Page 18 of Savage

Chris automatically shut the book and looked across at me with a faraway look.

“So how was your meeting with Jessica, Wynter?” my mother questioned as she nibbled on a lettuce leaf.

“Not bad. She didn’t go for my arson piece, but she offered me another project,” I began excitedly, taking a drink of water. This pricked up Chris’s ears.

“How so?” he questioned, taking an interest. I could see from his father’s expression that he appreciated his youngest son’s effort.

I shuffled back in my seat, lowering my fork. “They have asked me to do an article on mental health issues in the military,” I replied.

Marcus sat up straighter in his chair. “Wowzer, that’s a meaty project. Are you sure you want to go there? It won’t be easy to write about.”

Nodding, I chewed the lasagne I had just forked into my mouth and then cleared my throat. “I know. I’ve done some research already. I want to get into it though, thoroughly. Raise more awareness. Jessica says I am good at writing gritty stuff.”

Daisy was listening to me but her eyes never left the face of her husband, talk about smitten. They were probably playing footsie under the table.

“Well, I can probably get you access to the base. Maybe you could speak to some soldiers that are currently serving. You can’t have access to their files but I could pull some strings and ask for volunteers to chat to you about their experiences,” Marcus said and another surge of excitement whooshed through me. I knew he’d be supportive. Daisy looked like she wanted to launch herself onto his lap and rain kisses on his face. As Jason had pointed out during the row with his father in the kitchen, they were very tactile.

“Marcus, that’s so sweet of you,” she said with a bright, appreciative expression. She was so pretty; it wasn’t a surprise that her new husband was all over her like a rash.

“That would be super, Marcus. Thank you. Do you think they’d talk to me though?”

His eyes creased as he grinned saying, “When they see you, of course. They’ll be queuing up to offload all their problems.”

Chris’s nose was wrinkled in distaste. “Hmm, exactly. Maybe I should go with you? Just in case anyone gets any ideas,” he offered. He was such a gentleman.

“No need. Marham is the closest base. I’ll speak to Jaxon.”

That excitement I’d felt sunk to the bottom of my stomach. Great. That was so not what I wanted.

“I doubt he’ll want to help me, Marcus. But thank you anyway,” I sighed, accepting that his suggestion probably wouldn’t come to pass now.

He exchanged a look with his son. “Don’t worry, leave it to me. I’ll have a word.”

Nodding, I smiled my thanks. We then all moved on to another subject. Chris explained that he was reading about the human brain. He lit up, you’d have thought he was talking about the most exciting thing ever. I suppose for someone who wanted to become a doctor, he was.

Then the reason for the sudden dinner get-together was dropped into the room like a bombshell.

My mother was pregnant. Daisy and Marcus were going to have a child together. So much for Jaxon’s comments about it not lasting. They said it was early days and that Daisy had yet to have the pregnancy confirmed by the Doctor, but that they wanted to share the news straight away. And then it struck me why Jaxon was absent from the meal. Marcus had already told him.

*****

After dinner, I helped load the dishwasher, wondering how Jaxon had taken the news and where he was. He hadn’t gone out as I could see his car parked in its usual space in front of the house. Was he sulking in his room? I had popped up there and placed my ear against the wood of the door but it had been silent. Had his father snapped and sent him to the Coach House after hearing the way he spoke to me on the stairs? It was now eerily dark and there was no way I was venturing out there to look.

My father and mother were in the cinema room watching a movie and so I steered clear, not wanting to be roped into watching the sappy stuff they enjoyed together. I assumed Chris was in his bedroom reading. As I walked down the various corridors, I decided to go down into the basement where the gym and sauna were.

As I trotted barefoot down the stairs, I could hear a thumping noise. The light was on in the gym, it bathed the wooden floor of the corridor outside.

On tiptoes, I moved towards the doors which had been left open. The room had mirrors along all walls and held a variety of athletic equipment there. The thudding got louder and as I got closer, I could see a large punching bag attached by a chain to the ceiling, swinging from impact.

My stomach lurched. You couldn’t help but stare. Jaxon was there, wearing ripped jeans. His feet were bare and he was shirtless. Fuck me, he looked sensational. I felt a strange throbbing sensation between my legs. His body was sheened in sweat as he jabbed aggressively at the bag. His fists were wrapped in tape and I watched mesmerised as he continuously punched the bag, hard. His face was full of pent-up violence which he was attempting to eradicate by being so physical.

He stopped suddenly as if sensing I was there. Common sense told me to turn and leave. Jaxon was angry and I was probably the last person he wanted to see. Was he imagining the bag was me?

“What the fuck do you want now?” he growled, turning his head towards where I stood in the doorway. I felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car, frozen.

The pulse in my neck quivered, “Are you OK?” I croaked. It felt like I was invading his privacy.

Jaxon closed his eyes briefly. “My dad got your mother sprogged up, what do you think?” he snapped, grabbing the swinging bag to hold it still. He looked mouth-watering, the room was lit quite dimly and shadows bounced across his muscled physique. He was pumped from his workout. My eyes skimmed over the silver bar in his manly nipple. That was the only item of jewellery I had ever seen him wear.

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