and chest. Panic poured into me as I’d stumbled off the bed and saw the pink paint peeling from the walls, the terror when I opened the bathroom door and the entire world exploded. Smoke had turned yellow and brown—I remembered that—a moment before it all happened. Glass shards had been flung through the air, slicing into my skin. Flames were everywhere, seeming to crawl across the floor and lick over the ceilings and walls. It was like a giant flash. And there had been screams. Horrific screams that no horror movie could even really replicate and some of them had been mine. Some of them had been Kevin’s.

“It was so hot. The paint was blistering. There was no air and . . .” I drew in a shaky breath and I didn’t realize that I’d spoken out loud until his lips pressed against my temple again.

“I know you were lucky to survive,” he said, smoothing his thumbs along the sides of my waist. “Your dad got to you first and he brought you outside. And then he and your Mom tried to get back inside, upstairs again, but it was fully engulfed. They couldn’t get back up the stairs . . . it was too late for your brothers.”

I twisted again, but Jax held on. The ice in my chest was spreading, becoming a real, tangible pain. “Tommy never woke up.” I remembered hearing Mom say that once. That after an autopsy was performed, it showed that he’d died from smoke inhalation. A blessing in disguise, because by the time the fire was put out, his room was nothing but charred cinder and wood. “Kevin . . . he was awake.”

Again, with the quiet voice, “I know.”

I opened my eyes slowly and my lashes felt damp. “Their coffins,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes tight once more and seeing them. “They were so small. You know, smaller than you think they made coffins. And yet, I know they make them even smaller, but God . . . they were so small.”

His lips brushed under the corner of my right eye, and I knew—oh God, my chest hurt—I knew he’d caught a tear, and the iciness in my chest, invading my stomach and my soul, eased off a little bit.

“They never had a chance,” I said, dragging in another deep breath. “The fire started right outside their rooms, in the ceiling and walls. It spread so quickly.”

Jax remained quiet, and a few moments passed before I spoke again. “Our family was awarded a large sum of money once it was discovered that the fire . . . it was due to the faulty wiring. Dad put some in a college fund for me. That’s . . . that’s the money Mom had drained. And she had a lot of money—hundreds of thousands that she had to have blown through.” My fingers eased off the blanket. “Dad left not even a year later. He couldn’t deal.”

“Fucker,” muttered Jax.

My eyes opened wide and I started to defend my dad, but stopped myself. Yeah, he was kind of a f*cker. I’d accepted that long ago. The next breath I took was easier. “I’ve never talked to anyone about this. Not even my friends at home. It’s not like I haven’t . . . dealt with it, because I have. I was young when all of this happened and I still miss my brothers. It’s just so damn sad.”

“It is.”

Our gazes met, and I felt my heart turn over heavily in my chest. I knew he wasn’t done.

“I know this isn’t the only thing.” He lifted a hand and trailed a finger along the length of my scar. “I know you have other scars.”

I couldn’t look away. Damn if I didn’t want to, but his gaze held me, and his eyes were warm, they were focused.