Fighter(11)

Trying to stall for time to put that cement wall back in place, I glanced around again. “Can we go somewhere else?”

“Like where? Your brothers know me. I’m sure they have every place staked out.”

Yeah. His places. I cursed under my breath. I should’ve thought of it sooner.

“What?”

“They’re looking at your places. Not mine.”

“Meaning?” Then the corners of his mouth dipped. “No way. I’m not shacking at Haley’s. I’ve been there. No offense to your girl, but there’s too much pink and lace. I need to be able to fight, Doily. My manliness will be sucked dry if I set foot in her doorway.”

“No.” My brother would be staking out that place, but in a whole other way. “My family’s cabin. It’s nice. It’s not seasonal, so they won’t even think of it being used. But its warm enough outside that we won’t freeze.” And it was clean. That was the more important factor. No allergies to clog up my lungs. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” But he was thinking about it. I could see that, and his eyes flicked over the place. He lifted a hand and scratched behind his ear. “I don’t even want to know what boyfriend of Lady G’s this place belongs to anyways.”

Hope surged up my throat. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He gave me a grin and stood in front of me. Bending down, he patted his back. “Hop on, Doily. Let’s get out of here. It’s giving me the creeps too.”

I slid down, my good leg wrapping around his waist. He reached back and kept a secure hold under my injured leg, then moved outside and deposited me in his truck. Disappearing back inside, he was gone for a moment. Then he came back with a case of beer in one hand and his bag in the other.

He handed over his phone.

I asked, “What’s this?”

“I just realized your brothers might think I’ve kidnapped you. I’d be in worse trouble then. Can you call them? Let them know this isn’t that type of thing.”

I lifted the phone and dialed my oldest brother Dean’s number. I knew he’d scream and blame me somehow, but Jax was right. He didn’t need another warrant, one that would ensure him some prison time.

“Dale?”

I let out a silent sigh, getting ready. My brother sounded pissed.

“Hey, um, you’re not going to like this,” I told him, “but I’m going to stay and talk Jaxon into going to jail…”

“Bullshit. Are you in bed with him already?” Dean argued. Then he was quiet for a moment. I could hear him breathing. “So you’re saying you’re going to help him?”

Well, the whole idea of not letting him know the plan had gone south. Not wanting Dean to think that I was a floozy (even though my loins cried at the injustice of being accused and not actually being in Jax’s bed), I said without thinking, “I am not sleeping with him! I’m just helping.” And immediately after, chaos ensued.

Dean started shouting. I shouted back. Curse words were thrown, along with a few threats, and eventually Dean delivered an ultimatum: “Tell us where you are right now or you’re cut out of the holiday party,” he said, sealing the deal for me.

Oh, hell no, my brother.

I’d been leaning against the truck’s passenger door, but I jerked upright after that. Without pausing, I snapped back, “I may not like the holidays, but kicking me out of the family party isn’t your call, Dean. But fine. Fuck it. See if I want to come anyway.” I set my jaw and reared back, ready to throw the phone into the dashboard, but Jax swooped over. I flung it in the air and his hand snatched it, just a few inches from mine.

My eyes went wide at his quickness, and I crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to pout. My brother was going to kick me out of the party—but damn, Jax’s swiftness was seriously hot. I shot him a look. “I hope you know what you just cost me.”

He smirked, his eyes sparking. “Your family’s parties are always the same: Booze. People getting drunk. Boxing on the television, and everyone threatening to take out their Taser guns. You hate your family parties.”

Shit. He was right. Still, it should be my decision whether or not to go. I leaned back against the truck. “I stir at the stove—that’s my job—and I drink. Dylan always bitches, but he brings me a new beer every time he sees I’m out. And I stand there because I can listen to all of the conversations at once.”

“You miss your family, huh?” Jax’s voice softened.

I closed my eyes against that tone from him. Shit, shit, shit. It was enough to make my toes curl and little tingles shoot through me. The cement wall was crumbling again.

I looked over at him. “Because of the party? No. I’m being stupid. You’re right. I usually hate them.” The fighting. The loud voices. The bickering…which led to wrestling which led to laughter about how the wrestlers both sucked, and then the night would end around a bonfire. Stories being told. More laughter.

All of it was pure chaos, but Jax was right. I had missed my family—since we broke up. I sighed. I’d ended things and left two weeks later. I hadn’t been back since.

Feeling my tongue swell at more of my stupidity, I waited to see if he would bring it up.

There was a moment of silence, and when he spoke, his voice sounded odd. “If we’re going to devise a plan for how to get around your brothers tomorrow, we should get going. Your cabin is another twenty-minute ride, and I think we both could use some sleep.”