12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

" T his really isn't necessary," I huff, my fist against my cheek all that's holding my head up. Dax sits across the table, planting down two tall milkshakes. One chocolate, one strawberry, both with cream and sprinkles.

"Just pick a damn milkshake," he grunts and I opt for the chocolate one. "I'm buying you dinner on your birthday because I'm a gentleman. Not a crazed stalker who follows you to the OB/GYN." I snort into my straw. Finally, I crack a smile since Dax half-dragged me into this fast food diner.

"What did the guards do to you?"

"Called the cops, who questioned me in the parking lot for an hour. Since you didn't stick around to back up your statement, they didn't have much to go on. That's the only positive I can think of right now." His brows are furrowed as he sips his drink. I quickly discover he doesn't like strawberry milkshake but he pushes it away instead of demanding mine back.

"Another positive is that I've thoroughly forgiven you," I wink.

"Oh well, it's my lucky day then." Dax rolls his blue eyes, sarcasm dripping from his tone. He swiftly changes the conversation. "What tattoo did you get?" With my inner voice satisfied Dax has been inconvenienced enough, I pull out my phone and show him the design.

"My mom and I designed them together. It started as an afternoon activity and ended with the promise to get them together on my birthday. Obviously, I didn't think I'd be going alone but I held up my side of the bargain."

"What was your mom like?" Dax finds a warm smile, encouraging me to open up. The fact he probably knows all about her means it's solely for my benefit but I suppose today is as good as any to reminisce. I tell him all about her; how she found me when I was ten years old, took me in and loved me unconditionally from day one. How every day she wasn't required to be on a film set, she'd fly home to spend the precious days with me. We had endless passion projects to fill our time. In the evenings, it was movies and popcorn. When Nixon was able to join us, it felt like my life was complete. It's all I ever wanted - the simplicity.

"You weren't a fan of the galas and award ceremonies I take it?" Dax asks his first question in twenty minutes as our food is placed on the table. Red plastic baskets lined with paper to soak up the greasiest burger and fries I've ever seen.

"That was always more of Wyatt's area of expertise. The spotlight, the showboating," I sneer. Deciding there's no lady-like way to eat the double-stacked burger between my fingers, I open my mouth wide and attack it. Dax makes a noise of disagreement.

"He wasn't as excited to go as you'd think," Dax points a fry at me. At my confused look, Dax sighs. "It was the only way he could get any quality time with his- your parents. Half of the time, he loathed the traveling and effort he had to go to for it." I don't need clarification to know ‘quality time' means without me being there. If he felt any discomfort, I couldn't tell while watching the footage in high definition from the comfort of my sofa.

"Well he's a natural at bullshitting so," I shrug and go back to my burger. Dax frowns as if he wants to argue. Then a thought strikes me and I have to force it through the food in my mouth. "Anyways, ew. Can we not discuss Wyatt today of all days?" Thankfully, our conversation moves onto school and how I'm not going to skip any more of Mrs. Patrick's classes. Talking to Dax comes easily. He skates over uncomfortable topics and keeps the mood light. Once finished with our food, Dax clears up the table, stacking the trays neatly.

"If I offer you a ride back to your dorm, you're not going to have me arrested, are you?" he smirks, offering me his arm. I take it, withholding my answer. Let him sweat a little bit. The Mercedes is in a parking lot a few blocks away, and after such a heavy meal, I'm thankful for the slow walk. After a balmy day, an evening chill has settled. I shudder in the baggy sweats and t-shirt, and Dax hastily shrugs out of his hoodie for me. Maybe he is a gentleman after all. I wrap myself in his sea mineral smell, a lingering sadness settling in.

"We can't be friends, can we?" I keep my eyes on the sidewalk. Dax slides my bandaged hand back into the crook of his elbow.

"It's not advisable," he smirks. There's a playfulness there which I didn't expect. Wyatt seems to have a short leash on his men, but it doesn't stop them from rebelling. I put a pin in that thought for later.

"Can I ask one question before we go back to being strangers?" I lean into his side, playing along. Dax pulls me to a stop at a busy road, seeing me across safely before dipping his head to continue. "What's the deal with Axel? Are he and Garrett lovers or…" That smile instantly becomes twinged with sadness.

"Not exactly," he twists his lips this way and that. Reaching the parking lot, Dax pauses by a pillar. "As you know, abuse comes in many forms. Mental, physical, sexual…I can't speak for Axel. His story is his alone to tell, but I'll say that he requires a certain type of love. It's not easy to explain but Garrett understands him perfectly. Those two have saved each other time and again. I dread to think what would have happened if-" Dax seems to catch himself from rambling. My chest squeezes, desperate for him to continue. "The five of us are bonded like brothers but sometimes not even we are enough. If Axel were a ship at sea, Garrett would be his lighthouse. I know it doesn't make much sense."

Tears threaten to well in my eyes. It makes perfect sense to me. Some of us need that certain someone to be our anchor - Meg is mine. I didn't realize just how much I've been aching for her until this moment.

"I'm glad they have each other," I smile. An especially cool wind billows, whistling through the levels of the parking lot. We don't move. I'm content staring up into Dax's honest eyes, his warmth and cologne seeping into me.

Closing the last inch of space between us, I rest my head on his chest. Arms wind around my back, creating a stolen moment against the pillar which we'll not discuss here after. It's rare for me to admit when I need comfort. I've been so used to being wrapped in it, surrounded by those who understand me without needing an explanation. I don't know if I can add Dax to that list, regardless of the way his hands gingerly stroke my lower back, but at least for right now, I can pretend.