Chapter Fourteen

I gasp for air as I lean against the kitchen island, my arms and legs shaking like a leaf being thrown into a hurricane. Jaxon's touch lingers, tingling and licking every nerve ending in my body.

This is what I wanted. I've been dying to be with him for so long, but now that it's in my face and he's making it clear he wants me too, I'm scared. Really fucking scared because the world won't understand. I don't know how much longer I can fight this attraction to him.

I check behind me, ensuring Jaxon didn't follow me down here and decide to keep pursuing me out in the open. Dad caught us but said nothing about it. Possibly because of Jaxon's sarcastic remark, which put him at ease.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I make myself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal before I sit down at the table. On the first bite, I wince from the dull pain as the skin on the side of my face pulls even tighter.

To distract myself from the pain, I grab my phone out of my pocket and check my notifications. A lot of them are from the dating apps I joined last night. There are several matches and new messages. Jaxon's warning plays in my head as I open the first message. I hesitate. He wouldn't actually kill someone...

"Dahlia."

I jump at Mom's voice as she bustles into the kitchen.

"I need you to run into town and get decorations and pumpkins."

"Why can't you do it?" I mumble.

Mom comes around from behind me, heading straight to the coffeepot. "Speak up and stop mumbling."

I glare at her back as she pours herself a cup, then turns to me. Her eyes widen when she notices my swollen and bruised face.

"What happened?" she screeches, then sets her coffee on the counter before she rushes to my side.

I gently touch my cheek and wince. "I'm okay."

Mom crowds me as she leans in and touches the cuts way too hard. I hiss in a breath through my clenched teeth and jerk away from her, but Mom touches my face like it doesn't hurt me. I slap her hand away and she gasps, clutching her figurative pearls because I established boundaries and refused to let her keep hurting me. She looks so funny with her wide eyes and thin, parted lips. She almost looks like a caricature of herself.

I roll my lips inward, holding back the laugh building in my chest.

Mom recovers, her shock twisting into anger. I almost feel bad for wanting to laugh at her, but my disdain overrides that. A giggle slips from me, then another, until I'm cackling with tears in my eyes.

"Why are you laughing?" she snaps. "This isn't funny, Dahlia. Quit being a baby and let me see. "

I shake my head as my laughter dies out. "You were hurting me."

"Dahlia." Mom huffs and reaches for me. "Stop it. I'm not hurting you. I just want to see how bad these are."

She's a nursing-student dropout from over twenty years ago who thinks she knows what she's doing. I'm glad she's not a nurse because I can only imagine how awful she would be to her patients.

I jerk back again, and Mom grabs the nape of my neck. Her acrylic nails dig into my skin and draw a whimper from me.

"What happened?" she asks.

I wince as she peels off a Band-Aid like she doesn't know how much it hurts when it's done that slowly. "Nothing major. Please, just stop."

"Honey, you're mumbling again. Speak up." She touches the wound, applying too much pressure again. It's like she wants to hurt me while disguising it as caring about me. Maybe this is why I'm so fucked up. My mom isn't any better.

I yelp and jump out of my seat, my elbow and knees knocking against the chair, counter, and Mom, who yells like I just stabbed her. The metal spoon in my bowl clatters onto the onyx-marble counter, flicking milk and cereal onto it.

"That didn't hurt, Dahlia," Mom chides, and chases me around the kitchen.

I duck past her and dash to the other side of the counter, holding my hands up, palms out to keep her at bay. "Why do you need to touch it? And with no gloves or at least freshly washed hands. It'll get an infection now."

Mom rolls her eyes. "It won't get infected. I was checking if there's puss."

I shake my head. "I told you, I'm fine."

"Dahlia, I need you to use your voice and speak up. I'm sick of you mumbling!"

"She said she's fine," Jaxon says. "You need to listen instead of opening your mouth just to hear yourself talk."

I suck in a breath and swing my gaze to the wide doorway leading into the kitchen. Jaxon walks into the room, his lips pulled down in a frown as he glares at my mom with vitriol.

Mom softens as she looks at my brother, even though he insulted her. It's wild how she changes when around him. "Do you know anything about this?"

Jaxon crosses the room, plucks a sugary marshmallow from my cereal bowl, and pops it into his mouth. He steps in front of me, acting as a barrier between my mother and me.

"Like you care?" Jaxon says, and slips his hands into his pockets.

Mom touches her throat, her eyes shining with forced tears. "You're saying that I don't care about my daughter? I gave birth to her!"

Jaxon leans into Mom's personal bubble, and her lips part like she expects him to kiss her.

"You think giving birth to someone automatically means you care about them?" He leans back, and it's hard to miss Mom's disappointment when he didn't do more. "Let me worry about my sister, and you worry about my father's wallet."

I stop breathing, and I prepare myself for an all-out argument. Mom won't put up with that—especially from me. All the fight in her leaves. She huffs, turns on her heels, and storms out of the room. Of course she does. She doesn't want to argue with Jaxon when he has anger issues, but she's okay with crossing every line and boundary with me.

Jaxon turns to me, and I slowly expel the air from my burning lungs after holding my breath for who knows how long. He looks me over, assessing my face with a more clinical eye than the possessive look he had not even thirty minutes ago when we were upstairs .

He cups my cheek. His thumb brushes against my skin in a whisper-soft caress. "How are you feeling?"

I shift my weight on my legs and sink my front teeth into my bottom lip for a moment to distract myself from his touch. "Like crap," I say after a moment. "Everything hurts. What about you?"

His stroke freezes for a moment before he continues the gentle touch. "I can give you something for the pain."

"Like what?" I can't stop myself as I lean into his caress, and my hands creep up to touch him. My palms hover an inch away from his chest.

The corners of Jaxon's lips tilt up like he's just won a battle. He rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. "Follow me."

He drops his arm and walks out of the kitchen. I wait for a moment, swallowing my nerves because I know he's most likely taking me back to his bedroom.

And I don't think I can fight this any longer.