Chapter 41

JAX

"Where the hell have you been?"Knox asks me.

His eyes are fuzzy. He's drunk.

Everyone is basically drunk.

Mila's drunk…

I had been a little buzzed.

I look over my shoulder and can see the faded lights of the gazebo.

Don't worry, Mila is safe and sound…

‘Now what, Jax?'

‘You don't want to know what's going through my head, honey.'

‘Why don't you try me?'

‘This house has a million bedrooms. Nobody will have a fucking clue.'

She bites her bottom lip, fighting off the obvious notion of guilt that's creeping in.

I get it. I'm a bad person now, right?

I'm the bad guy now?

I don't care.

‘Or,' I say. ‘Or we can be realistic… and you shoot off a couple texts. Violet. Ruby. Willow. Someone. Tell them you're down here catching your breath from everything. That way I know you're safe. Then I just disappear into the night. For now.'

She nods and agrees with me.

Maybe it's not what we both want.

But at that moment, it works.

I move closer to her.

I want to steal one more kiss.

Instead, I pause and just stare at her.

She's beautiful.

Mila takes out her phone and starts texting.

‘Okay, Ruby is going to meet me here,' she says.

I nod.

I walk away.

"You okay, Knox?" I ask.

"Man, I'm doing as best as I can with this thing," he says. "Want to know something crazy?"

"Go for it."

"Willow and I were holding hands at the funeral. Crazy."

"Was that the first time you held hands with a girl?" I ask.

Knox laughs and grabs my shoulder. "Sometimes you're damn funny, Jax. That's good stuff."

He walks off, laughing, shaking his head.

I look toward the direction of the gazebo.

Then I go back inside and grab myself another drink.

I walk through the kitchen and some more of the large house.

I find a hallway and I find a bedroom.

Best thing for me right now is to stay away. Stay quiet.

Have one more drink and lie to myself that it'll chase away any thoughts of Mila.

I climb on top of the bed and feel the day start to catch up to me.

I'm surprised at how fast I end up falling asleep.

I'm expecting a long night of thinking about Mila.

The taste of her lips - finally.

The little teasing touches of her body.

Feeling her breast. Playing with her nipple.

Touching the soft, warm skin of her body…

Sliding my hand down the front of her pants, over her panties.

How close I was to touching her sweet and tender pussy. How badly I wanted to drop down and thirst on her warm honey. How much I desired to open my pants, pull my thick cock out and show her what she does to me. Let her feel me. Touch me. Stroke me. All before I slam my cock into her body and let her feel what a real man feels like. Show her how a real man fucks someone as beautiful as her.

Now I'm not sure if any of that is a dream or just some passing thoughts.

What I am sure of is the way the sunlight comes through the window above my head, waking me up.

I reach for my phone to check what time it is.

I groan.

Far too fucking early to be awake.

Then again, I think I've had enough of Mac and his father's death.

No offense to Mac and all but I need out of here.

It's intense. It's morbid.

I climb off the bed and walk to the kitchen to get something to drink that doesn't have a drop of booze in it.

I settle for a bottle of orange juice.

As I'm chugging the vitamin C goodness, there's movement from the corner of my eye.

Mila.

I stop drinking and turn my head.

She gasps when she sees me.

Her hair is a mess and she looks rough.

Without saying a word I hand her the bottle of orange juice.

She drinks as though she's walked through a desert for a month without water.

I open the fridge and get her a bottle of water.

She takes that next.

"You wouldn't happen to have sunglasses too, would you?"

"No, honey," I whisper. "Went a little hard?"

"We all did," she says. "So fucking hypocritical though."

"What is?"

"Nothing," she says.

She drinks more water.

Then she puts her head back, closes her eyes, and she exhales with a slight groan.

I'm thrust right back to the night before.

I can't help myself as I get closer to her.

I'm close enough to kiss her.

Mila looks at me.

"Jax," she whispers, already shaking her head.

"What's wrong, honey? Too afraid to get caught?"

"No. It's not that. It's…"

"What?"

"Last night."

"I was there," I say.

"Jax. We were drunk."

"Excuse me?"

"We were drunk. We let the emotions of the day get the best of us. Right?"

"That's what you think? That's the bullshit excuse you're going to sell yourself?"

"It's not a bullshit excuse, Jax. Yesterday was horrible. The funeral. The heaviness of it all."

"Oh, right. Your asshole boyfriend refuses to show up so you decide to let me touch you and make you come?"

She gasps.

I lean down toward her. "And don't lie to me, honey. That was the hardest you've come in a long time."

"We were drunk," she insists.

She sounds like she's trying to convince herself.

"That's pathetic," I say.

I start to walk away.

"So you're just leaving now?" Mila asks.

"Yeah," I say without looking back. "We're not drunk anymore. We have no reason to talk."

I'm done here.

I'm done with this house.

I'm done with the notion of death floating in the air.

And I'm more than done with Mila's sense of denial.

Maybe she's feeling guilty. Maybe she's battling a normally good-mannered heart.

That's not my problem.

Me?

I won't be used.

I won't be the in between guy.

It shouldn't matter to me though.

For some reason… when it comes to Mila… she's got my head twisted up tight.