5. Jax

Jax

D inner is excruciating. There are no two ways around it. Jeraldine keeps her head glued to her plate and directs her conversation to Stevie and Andy, who answer in monosyllables. River doesn't show, and I keep catching Eddie staring off into space, looking deeply upset.

The dynamic of my family feels broken, and I can't help but think it's my fault. Louis would tell me to stop being so self-absorbed and that the world doesn't revolve around me, but since this is his fault, I'm ignoring his voice in my head.

As soon as I'm finished, I go to push away from the table, but Eddie catches my eye, motioning me to stay. I sit back down and pick up my champagne flute, filling it instead with water as I wait for the rest of my family to leave.

It doesn't take long.

No one spoke to me. Not a how are you? Not a question about if I'm okay. They just ignored me again. It's like I'm not even a person anymore. I'm a ghost.

"I've been wondering about something," Eddie says and stands up. He moves around the table and pulls out an empty chair beside me.

"What have you been wondering about?" I ask and set my glass down.

"This man that you loved, this man you say kills…what was it about him that was so good you needed to give up the family for?" He tries to keep his emotions out of the question, but there's no way to hide them.

I wince. "Dad, I didn't give up the family for him. I left because I didn't think I belonged here. With you, yes, but not with them." I cast a glare at the doors. "It still feels that way. I was young, and I was sure you'd be better off without me."

Eddie sighs. "Every parental instinct in me wants to argue with you and tell you how foolish that belief is, and yet, I can understand."

"My friend, who became my boyfriend a few years later, was charming. He hid his true self behind a mask that he'd perfected. I didn't really know him at all. But he isn't the reason I left, Dad."

Eddie leans back in his chair. "Your mother and I were friends a long time before we ended up…producing you. I did not know she was having such trouble at home. I didn't know she had an addiction problem and parents who didn't care. I remember thinking I didn't know her at all, either." Eddie stops and picks up a glass, pouring wine into it. "And yet, I find myself remembering how she hated the sound of buses, she liked ham and cheese sandwiches, strawberry milk, I remember she used to smile so wide when she heard music and would start dancing and singing. I did know her."

I consider his words for a long moment. "Louis was very adept at being someone else."

"Mmm, I'm sure he was. Well, it's over now. With Titan confessing, it's all done. The police have decided they must have worked together."

I blink and remember with a jolt that Titan had confessed, and that's the story most people believe.

"I don't think Titan was the Black Dahlia Killer." I hate using the name the press coined for Louis. It makes me feel vaguely dirty .

"No, he was the partner. He had a letter all written out. Explicit details. That lovely Detective Descario told me about it. Titan and Louis worked together, but Titan killed Louis six years ago."

I blink rapidly, my throat working as I try to understand what I'm hearing. "There was a confession letter?"

"Oh, yes, it's blown the case right open. He even gave up one of Louis' victims from before to prove that it was him, or so said Descario after reading the letter."

"I don't suppose she apologised?" I sneer to myself. She's not going to give up on getting me behind bars. I know that woman, and she's not done.

Eddie pretends I didn't say anything. "The Detectives are leaving in a week. They're tying up all the loose threads here, and then they'll be gone. So, that's all wrapped up. I guess what I'm here to ask is, with Sparrow agreeing to weekly appointments from here on out, I wanted to know if there was anything you wanted to do?"

"Do?"

"Do you want to study? Take a sabbatical? Go to a spa? Work? Do you need more time? I just want to know how to help you. You're my daughter, and you've been so lost for so long, I want to do something. I need to do something to take care of you, but, Jax, you're a stranger to me, and try as I might, you aren't like the other kids. I don't know what will help you."

"You let me stay-"

"That's not doing something. That's being a father, Jackie," Eddie snaps. "Jax, sorry. Let me pay for whatever you want. You want to hold another art exhibition, I'll make it happen."

I gape at him. "I…I just don't know."

"All right, well, you think about it. I have a shit tonne of money. All those years of working hard, and now there's more than enough. I want to spend some on you. I want to give you choices."

He grips my hand and squeezes it .

"Thanks, Dad."

"Good. So, it's settled. You decide what you want, and I'll buy it for you. A fresh start." He looks so relieved that I take the guilt, shove it deep inside me, and bury it.

I'm so overwhelmed, I just stare at him as he marches from the room. I sit there in silence while the staff come and clear the table. This brittle feeling won't go away. I keep hearing the information he dropped on me.

My demon, my devil, has convinced the entire world he's dead. My head is spinning. There just seems to be no way to outsmart him to get ahead. Every move he makes is ten steps ahead and rocks my entire world.

"Hey, where's Eddie?" A voice barks out.

I look up and find Richard standing there. He has a bundle of folders under his arm and that familiar look of impatience on his face.

"I don't know," I say with a slow blink.

He huffs. "Fine. I'll be in his office if you see him."

I nod and stand up, passing by him without paying any attention to him.

"Oh, Jax?"

I look over my shoulder. "Yes?"

"There's a courier on the porch waiting for a family member."

I'm going that way anyway, so I just detour to the door and push it open. On the porch stands a young guy with a bright smile. His eyes crinkle at the sides, his front two teeth overlap slightly.

I don't know why I see those details so clearly. Perhaps it's because when he pulls his hand out from behind his back, holding out the five black dahlias, every other detail disappears in a sick swirl .

I want to yell at the stranger, tell him to get away. I want to slam the door and ignore those dahlias, but I can't. My fingers tremble as I take the bouquet in my arms.

"Thank you," I say, and despite my best attempts, I sound sick.

"Have a lovely day, Mrs Falcon."

My lungs force all the air from them, and I wheeze as he trots down the white stairs. His hair turns orange in the fading light, but I can't fucking breathe.

"How do you know my name?" I cry out desperately.

He opens his car door and smiles at me, all polite manners and professionalism. "Your husband told me on the phone, he described what you looked like, told me about your new haircut, and said he can't wait to see you. It's all on the card."

My fingers tense around the stem of the dahlias, and I wince in pain. I peel back the wrapping and find rose stems wrapped around the dahlias. Asshole. I reach in and fish out the note.

Jojo,

I know the last few months have been hard. You have suffered so much. But we can be together soon, my love.

Your hair looks amazing, you look amazing.

Yours faithfully,

Lee

I stare at the note, reading it over and over until the words are burned into my memory. He knows we know he's Lee. He knows I know he's Lee. My heart pounds, and my head aches. He isn't giving up on me. Why? What is this?

I raise my hand to touch the short, sharp bob. Sparrow's henchmen cut it in the facility. Jeraldine, in a fit of kindness, had someone come in and take care of it for me, styling it while I was in my drug-induced whiteout. It feels wrong, and I keep forgetting.

He's seen me in person ?

I turn and go back into the house. I could throw the flowers, yell and scream, but I've done that. What happens? Nothing. I just have a mess to clean up.

I put the flowers on the side table and glance up the stairs. Gideon is standing at the top, staring down at me. Mason. Gideon. I see them both, but Mason is fading. Gideon wears Mason's skin a different way. He barely resembles the boy I knew.

No, this is the man I love.

He reaches out and flicks the light off, leaving the huge foyer and staircase in near darkness.

Movement in the dark, sweeps and darts, the shadows that shift making the darkness look like it's alive. I wince as I make my way up the stairs, pretending I can't see the dark, creeping man who paces beside me, his gaze locked on my face.

I don't know him, but he watches me with a rage that makes me nervous. I ignore him, hoping these ghosts haven't figured out what's going on yet.

I stop on the step below Gideon. He towers above me in Mason's body, but in the dark, it's him. He reaches out and cups my cheek, and I let myself lean into his embrace.

"I missed you, G."

"You look beautiful tonight," Gideon murmurs.

"I look like crap."

"No, you look like a survivor, a warrior. You look like mine."

I toss my head and step past him. He catches up my hand and spins me into him. I let out a squeak as I slam into his hard chest.

"Gideon?" My harsh question is the only sound other than our breathing. I can hear him breathing. Oh, god, this is heaven, this is hell. I'm falling into the abyss of my broken mind.

In the dark, I feel his breath on my face. His head descends towards mine. For a half a second, I'm torn with indecision, but there's no decision, not really. I've been wanting this for a long time. I wrap my arms around his neck, dragging myself up against him, hip to hip, chest to chest, lips to lips. Time stills and then surges into existence. Our lips move in a dance that we both know intimately.

With my eyes closed, with the dark, with him in my arms, there is no mistaking who I'm kissing. Two memories roll and form into one person. Mason, my poor Mason, he fades away.

"I thought you were dead," I pant. "Gideon," I whisper. "My Gideon."

"I'd never leave you," he growls and lifts me so I can lock my legs around his waist. His hands are all over me, and mine are all over him.

"Gideon, we-"

"Don't think. Not now. Don't think, Jax. Just feel," he growls and sucks hard on the column of my throat. I pant and scratch my nails up his back.

A reckless need fills me, and I reach between us into his pants, stroking the hard length of him. He lifts his head, and in the pale light, I see the need in his eyes.

"Jax-"

"Put me down," I snarl and pull my hand out.

He drops me. I land on my feet and gracefully drop to my knees. I lick up the underside of his cock. There's so little light that I'm doing everything blindly, but it just adds another element to the tension thrumming between us. His fingers thread into my hair. I'm not sure if he wants to hold me still or help me move, but after I give him a moment, I ignore them and lick another stripe up to the heated steel in my hand. His fingers tighten, but I move suddenly, sucking him deep into my mouth, swallowing him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Gideon murmurs.

The only light comes from a room on the bottom floor, but at any moment, any of our family or staff could come in, could see us. It spurs me on further. I clench my thighs together and stroke his shaft with tight, hard movements.

I probe his slit with the tip of my tongue and run my free hand up the inside of his thigh to cup his balls. He groans. The sound reminds me vividly of how aroused I am, how wet I am. I squirm and redouble my efforts, gripping him hard at the base and stroking him. On my third stroke, I wrap my lips around his head and take him into my mouth again.

"Fuck! You're too good, Jax. My Jax. I never thought, I never dreamed." He stops, panting, and growls when I take him deeper yet. My nose brushes the stiff hairs on his groin. I snarl and rest my hands on his thighs. I pull my mouth off, loving the sweet ache in my jaw and the taste of him that lingers on my tongue.

"Fuck my face, Gideon."

I can hear his silent protest and grip his cock hard enough to make him moan.

"Fuck my face. Make me yours. Claim me. Erase all his memories. I want you, I wanted you the first time I saw you-"

He cuts me off with a groan, pushing into my mouth and tightening his hold on my hair.

"All right," Gideon snarls. "I'm going to make your mouth mine. Now. Later, I'll take the rest of you. Open your mouth, baby, and hold on."

I whimper as he thrusts in. He's not gentle. He's everything. I have to focus on him completely. The scent of his musk, the salty taste, the steel cock ramming my throat, his fingers in my hair preventing my movement. In the dark, I can't see anything, but I can hear the overly sexualised sounds of our fucking. My moans, his grunts, his growls, the wet sounds of him violating my mouth.

At any moment, we could get busted. There are people everywhere in this house. And I don't care, it just makes this hotter!

His thrusts get shorter and his grip on my hair tighter .

"I'm going to come," he growls. "And you're going to swallow every drop."

My whole body simultaneously melts and tightens as his thrusts shorten, and then he grips his cock and pulls out of my mouth.

"Open your mouth, tongue out," he snarls.

I obey instantly. I hear the sound of him jacking off, and then he groans low and deep, and his salty cum hits my mouth. With a moan, I swallow it instantly and swallow again when more spurts hit my tongue. When he's finished, I lean forward and take his softening cock into my mouth to clean him up.

He pulls me up and turns us so my back is against the railing of the landing. His mouth slams against mine, his tongue invading my mouth, an all-consuming kiss that destroys every thought as I have them.

I cling to him even as the sounds of the ghost banging the stair railing draws our attention. I lift my head and follow the ghost's glaring form to see someone standing in the frame of the front door.

The fury radiating off the figure makes me shiver. My fingers knot in Gideon's t-shirt as I stare at the person. There is so much malevolent rage spiking into the room that I'm surprised we missed it.

The clatter of one of the maids dropping her broom startles the three of us. Gideon curses and does up his pants.

"Who are you?" The maid asks the figure.

The person turns and walks out of the house.

I rip myself free of Gideon and fly down the stairs, but by the time I get to the front door, there's no sign of him.

The maid looks at me and at the door. I advance on her.

"What did he look like?"

"I don't know. I couldn't see well on account of the light behind him. But he was tall, I guess. "

"Did you recognise him?"

"No, but, Miss, I'm sorry, but I only started three days ago. It just seemed a bit weird him standing there watching you and the master."

I glance at Gideon, who frowns slightly. "Thank you, Melonie."

She blushes and looks between us both. "No problems, Master Mason. Goodnight, Miss Harmon."

Gideon picks up the flowers and looks at them. "Throw these out."

"Oh, but they're lovely."

"All the same, see that it's done, Melonie."

"Of course, Master Mason."

We watch her go before I lean into his side. "We need to talk."

"Yes. I think we probably should."

We ascend the stairs, ignoring the ghost again, and this time, we don't stop on the landing.