Page 104 of Stay with Me

Dipping my chin, I squeezed my eyes shut. It was a bad idea because I could see that night clearly. To the day I died, I’d be able to see that night, to waking up with my brand-new room, with its pink walls and my name spelled out in block letters attached to the wall, filled with smoke. I’d never forget that the first big breath I dragged in had scorched the very inside of my throat and chest. Panic poured into me as I’d stumbled off the bed and saw the pink paint peeling from the walls, the terror when I opened the bathroom door and the entire world exploded. Smoke had turned yellow and brown—I remembered that—a moment before it all happened. Glass shards had been flung through the air, slicing into my skin. Flames were everywhere, seeming to crawl across the floor and lick over the ceilings and walls. It was like a giant flash. And there had been screams. Horrific screams that no horror movie could even really replicate and some of them had been mine. Some of them had been Kevin’s.

“It was so hot. The paint was blistering. There was no air and ...” I drew in a shaky breath and I didn’t realize that I’d spoken out loud until his lips pressed against my temple again.

“I know you were lucky to survive,” he said, smoothing his thumbs along the sides of my waist. “Your dad got to you first and he brought you outside. And then he and your Mom tried to get back inside, upstairs again, but it was fully engulfed. They couldn’t get back up the stairs ... it was too late for your brothers.”

I twisted again, but Jax held on. The ice in my chest was spreading, becoming a real, tangible pain. “Tommy never woke up.” I remembered hearing Mom say that once. That after an autopsy was performed, it showed that he’d died from smoke inhalation. A blessing in disguise, because by the time the fire was put out, his room was nothing but charred cinder and wood. “Kevin ... he was awake.”

Again, with the quiet voice, “I know.”

I opened my eyes slowly and my lashes felt damp. “Their coffins,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes tight once more and seeing them. “They were so small. You know, smaller than you think they made coffins. And yet, I know they make them even smaller, but God ... they were so small.”

His lips brushed under the corner of my right eye, and I knew—oh God, my chest hurt—I knew he’d caught a tear, and the iciness in my chest, invading my stomach and my soul, eased off a little bit.

“They never had a chance,” I said, dragging in another deep breath. “The fire started right outside their rooms, in the ceiling and walls. It spread so quickly.”

Jax remained quiet, and a few moments passed before I spoke again. “Our family was awarded a large sum of money once it was discovered that the fire ... it was due to the faulty wiring. Dad put some in a college fund for me. That’s ... that’s the money Mom had drained. And she had a lot of money—hundreds of thousands that she had to have blown through.” My fingers eased off the blanket. “Dad left not even a year later. He couldn’t deal.”

“Fucker,” muttered Jax.

My eyes opened wide and I started to defend my dad, but stopped myself. Yeah, he was kind of a fucker. I’d accepted that long ago. The next breath I took was easier. “I’ve never talked to anyone about this. Not even my friends at home. It’s not like I haven’t ... dealt with it, because I have. I was young when all of this happened and I still miss my brothers. It’s just so damn sad.”

“It is.”

Our gazes met, and I felt my heart turn over heavily in my chest. I knew he wasn’t done.

“I know this isn’t the only thing.” He lifted a hand and trailed a finger along the length of my scar. “I know you have other scars.”

I couldn’t look away. Damn if I didn’t want to, but his gaze held me, and his eyes were warm, they were focused.

“And I know you were burned, Calla.” At that, my chest clenched with a mixture of embarrassment and relief. “I know you had surgeries and I know those surgeries stopped before they were supposed to.”

“Mom ... she ...”

“She got caught up in her own shit. She forgot or she couldn’t deal,” he confirmed. “She never really said why, and I know this doesn’t make anything better, but she felt a hell of a lot of guilt over it. That much is obvious.”

Yeah, that didn’t change anything. It never would. I didn’t know if that made me a cold bitch or not, but some things couldn’t be easily forgotten. They weren’t designed that way.

“I’ve never ... no one has ever seen the scars,” I said in a voice barely above a whisper. “They’re not pretty.”

“They’re a part of you.”

I nodded slowly. My thoughts where awhirl again as my gaze searched out his. He’d known from day one that there were a lot of scars I was hiding. Hell, he’d known before he even laid eyes on me, because of my mom and Clyde. I wasn’t sure what to think of them telling someone who had been a virtual stranger to me, but I couldn’t muster up the anger over that. I couldn’t dredge up any more emotion as I stared at him. “You like me.”

His lips twitched. “Not a news flash, honey. I like you, knowing that the scars are a part of you.”

“But how?” It wasn’t the first time I asked him this.

“I’ve already told you how.” Both hands were back on my waist again, and my breath caught. “I think it’s past time for me to just show you.”

My brows rose. “Show me?”

“Yeah, show you.”

His hands curved under my arms as he lifted me up, and I tightened my hold on my drink. He moved me until I was closer to the headboard, smack dab in the middle of the bed. He reached between us, took my fruit punch, and placed it on the nightstand.

Then he got down to the business of making it real obvious that he was into me.

Twenty-one

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