Page 33 of Savage

Jaxon smiled. “You have dirt on your nose.”

“Oh.” I raised my hand and rubbed at it.

“It’s gone.”

Jaxon stared down at me for a beat longer before turning away and setting off down the corridor. His strides were slow, he didn’t rush away and I watched how his backside flexed with each step. What the heck was that about? My emotions were all over the place. Jaxon disappeared into the room at the bottom of the corridor; I almost licked my lips, with an arse like that he should be wrapped in caution tape.

Rolling my eyes at my behaviour, I walked a few paces down the corridor and found his room. Inserting the key, I held my breath and pushed the door open, before shyly stepping inside. Butterflies were having a battle in my stomach. I was nervous to see where he slept.

Immaculate was the word that came to mind as I closed the door and observed the space. It was small and tidy with nothing out of place. The single bed was made up. It looked extremely hard and was covered by a basic dark green sheet. My skin prickled as I reluctantly stared at it, chewing the inside of my mouth. Dragging my gaze away, I spied the rest of the area. There were no pictures on the walls, just a dresser with cupboards, a wardrobe and a writing desk and chair. Pretty basic really. I could smell traces of Jaxon's musky scent and I inhaled, taking him into my nostrils.

A variety of books were standing on some shelves on the wall and I walked over to scrutinise the titles, astounded as I didn’t realise that he read. The Martian by Andy Weir was there and the boxset of James Herriot books almost floored me. I couldn’t imagine someone like Jaxon reading those types of stories. Mein Kampf was more like it.

Smiling at my joke, I revelled in the fact that I had unearthed something that had pleasantly surprised me about my stepbrother. Maybe he did have a personality I could climb on board with. One which didn’t stir up that urge to kick him in the nuts all the time.

I walked over to a corkboard which had various pictures pinned there. It didn’t take long for my gaze to fall on a picture of a beautiful woman. Her hair and eyes were the same as Jaxon's and Chris’s; it was a picture of their birth mother. The one who had died when Jaxon was younger. My chest squeezed tight and a surge of sympathy clutched me by the throat. He rarely spoke of her and I wondered if he missed her.

The other images were of his squaddie buddies and there was one of Jaxon at the gym with Nixon McKenna, my cousin Jenna’s husband. I had always thought Nixon was scary-looking, but he looked tamer in the image and he was smiling. Not something he did often. Jenna had explained that he’d been involved in a serious explosion when he’d been on tour. I fleetingly wondered if Jaxon had ever been injured. Yes, he was in the army, but he was part of the training core and so surely didn’t go to battle? Well, not as I knew.

It was at that moment that I realised that I had lived with him for around two years and still didn’t really know that much about his life. Was I a bitch for not investing in getting to know my new family? I pushed off the thought, accepting that ‘making an effort’ should work both ways. Jaxon had shown little interest in me and my mother. Whereas at least I had attempted to get to know his father and brother (even Molly to a certain extent). I probably would have done the same with Jaxon if he hadn’t been such a tool toward me. I let myself off the hook and directed the blame in his direction.

Walking away from the corkboard, I went to the bathroom, let myself in and freshened up. I’m not going to lie; I couldn’t ignore my inner compulsive streak, so I did rummage in a few cupboards. How could I not?

It was only when I unearthed a huge box of condoms (half empty) and was flooded with embarrassment that I told myself to stop being such a nosy cow.

Berating myself for feeling that need to quench my curiosity, I took off the damp top, shoved it into my bag and towelled myself off. I then pulled on a black tee of Jaxon’s I had found. It was fresh and the fabric softener was different from the one we used at home. It was dark grey and fell well above my knees.

My phone suddenly buzzed from within my rucksack which was on the floor by the bath and I rummaged inside and withdrew it. Sliding my fingertip across the screen, I had a WhatsApp from Dominic. He was asking about the interview which hadn’t happened yet.

It’s all good. Just about to go and meet two soldiers. I will call you later. I thumbed in.

Cool. Good luck and don’t take any of Jaxon’s bullshit. I smiled at that one and then the buffering icon to state he was still typing appeared.

Speak later. I need to talk to you as I’ve had an offer of an assignment and I’d like your advice. Dominic texted. Sounded ominous.

Cool. I replied before placing my phone back in my bag.

I checked my appearance in the mirror on the back of the door before exiting the room and relocking it. I then set off to find Jaxon and hopefully, the soldiers I would interview.

As I trotted down the corridor, I checked the front pocket of my rucksack and was relieved that I had packed my pencil and notepad.

When I entered the large room, Jaxon was speaking to a couple of soldiers. It was a common room as he had explained, with a kitchen at one end and an area for people to relax at the other. There were several weathered sofas, a flatscreen telly and a pool table in one corner.

I hovered in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt them but one of the soldiers saw me and smiled. This caused Jaxon to turn his head and as our eyes locked, heat jetted through me. What was going on with my body? That entire day it appeared to be detached from my head.

Beckoning me over, he introduced me to the two men. They were much older than Jaxon and I imagined they’d been in the army for quite some time.

Both explained that they thought that bringing mental health issues in the army out in the open was a good thing. They seemed keen and were extremely polite. They were perfect for my story and from the sound of things they had been soldiers long enough to have gained some baggage. Whatever that may be.

Jaxon thanked the men for taking part and told me I had an hour before we had to head back home. He then left us alone and they directed me over to the sofas. I declined their offer of a coffee as I was excited to get down to business and only had an hour to interview them.

Stuffing my rucksack onto the chair next to me, I pulled out my notebook and pen and my iPhone. I asked them if they were OK with me recording our discussion. I would still take notes, but it was good to have a backup. They were both in agreement.

And then we started the interview. I asked them questions, keeping things tame, nothing too intrusive at first. Just the usual, how long had they been serving and why did they sign up? They were both quite open and after around fifteen minutes, they told me about the harsher reality of serving in the military.

The subject both men returned to was that they had found being away from their families the hardest thing to deal with at first. Especially when they were newly recruited and hardly knew anyone. The isolation would make even the strongest of characters, feel lonely. They then explained the darker sides. The early starts and vigorous training regimes, the bullying and trying to fit in. Discipline was the main theme throughout each difficult theme. They spoke with passion about how they were drilled repeatedly, and trained to automatically obey an order no matter what they were instructed to do.

Sergeant Mitchell, the elder of the two explained that doing what you are ordered to do could be a case of life and death. I bit my lip at one point as both men explained how they’d been shot at during at least one of their tours. They had also lost friends, either due to injuries sustained whilst fighting or by suicide. I found it all extremely sad. Especially when the soldier named Sergeant Smith explained how he’d had to tell one of the families that both their twin sons had been killed in Beirut.

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