Shatter Me (The Jaded Series, #1) (8 page)

Mia narrows her eyes at Mac and says, “There most definitely will be harm if you run her off, you asshat. But the harm won’t be on her part, it’ll be on yours. You get me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you, Mia. Cool your feathers, would ya. And get me another beer woman!” He says this after downing the last of his beer. My eyes become bigger and bigger and dart between the two while they stand there and bicker at each other.

Mia’s eyes become even smaller slits. I can tell that Mac really enjoys riling her up and is doing it on purpose. Mia props her hands on her tiny waist and cocks a hip.

“Listen here, dick-face, I may be small but believe me, I can come up with numerous ways to hurt you. Now, be a good little boy and ask nicely for your beer or get the hell out of my bar. And leave the waitresses alone.”

They glare at each other for several minutes. If looks could kill, they would both be six feet under by now. Without a doubt, there’s animosity between them.  I briefly wonder what happened between the two, but I quickly squish the thought. It would be hypocritical of me to want to know about their past when I’m not willing to give none of my own.

Eventually, it’s Mac that breaks the stare down. He takes his beer bottle and gently pushes it across the bar towards Mia and says, “I would be ever so grateful if you could get me another beer, Miss. Walker.”

Mia drops her hands and rolls her eyes. Huffing and mumbling, she extracts a bottle of beer from one of the mini fridges, pops the top, and not so gently places it in front of Mac. Foam starts to bubble over the top of the bottle. She picks up a rag and tosses it to Mac and says, “Clean it up yourself.” She then grabs my arm and drags me down to the other end of the bar.

“Sorry about that. Mac can be a jerk sometimes and it really pushes my buttons. Just ignore him from now on. If he needs anything, I’ll take care of it. ” She says while placing some bottles from a box on the floor onto the counter that’s in front of the mirror.

To help, I bend down to pick up a bottle from the box and say, “That’s okay, I know all about men being jerks.” Crap! I did not just say that!
Please, please don’t let her question my comment.

I look at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s looking at me with sad eyes and says quietly, “Yeah, I think you do.”

We continue unloading the few boxes in silence. It’s a comfortable silence. I really like Mia. She seems like a strong woman. A woman that would not take abuse from anyone. She looks like the type that would fight back and say “fuck you” in the face of evil. I wish for all I was worth that I had her backbone. She’s got attitude, but I can also see that she has a sweet side to her as well. It’s a combination that makes a perfect woman. I envy her. I’m weak and broken. What would it be like to be whole and courageous?

“Hey, ladies. Can I get three shots of Jack and three bottles of Yuengling, please?” We both turn to see a guy leaning on the bar. It’s one of the guys that was playing pool when I first walked in.

Mia looks at me and says, “You’re up.”

Although it’s been two years since my waitressing stint and working a bar, it comes back to me quickly. It’s like riding a bicycle for the first time after years of not riding one. I am wobbly at first but find my bearings pretty quickly.

Several more people come up and place their orders. In no time, I’m whipping up their drinks and handing them off. There are a couple times I have to ask Mia for the recipe for a particular drink. Whoever heard of a drink called Freddy Fudpucker or Bend Over Shirley? I actually cringe a little at the last.

More and more people come in and I start to relax. So much so that Mia and I actually share a few jokes. The customers are friendly for the most part. A couple guys try hitting on me, but Mia is beside me and stops it before it can even start. She gives them the evil eye and they back off immediately. It’s almost like she knows it could be my undoing.

The more relaxed I become, the more open and talkative she becomes. Yesterday consisted of her telling me what to do and me doing it. Very little talking needed or offered. Tonight, however, we both feel more comfortable with each other.

Just then, Jaxon comes out of the hallway and walks over to the counter. His spectacular eyes rake me from head to toe and I shrink a little. He must have noticed my shrinkage because his eyes snap to mine and they carry a small hint of displeasure. Still embarrassed at my breakdown from yesterday I look down at the glass I’m drying.

“My office now, Bailey.” He then turns and walks back towards the hallway, not looking to see if I’m following him.

I look over at Mia, who gives me encouraging eyes. It doesn’t help. What does he want? And can I handle being in his office alone with him? The last time I was alone with him didn’t go so well. A small trimmer runs through me. He’s my boss. I can’t openly disobey him. I have no choice but to see what he wants.

I slowly put down my rag and the glass I am drying. I lift the partition, step through it, and lower it back down gently. My palms are sweating and my heart is racing a mile a minute.

I walk down the hallway heading for his office feeling like I’m about to meet my doom. I know that I’m being ridiculously dramatic, but I can’t seem to help it. This man affects me in ways that both scare me senseless and excites me to no end. The excitement is what worries me the most. I’m used to being afraid of men and what they can do to a defenseless woman. What I’m not used to is the feeling of safety. That’s what Jaxon makes me feel. Safe. My gut tells me that he would never hurt me. I don’t trust it though. How can I feel that way when I don’t really know him? He’s still a complete stranger to me. Capable of anything.

His door is closed when I reach the end of the hall. I tentatively knock on the hardwood.

“Come in, Bailey.” I hear his reply through the thick wood.

I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and open the door and step through.

The room is of average size and consists of the ordinary items that an office would have. There are two filing cabinets, a bookshelf that houses a few books and knick-knack type items, and a small couch off to the right. There’s even a potted plant that sits on a small round table in the corner. In the middle of the room is an old, wood captain’s desk, complete with a desktop computer and lamp. Across from it are two dark navy blue chairs.

Sitting on the edge of the desk is Jaxon, arms crossed, watching me. Today he’s wearing a long sleeve black Henley shirt and his traditional worn jeans, no holes this time, and a pair of black motorcycle boots. Does this man ever wear anything besides black?
Apparently not
.

“Shut the door.” He says.

Oh, no no no
. Not likely. The last thing I want is to be closed up tight alone in a room with him. If he thought my freak out was bad yesterday, he hasn’t seen anything yet.

“I’d rather leave it open,” I mumble and shuffle my feet.

“Bailey, I’m not going to hurt you. Closing the door is just as much your benefit as it is mine. I’m sure you don’t want what I have to say to be overheard by anyone.” His voice is calm and quiet, like he’s afraid of spooking me.

“I’d prefer to leave it open. Please,” I whisper, looking down at my shoes. I really don’t want to look into his eyes. His eyes always tend to draw me in and I can’t look away. They really are the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Angel, look at me.”

I snap my head up at the endearment. No one has ever used an endearment towards me. ‘Pet’ was what Steven called me, but I wouldn’t consider it an endearment. It was fitting because I felt like a caged animal while I was with him. I hated it when he called me ‘Pet.’

The way Jaxon called me ‘Angel’ though is nice. Really nice. And, of course, I make the mistake of looking into his eyes. Those gorgeous and unique eyes. I’m utterly transfixed. Currently, they are watching me with an intensity that should scare me, but doesn’t. I’m too busy becoming lost in his gaze to feel anything other than wonder.

“What happened to you?” He asks me in a deep, rumbling voice.

His question knocks me back to reality. No way can I tell him the truth. I already know that I’m weak and I’m sure he suspects it, too. I don’t want to confirm it for him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter, looking away from him again.

“Eyes to me, Bailey,” Jaxon says.

I reluctantly pull my eyes back to him.

“Don’t give me this shit about nothing happening to you. I know something did. It’s written all over your face.” I suck in a sharp breath at his rude and hurtful comment. I can’t believe he went there.

He continues as if he’s read my thoughts, he says, “And no, I’m not talking about the scar you try so hard to hide.” He says, pointing at said scar. “I’m talking about the constant fear I see behind your eyes. You’re running from something and I want to know what it is.”

Well, too bad, buddy boy
, I say in my head. Out loud I say, “Please Jaxon, can’t you just leave it alone? It’s my problem and I’m trying to deal with it. I came to this town hoping for some peace.”

Jaxon stands up from the desk and takes a slow step towards me. I hold my place, trying my hardest not to cower in front of him. Eventually, I need to grow a pair and learn how to stand my ground.

“Why are you sleeping in your car, Angel?” His voice is soft, like he’s talking to a scared child.

“How—how do you know about that?” I ask in my tiny voice.

“Anna called me this afternoon. She said she heard you screaming in your car, that you were asleep in it and that you were dreaming.” His eyes are assessing me, looking to see if I reveal anything.

Damn, Anna.

For lack of a good excuse I give him the same truth as I gave Anna.

“Well, um, I don’t have the cash right now to rent anything. I was hoping to get enough tips soon from this job and find a cheap place to stay. It’s no big deal; I’ll be okay in my car for a few days.”

He barks out a harsh laugh and I wonder what he finds funny. Certainly he’s not laughing at me because I have to sleep in my car. That would be cruel and unusual. Jaxon doesn’t seem like the type to be intentionally cruel and unusual.

His laughter dies down and he takes another step towards me. “You’ll be fine sleeping in your car, huh?”

“Yes?” It comes out more of a question than an answer, not sure where he’s going with this.

“And what happens when one of those drunk guys out there stumbles across you sleeping helplessly in your car?” His jaw goes rigid with his question.

“I always lock my doors, so nothing will happen,” I tell him, but the thought of it has my imagination running wild. Oh God, what if they somehow manage to get in my car?

Jaxon voices my concerns. “Seriously, Angel, use your head. Do you really think a car door lock will keep a drunk and horny guy away from something he wants?”

Oh
.

I’ve slept in my car twice now, and the thought that either of those nights could have ended with me being violated again makes me want to curl up in a corner. I’ve endured so much from Steven and to know that I finally got away from him to just end up in a similar situation causes my heart to thump heavily in my chest.

I put my hand to my throat and my eyes dart to Jaxon. He’s moved several feet closer. Oh God, what am I going to do? I have nowhere to go. But I can’t stay in my car again. That’s out of the question.

As if he’s read my thoughts again Jaxon says, “There’s a small apartment upstairs that you can use. It’s not much, but it’ll be a hell of a lot better than sleeping in your car.”

I sag in relief. Normally I can’t stand nor would I accept charity, but in this case I suck it up. The thought of sleeping in my car makes me quake in my shoes. I’ve been lucky so far, no way am I taking the chance of breaking my lucky streak. Besides, once I start making money, I can pay him rent.

“Thank you,” I whisper. Tears start to form in my eyes from the gratitude I feel from Jaxon’s offer. I blink them back. 

“Now, back to the other issue. Are you going to tell me what you’re running from?” He just doesn’t give up does he?

“No, I’m not.” I clench my hands and lift my chin in defiance. I have too much to lose if I reveal my secrets.

“Goddamn it, Bailey, why won’t you let me help you? What are you hiding from? Who’s hurt you and made you so scared you won’t even look me in the eyes?” His voice rises with each question. Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t scare me and my temper rises as well. Before I can stop myself, I lose it.

“Just leave it the fuck alone, Jaxon! It’s none of your business! Yes, something happened to me, okay, but I’m not talking about it! I’m never talking about it. It’s too dangerous! I want to forget!” I yell at him.

My eyes grow wide and my hands fly to my mouth. I’ve never raised my voice to another man before. Well, I have, but I learned real quickly to never do it again, both from my father and my husband. The repercussions were tremendous.

Jaxon just stares at me with raised eyebrows. The two silver rings twinkling in the light.

“I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you.” I squeeze my eyes closed waiting for him to lash out at me. I know it’s coming. It has to. I disrespected him and yelled at him. Tears start to stream out the corners of my eyes.

Instead of a fist to the side of my head, I feel gentle hands rest lightly on both sides of my face.

“Jesus Christ, Angel, what did he do to you?” Jaxon whispers, it coming out a statement rather than a question.

“Please look at me.”

I slowly open my eyes and peek at him through my wet lashes. He’s looking at me with tormented eyes. His beautiful multi-colored eyes should never carry that look.

I feel his thumbs brushing my wet cheeks, wiping away the tears that are sliding down my face. His touch is so soft and soothing. I’ve never experienced anything like it. The men in my life don’t comfort me; they hurt me, whether or not I deserve it. I have no idea how to react to his gentle touch. Should I trust it? I don’t know this man, but I’m starting to wonder if he’s different that the other men that have been in my life. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen anger in his eyes, but each time he doesn’t react the way I think and fear he will. This also isn’t the first time I’ve defied him, and again, each time he doesn’t punish me with violence. Instead he looks at me with sad eyes and tries to comfort me.