22. Jax

Jax

I wake up in the bed alone, and when I put my hand on the spot where Rafael had slept, it's cold to the touch. Yesterday flashes behind my eyelids, and the hole inside me that seems to get bigger all the time tries to swallow me. Cherise smiles in my memory, her blonde hair fanning out around her. I feel her arms around me, and it's too much; I shove myself up and scramble out of the bed.

I clench my hands and look around in a panic. There's got to be something I can do! I have to find her. Maybe there's a chance, maybe if I'm smart enough, if I'm fast enough…I shake my head. Who am I fooling? Six years trying to find a weakness, and nothing, what makes me think I'm going to find it today, even to save her. I stumble to the second door in the bedroom, relieved to see a bathroom.

It's a long bathroom that maintains the same industrial modern look as the rest of the house. I note body spray and a toothbrush on the counter. It smells like Rafe.

I turn the tap on the cold and bend down to hold my face under it, choking and gasping on the water, but the icy pain brings me back. With a groan, I lift my head and stare at the woman in the mirror. I don't even recognise her anymore. Too many secrets in her eyes, too much pain in the lines of her face. Who is this woman who fails? I hate her so much. My fingers bite into the basin, gripping hard enough to make the joints ache.

"You have to finish this," I whisper to the woman in the mirror. "Finish it for them."

I just don't know how to do that.

"Break it down, get dressed, and go see Keylore." I look around the bathroom and pause when I see the pile sitting on the counter at the other end. There's a second door I hadn't seen. There's a towel, toothbrush, hairbrush, and a clean set of clothes. I pick up the black lace underwear, and my eyebrows rise at the sheer fabric.

I take my time getting clean, almost rubbing my skin raw, using the time to plan. I emerge from the room to see Dane standing in the kitchen, shaking a frying pan, and Rafael sitting on the couch with a coffee. It's so domestic and normal that I feel strangely like I'm out of place, looking in on something from the outside.

"Good morning."

Dane glances at me and grunts.

"Use your words, Dane. I know I taught them to you," Rafael says without turning his head. "Morning, Jax. Come sit with me. Dane, despite his inability to step out of his cave-dweller persona, is making you breakfast."

I glance quickly at Dane and see him scowling at the frying pan like he's contemplating homicide.

"You don't have to do that."

"He does. He's sorry for being an ass." Rafael grabs my hand and kisses the inside of the palm. An image of him doing the same thing last night storms into my mind and brings a furious blush to my cheeks and an uncomfortable dampness to the sheer underwear.

I allow him to pull me down and lean into him.

"So, last night you said Keylore was the pastor?"

I nod my head. "Yes. We should be able to see him today."

Rafael nods and reaches up to brush my hair back from my face. I finally put my finger on what it is about him that unnerves me. He is so comfortable with touch, it's natural. And he uses it as a balm whenever I start getting uncomfortable.

I've gone months, sometimes, without a single person shaking my hand. The people that do touch me, I'm wondering what they want, what they are trying to get. Touch has been a weapon in the past, but Rafael uses it simply because it's who he is, and somehow, my subconscious knows it. He is not a threat to me.

Dane puts a bacon and egg sandwich on the coffee table, turns, and walks away. I twist to watch him go.

"Thanks for the sandwich and the clothes, Dane," I say on a whim.

He jerks, spilling coffee over his hand. I listen to him curse with a warm feeling in my chest. If he hated me, he wouldn't bring me food and clothes. I feel like I've won something invaluable.

"Stop gloating and eat," Rafael purrs into my ear. "It's too damn sexy and distracting for what we have planned today."

My face gets hot, so I reach for the sandwich obediently. Dane sits down on the opposite couch and starts eating his sandwich, but he stares at me while he does. I could be eating chalk for all the attention I'm paying the food.

"So, why did you lie to us?"

The three of us fall silent as Dane's question falls into the air.

"Did you see what happened? When The Black Dahlia Killer was found? The newspapers, the interviews, stories, the whole of everything. Did you see it?"

Dane nods.

"My sisters and brother didn't have anything to do with it. It was my fuck-up, my mistake. Do you think anyone would have cared? No one listened to me, and I was there. I couldn't destroy my father's business and my family's reputation because I was an idiot."

"How did you keep it secret?" Dane asks.

"Officially, I'm a Blackwell. My only known relative is my mother, and she died. In the eyes of the law, I'm an orphan. Edward, my dad, is not on my birth certificate. He's not an emergency contact, and I look different. Really different from the kid that left."

I take a bite, but the flavour is gone, and it just feels like an oily mess in my mouth. I chew anyway.

"What did you look like before?" Rafael asks.

I consider the question for a long moment because it's difficult to put my finger on.

"It wasn't that I look different. It was my attitude and behaviour. I used to wear really big clothes and covered myself up from head to toe. My hair was always pulled back in a tight bun. I used to walk with my chin on my chest and never meet eyes. My self-confidence was in the gutter, friends didn't exist, I was a chubby little freak. I doubt many people remember me. I was unremarkable."

"What changed?" Dane asks.

I meet his eyes. "I went and did something for myself. Studied art, sold it, fell in love, had a life where I wasn't Jackie Blackwell, orphan or Jackie Harmon, secret child. I could be the person I wanted to be. Accepted my skin, grew confident in my own abilities, and then had it all ripped away because I'm a terrible judge of character."

"Now you're a pissed off warrior on a dark path of redemption." Dane nods his head like it's a really interesting story, stands up, and walks off.

"What?" I finally splutter. "That's not what…"

"It's a flattering image, isn't it?" Rafael grins lazily at me.

"No! Well, yes, but that's not me."

Rafael chuckles and leans in to kiss my cheek. "Sweetness, that is you exactly. That's how people see you."

"But…what…no!" I splutter.

"Come on, my warrior goddess, let's go castrate the pastor."

I blink up at him but allow him to pull me up. Dane snatches up the plate and washes it quickly before collecting his wallet, phone, and keys and striding for the door.

He scans the warehouse behind us, and then turns off the lights as we pass him. He steps past us and scans the outside before crossing to the car.

Hypervigilance. I recognise it. What demon's haunt Dane?

I slide into the backseat and sit there as Rafael starts the car.

"Where are we going?"

"Community centre."

The drive is one of comfortable silence. Occasionally, Rafael bursts into murmured snatches of song, but otherwise, it's uneventful.

Rafael turns into the car park, and I make a hissing noise, having zoned out.

"Park somewhere else."

"Why?"

"Because, at night, this is where the locals set up a tent city. If you park here, it's a sign of disrespect and marks you as a stranger, they'll strip your car. Wherever it is in Hurricane."

Dane sucks in a breath and glares at Rafael. "Rafe, don't you dare. I love this car, park somewhere else, or I swear, I will wash every single item of clothing you own in pink food dye."

"I like pink. It goes with my eyes." Rafe bats his lashes.

"Rafe!" Dane growls. "Itching powder."

Rafael ponders it but doesn't move the car.

Dane leans forward, his face triumphant. "I'll tell Jax your virginity story, your first love, and the proposal story. Every damn humiliating detail. All of it. No editing. Complete disclosure."

Rafe's fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and he slowly, painfully, turns his head to glare at Dane. If I thought Dane had a glare, I'm shocked to see it on Rafael. He looks downright deadly.

"Now, I'm curious," I say from the back.

Rafe puts the car into reverse and maneuvers the car out of the car park and parks on the street.

"Happy?"

"Exceedingly." Dane nods and hops out the car, whistling a happy tune.

"Are you going to share those stories?"

"Only when I'm really, really drunk."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

Rafe shakes his head. "Damn, that was evil. I'm going to need something really good to get him back."

"Uh…"

"Want to help me?"

The mischievous smile is hard to say no to. I chew my lip and nod. "All right, but if he tries to kill us, I'm throwing you under the bus. Got it?"

"Deal."

I climb out of the car and bump into Dane. I stumble backwards, but he catches my upper arms and steadies me. He's haloed by the brilliant blue sky, a rarity here in Hurricane. I think his eyes and the sky might be the same colour.

"What were you two talking about?"

I smile sweetly. "Revenge."

"Oh? Care to share?"

"Nope."

"Well, in that case, I'll get in early."

Dane steps forward. It's a liquid, predatory movement that makes my stomach flutter. I back up and bump into the car. He tugs my hair and kisses me hard. He's there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it, if not for the tingling of my lips.

I rush after him and shove him in the back. "What was that?"

He whirls, grabs my wrist, pulls it up so high and fast that I have to step into his body, and kisses me again.

"What?" I shriek, but he just laughs and walks away.

Rafael stops next to me and chuckles. "Dane is a puzzle even the wisest of us don't try to solve. Enjoy the kisses and plot evil payback with me. Trust me, I am the king of pranking."

"I'm thinking the two of you are a bit insane."

Rafe smirks, and then it drops away. "Yeah. Terrance used to say the same thing. He was our referee."

"None of you are related, are you?"

Rafe shakes his head while we walk. "No, but none of us had other family, so we just kind of bonded. We were brothers. We are, we are brothers."

I don't say anything to his pained whisper. We just walk into the community centre in silence.

Today, we head into the hall opposite the library. The soft murmur of people talking is somewhat comforting. I pause just inside, looking at all the tables. There's food, coffee, juice on one table. Blankets, pillows, towels on another. A third table holds clothes, as do a fourth and fifth. At the end of the hall is a stage, packed with boxes. And standing in front of it, with his hands on his hips, smiling just like my last memory of him, is the man himself.

Jacob Keylore has grown into himself; the pudge is gone, and the acne scars are barely visible. When he smiles, people smile back. You can see, even from across the hall, that he is loved by the multitudes that come here.

I barely look around as we walk through, just enough to take in the table after table with clothes, food, first aid supplies, blankets. Whatever he is running here, it suddenly makes sense why people adore him. The purpose of this place becomes clear.

My eyes lock back on him, and I see the moment he notices me, his face shutters and grows serious. He turns to talk to the people with him, and then heads in a direction at the back of the cavernous hall. He jerks his head, and we turn to follow him.

I stop a foot away from where he waits, and we just stare at each other for a long moment. He stands tall like he's living a life he's comfortable with. His hair is cut short, and his face is open, his eyes, always intelligent, now appear wise. His jaw is strong. He looks like the poster child for ‘happily well-adjusted man', but then, he serves a higher purpose. He's happy, I think with a pang. Fit, healthy man in the prime of his life. What am I doing here?

"Jackie Blackwell, you're alive," he breathes. "I can't believe you're here."

"Could we, uh, talk?"

He nods quickly and leads us into a small office where he stops and suddenly crushes me to his chest.

"So good to see you."

I have to admit, this display is odd. We weren't good friends, not really. We both kind of rotated around Louis's gravity field. Him on one side and me on the other. He was always stand-offish with me, and I never understood why.

"I thought maybe…he…" he stops talking and sucks in a breath that is in part pain and relief.

I pat his back awkwardly. "No, he didn't manage to end me."

"Thank the Lord. I prayed for you. I watched the news, I saw what they were saying, but then you vanished." He doesn't seem to register me turning to wood in his arms. "I never believed it. Not you. Him, yes, but Jackie Blackwell, no way."

The faith, that complete belief in who I am, floors me. Dad, Mason, and now Jacob. Did I really think they'd not believe me? Yes, I'd been positive that they would hate me. But this blind trust…it is staggering and changing my complete view on the world. What would Dad say if I told him everything?

He pulls back awkwardly and holds me at arm's length by the shoulders. "Look at you, you survived, and you look so good."

I blush, and my eyes slide awkwardly to Dane, who shifts from foot to foot. This office is small, filled with paperwork, more boxes, a desk that's older than I am, and a row of windows that have probably never been opened.

"Thanks, Jacob. You look amazing, too. I can't believe you run this place."

He sits on his desk and throws his arms wide. "My baby, my life's work." He shakes his head. "I couldn't have done it without the good people of Hurricane. I live to serve."

"You're an amazing person, Jacob, and I'm so happy to see you doing well," I say the words, and I mean them. Jacob was the boy next door. He's grown up into an amazing man.

"Ah, well, it took a while to recover my broken heart when you and Louis left me, but I found an amazing woman to be my wife, found God, and started this campaign to stop the dark spread of fear in Hurricane. It keeps me busy."

"Broken heart?" Rafael asks.

Jacob beams at Rafael, and then looks at me. "You didn't tell them?"

I shake my head, confused.

"Oh, man, I had the worst crush on Miss Jackie here. I was so in love with her, but she only had eyes for Lou."

Dane moves closer, brushing his arm against mine. My mouth falls open, and I rearrange my childhood with this new information.

"I didn't know that!"

Jacob looks astounded. "How could you not know? I wrote you all those notes?"

"What notes?" I glance at Rafe like he can tell me.

The pastor looks at me long and hard, and then sighs. "Lou," he clucks his tongue, "of course, Lou got rid of them, stupid me. He denied how jealous he would get, but I knew he felt it."

I scowl. "Louis took them?"

"Louis was going to give them to you," Jacob scowls. "It took a long time to see how manipulative that man was. A long time. His absence is like having curtains drawn back. Is it that way for you?"

I nod. "Kind of. He got better at hiding stuff. I find a lot more out from other people's interactions with him than from my own."

Jacob scowls. "And this is what it comes down to, doesn't it? He's back, killing in his home court advantage."

"And we're going to stop him," Dane growls.

I nod. "See, the issue, Jacob, is that we need to know the real Louis in order to discover if there are any clues that might help us unravel his life. But it turns out Louis Falcon was an alias."

"Jam on a sandwich!"

Rafael explodes in laughter. "Sorry, Father, I mean, Pastor, I just never heard jam used as a curse before. Please, continue."

Jacob's smile isn't at all feigned, and his dimples make him seem much younger.

"Well, Lou was a man of many mysteries. Take the library, for example. I never did find out what he was doing in there."

"Drawing in the back of every book," Dane says, and his fingers brush mine.

I look down at our hands, and then try to focus on the conversation.

"Drawing in the back- wow." Jacob stands up and circles his desk to sit down.

"Who was his family? Where did he live? Which way did he walk home?" I ask desperately.

"I don't know!" Jacob says slowly.

"Please, Jacob, try. Anything, something."

Dane's hand closes on mine, and I cling to him like he's a life line.

"What's happened?" Pastor Jacob asks. "Don't lie to me, I know you want to, but I still know your tell, Jackie!"

"A girl is missing, a girl I worked with," I speak in a whisper, but it seems to reach every nook and cranny of the room. Such a raw, horrible sentence.

Jacob pales. "I never saw him leave, but I had to get home before he did. I never went to his house." Jacob reaches into his drawer and pulls out a black book. He flicks through it, and we wait impatiently. He closes it and leans back, closing his eyes.

"I saw him once, when my grandfather died. We were at the funeral, and he was sitting on some gravestones. It looked like he was talking to them. I almost went and said hello, but he looked so raw and emotional, like I've never seen. Louis was my god, you have to understand, I had no one else. I would have done anything for him. So, when I thought he was upset, I would have gone to him, but then I saw his face. He wasn't sad. He was mad. And I realised he was furious, angrier than I've ever seen him. I was a coward. Yeah, I can admit now that Louis scared me as much as I worshiped him."

"Where is this cemetery?" Rafael asks urgently.

"I'll take you," Jacob says slowly. "It's the least I can do."

I squeeze Dane's fingers and try not to give in to that tiny feeling that maybe we have found something useful at last.