Fighting Ever After (Ever After #3) (34 page)

 “What’s
going through your head right now?” I asked, avoiding her eyes not wanting to
see that judgment in them anymore.

“You don’t
want to know,” she answered softly.

“Yes I do. I
need to know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m
thinking about how much I want to run that woman over with my car, how much I
want to scream at your mother for not knowing what was going on. I feel
sickened just imagining her touching you.” I winced. It sounded so . . . so . .
. sick and too much like some story you might hear on the news. “But mostly I’m
just sorry, so sorry that it happened to you.” Again she was making me sound
like the victim of some crime and I hated that more than anything.

“Don’t!
Don’t
fucking do that. I’m not a damn victim and I don’t
want your pity.”

“Believe me,
I know about not wanting people’s pity. That’s not what this is. I can’t help
but hurt for you. No matter what you think, this was something that was done to
you. She took advantage of a kid-”

Fuck, I
just needed her to stop talking.

I sprang to
my feet, rounding on her. “Nothing was done to me. I wasn’t fucking raped or
molested. I knew what we were doing and I sure as hell didn’t say no, but I
definitely enjoyed it.” It was her turn to wince and I knew I shouldn’t have
said that, because even I could see all the wrongness behind what Elaina had
done, but I wasn’t a victim and I wasn’t going to let her turn me into one just
to make this easier for her to face, so she could have some excuse to forgive
me every time I was an asshole, or so she could make it her mission to fix me
or save me, or love me. God, that right there . . . I couldn’t handle that. I
didn’t want her to feel obligated to love me just because no one else ever had.
She’d already said it, but she hadn’t really known me then. It was a fucking
catch-22. She couldn’t really love me without knowing the darkest, ugliest
parts of me, all my secrets and where I came from, but now that she knew, I
couldn’t let her love me because I would always wonder if it was tainted with
pity and her fucking need to always do the right thing, to do good and take
care of everyone else.

I exhaled in
frustration. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about it. Things were good, but
I knew the second you found out, everything between us would change. You’re just
like them. My mother, Elaina, the bitches I’ve screwed.” She was nothing like
them, but I was so damn mad at her and the fucking world.

 “How
can you say that?” she asked hoarsely.

“You all want something from me. You want to
take. The only difference is you want to take my fucking heart and soul. Well,
it’s too fucking much. You can’t have them, because I’m too fucked up. You say
you love me, but you can’t, and I don’t want you to. I won’t just hurt you,
I’ll destroy you. I’m just like her.”
I turned around and moved to the other side of
the room forcing myself not to punch the wall. It was supposed to feel good to
get this all out. It was supposed to help me move past this, but it didn’t feel
good. None of it did. My fucking chest was being ripped open and I was bleeding
out all over the floor in front of Jax.

I needed it
to stop. I needed this feeling to go away. I couldn’t stand the way her eyes
saw right into me. I was tired of being responsible for the hurt on her face. I
was tired of wishing I could be the man she wanted me to be. A man she could
really love.

Fucking
damn it!

There was no
hope of that now, not that there ever really had been. I fucking loved her so
much, but I was killing both of us. I had to put a stop to it. Two weeks and
then I would be gone and she would be free of me. I hated it, but I didn’t see
another choice. I braced my hands against the frame of the door, resting my
head against the top of it. My hand was itching just to grab the door knob and
get the hell out of that room, but I couldn’t do that to her again.

“I’m sorry. I think we both need to take some
more time and space to figure out where we want to go from here.”
It was an excuse, one she
could probably see right through. I hoped it would hurt her less, but I think we
both knew it was over. We were over. I’d just ended us for good, and it hurt
more than anything Elaina or my mother had ever done to me.

Maybe I
could have said or done something differently. Maybe I was just a coward
exactly like
Jax’s
dad. Maybe it had always just been
inevitable.

“We’ve got
to be in the studio in an hour,” Ace spoke hesitantly, looking me up and down
when I walked through the front door for the first time in almost a week. I’d
shown up for our studio sessions and meetings when I was supposed to, but other
than that, I’d still been staying with Mick and avoiding everything else since
talking to Jax.

“I know,” I
responded brushing right past him.

“You need a
shower. And a shave,” he called after me.

“I know.” I
pushed open the door to my room, ducking inside and then stopping suddenly, my
feet rooted to the ground. Everything was still here. Her bright green Chuck
Taylors discarded at the foot of the bed. Her book opened on the nightstand.
Her clothes hanging out of my hamper.
Her hairbrush and
jewelry on my dresser, and I knew if I opened the top drawer or my closet
doors, I would find more proof of how her presence had worked its way into my
life. Now everything left behind was just a reminder of her absence.

“So I guess
you guys didn’t work it out.” Ace came up behind me.

“I’ll be
ready to go in twenty minutes.” He took the hint and backed out of my room,
closing the door behind him. I quickly grabbed a change of clothes and got the
hell out of there.

 Through
the weekend I spent as little time in there as possible. I didn’t know what to
do with her stuff. As much as I hated that it made it seem like she would be
coming back when I knew she wasn’t, I couldn’t bring myself to toss it all in a
box.
A stupid, fucking break-up box.
So I left her
things untouched and after a while it got easier to see it every day. I still
had a piece of her, even if it was just her stuff.

I even sunk
so low that on Wednesday night, after I lay in bed for an hour unable to sleep,
I picked up her book and started reading it. It was about a girl who moves to a
small West Virginia town with her mom and the neighbors turn out to be aliens.
It was actually pretty funny and interesting until I realized how much the girl
in the story reminded me of Jax – all feisty and full of fire, but really so
damn ridiculous that it was kind of adorable.

I remembered
the Sunday afternoon she spent all day with her nose buried in this book, and
even though it made me think of her, I couldn’t put it down. I stayed up all
night reading – first time I’d ever done that – only to find out that the book
was just the first in a series that left you hanging.

The rest of
the week consisted of more studio time and sleepless nights. After having her
next to me, it was hard to go back to sleeping in my bed alone. Her pillow
still smelled like her shampoo. Wasn’t that shit supposed to go away after
almost two weeks? Why was her scent still lingering, taunting and torturing me?

The only
thing these feelings –
  regret
, anger,
frustration, longing, misery, really I could go on and on – were good for was
new material. For the second time in my life, I wrote a “break-up song”. 
This one was so much more than the angry words of a naïve teenager. The label
loved it and was pushing us to have it ready to record. I guess people just eat
up that heartbreak shit.

We were down
to less than a week before tour kick off, and the guys decided it was time to
really celebrate all we had achieved and were accomplishing with our music.
Friday night was party night and then Tuesday would be goodbye Boston for a
while.

I think
everyone we knew showed up on Friday night. I wasn’t sure how so many people could
fit in our house, but they spilled out onto the back deck and in the back yard,
sitting around the fire pit. Everywhere I turned someone was high fiving or
patting me on the shoulder with a congratulations. Some were even asking for
autographs for when we made it big. It was everything a send off should be and
I was the only one not having a good time. The one face I kept looking for was
the one that was still missing. Chris said she was coming, but maybe she’d
changed her mind.

I don’t know
why I wanted to see her. I knew it was going to hurt, but I just . . . I just
missed her. I wanted to see for myself that she was okay. Every time I asked
one of the guys, I usually got a “fuck off” look, and occasionally an actual
“fuck off” from them. I wasn’t anybody’s favorite person right now. I didn’t
even like myself much at the moment.

I slid my
phone from my pocket. At this point I was actually considering texting her, but
what the hell could I say to her?

Hey,
what’s up, are you coming tonight because I’ve been going out of my mind all
week thinking about you and missing you so much that I’m even reading your
girly books and sniffing your pillow to remind me what you smell like, even
though it’s all my fault that you’re not here?

No, I don’t
think so.

Instead of
sending a desperate, pathetic text, I just checked the time. It was after ten.
She wasn’t coming and I’d had enough of this party. I heard a drunken Chris
shouting in the kitchen. “You guys ready for a tour?” People hollered back and
then he was yelling again. “We’re taking the east coast, and then it will be
the world!” Everyone cheered and hollered some more. I wasn’t in the mood to
spend even another hour celebrating when I didn’t feel like I had a whole lot
to celebrate or be proud of.

My intention
was to just shut myself in my room and throw on a pair of headphones to block
out the noise and try to get some work done, but a minute after I’d flopped
down on my bed and grabbed my lyric book, I heard the door to my room close. I
hadn’t even heard anyone come in behind me. I knew I should have locked it. I
looked up and was surprised to see Jaxyn standing in my doorway. God, she was
always so beautiful. It hurt to look at her and know all that wasn’t
mine
anymore, that it really hadn’t ever been. I almost
wished she was a mess, that there was some sign that she’d been having as hard
of a time as I had with her gone. I knew from the reflection I’d seen in the
mirror earlier that saying I looked like hell would be putting it nicely.

 “So a
tour . . . Did you know this was going to happen before we talked?” She didn’t
bother with any
hello, how are
you’s
.

I released a
deep breath,
“Yeah. They were pretty up front from the
beginning about what they wanted to happen. The tour was finalized the day . .
. that Monday.”
I saw understanding flash across her face.

“So you’ve known all along you might
be leaving, even before
we
. . .” I nodded. “And when
you said we should take some time to figure out what we wanted, you already
knew you were going to be gone. How long exactly are we
taking
to figure it out? One month?
Three?
How long will you
guys be gone?”

“Two months
on the east coast, another two if they want to keep us on for the west
coast,
and another one if we go overseas with them, but who
knows what will happen.” It was more than likely that we’d be on for the whole
length of it.

“If things hadn’t happened the way they did,
what would you have done about us?”
She asked solemnly.

“I was going
to ask you to go with me.” I didn’t think before I said it. It just came out,
and I realized it was true. If things hadn’t gone down the way they did, I
would have asked her. My reservations about it that day came from panic and
fear, but I knew I would have pushed them all aside rather than lose her
because of them.

How is it
any different than what you’re doing now?

I ignored
that inner voice, it wasn’t the first time I’d had this conversation with
myself. Maybe there was still one last chance to salvage this. If she was here,
not just here at the party, but here in my room, maybe it meant she didn’t
think it was over either. “You could still come,” I suggested casually.
“We could try to work this out. Maybe with time, I could . . . I
don’t know, but we could try.”
I couldn’t meet her eyes when I said it. I wasn’t sure if I
could handle seeing her reaction if it wasn’t what I was hoping for. Once again
hope proved to be a bitch, but I already knew that.

 “I
think we’ve both already figured out everything we need to,” she replied
flatly. “No point in dragging it out across the country when that’s not what
either of us really wants. It would only hurt more later on. It’s best if we
both just move past this.”

All I could
do was nod. Her mind was clearly made up and I doubted I could have changed it
even if I tried. She was stronger than me. The time apart had probably helped
her to see all the reasons why she was better off without me. All it had shown
me was that I should have fought harder to hang on to her. I gave up too
easily. I looked for reasons and excuses, so of course I found them.

 “You’re
probably right.” I tried to smile, but I knew it was off. I couldn’t even fake
it when I knew this was really it. “I want you to know that I don’t regret you,
and I’m sorry this is how it ended Jaxyn.” She wasn’t my Princess anymore. It
would have felt too wrong to say it now. What I’d said wasn’t exactly true
either, I did have regrets, but I needed her to understand that she would never
be one of them. Only that I figured things out too late. What I realized now,
staring down what might be our last real moment together, was that my fear of
losing Jax is what cost me her. I’d made my fear bigger than my love, bigger
than everything and even as I’d watched myself do it, I hadn’t been able to
stop myself. Fear isn’t truth. It isn’t about what’s happening, or even what’s
going to happen. It’s a choice you make. A choice you make about what matters
the most to you, and I made the wrong one. I chose this and now I had to figure
out how to live with it.

I moved
toward her, needing this one more time, and I pulled her into my arms. Every
piece of me knew that was where she belonged, and letting her go with just a
kiss on the forehead was like giving up a part of myself, letting it be ripped
away and doing nothing to stop it. She left that room and she took the best
parts of me with her – all the things she’d started bringing out in me. What
was left behind was the same guy I’d been before the night our lives collided.
The thing is
though,
you can’t ever really go back.
Once you’ve loved someone you can’t just forget what that’s like. You can live
your whole life in the dark, ignorant, but once you’re exposed to that first
ray of light, suddenly you’re aware of the darkness. Jaxyn wasn’t just a ray of
light; she burned brighter than the whole damn sun.

Not even the
brightest stage lights could take the place of the sun. I would know. That next
week I got my first taste of what it meant to be a
rockstar.
I stood on
some of the biggest stages in the country, under the brightest, hottest lights
and they were still dim in comparison. It was incredible and terrifying being
up there in front of thousands of people – tens of thousands of people – most
of them never having heard of you, and slowly winning them over, until by the
end of the show they were screaming your name. The first few shows were like
that.

That Tuesday
following the party we’d loaded up our van, which was really only symbolic,
because we only drove it a few miles to the tour bus we’d actually be living on
and off of, and that was it. Jax was there to say goodbye again, not to me, she
could hardly look at me. I don’t know if that made it more difficult or less.
Actually having to say it – the word
goodbye
– I’m not sure I could
have. I watched her though, and she wasn’t having an easy time of us all
leaving. Even if they weren’t for me or because of me, I didn’t like seeing her
tears. I was the first to climb into the van.

North
Carolina was our first stop on the tour – the night that truly showed us how
much things had changed since the very first show we’d played in some tiny bar
in Boston that had closed down not too long after. None of us were willing to
admit how nervous we were walking out onto that stage. It hadn’t mattered that
we’d rehearsed and gone through the whole show just hours before. When it was
for real, when almost every seat in the house was filled with someone who had
paid a lot of money and was expecting one hell of a show, and we had to live up
to the names we were opening for . . . well that was a lot of pressure and we
all felt it.

We hadn’t
been perfect that night, but we’d been good. Damn good, and we knew that when
those people went home, they would remember our name and it only got better
from there.

Charleston,
West Virginia.

Tampa,
Florida.

Atlanta,
Georgia.

Nashville,
Tennessee.

Every night
was better than the last. Our nerves lessened each time we took the stage, and
as we grew more comfortable and confident, we found our rhythm so to speak, and
pretty soon we were flawless. We were killing it each night. Our names were
being talked about all over every music board and gossip sight out there, but
even better was the way our name was being screamed by the fans by the end of
each performance. That was a good feeling. In fact, there was no feeling like
it . . . but one, and without that, it all just felt . . . emptier than it
should have.