Page 49 of Study Games

“No. It doesn't. But your brother’s debt, the one that was really worth something? That’s what caused this.” Jax tapped the edges of my bandages lightly, careful not to touch the slices that ached beneath.

I released a shuddering breath. “What?”

His face turned as expressionless as a glass pane, though far less transparent. “Crush and I visited with your brother.”

“Vincent?”

He glared at me, the facade shattering. “Is there another I should be aware of?”

“You shouldn’t be in contact with my family at all!” I snapped, slapping at him again.

That hurt like fuck too, but I refused to let out a groan even when my stomach swam and my vision blurred.

His glare softened, inked fingers rising to brush tears from my cheeks the moment they fell. “He– had a shit war,” Jax murmured, watching me carefully. “Have you spoken to him lately?”

“I–” I stopped. “No,” I whispered. My hand closed around his. “I’m a bad sister.”

“No. You’re a good girl, and he’s a shit person,” Jax said fiercely. He blew out a breath, glaring over his shoulder at a nurse who tried to come in. “Two minutes, ma’am. This goes towards why she–” He cleared his throat and grazed his thumb over my bandages again.

The nurse scuttled away under his glare, ostensibly to collect a higher echelon or doctor.

If it gave me the next moments with Jax alone before my peace with him was blown to hell, I'd take it. Because right now, nothing made sense in my addled brain.

“You said your father bought my debt. My brother– Jesus,” I said slowly, forcing my brain to churn the disgusting thought over. “How much, Jax?”

“Enough.” He kissed my temple as the doctor strode in and fixed his eyes on Jax, who ignored him.

“How much?” I insisted, holding up my free hand to the doctor, begging for one more second.

He relented, and took a weary step back.

Must be that sort of day for everyone, then. I was sorry to add to his payload of bullshittery.

Jax held me close for a second. “I paid my father off.” His soft words struck ice through my heart.

“At what cost?” I insisted.

“Miss Alloway, we need to discuss–” the poor, ignored doctor started.

“Just, could we have a minute, please?” I begged. My ego didn’t care. Jax was hurting, and that meant I hurt, too.

“Right now, your mental health is critical.” The doctor tapped his clipboard. “I’d like to know if I can send you home. I’ve heard some wild stories. Perhaps you can corroborate for me.”

“But, I–” I stared beseechingly between Jax and the doc.

Jax took the opportunity to slink away, leaving me alone as fresh tears fell.

The doctor talked, and I answered, but I didn’t remember any of the words. Not that he let me go home that night, or the next, or the next.

And I didn’t see Jax for any of those days, either.

But I knew he was doing the very much chivalrous, not at all a bad boy thing, paying that debt he talked about to the man that my phone, when I was allowed to have it back courtesy of Celia, told me the man who hurt me was the worst of the worst in our state.

Maybe the country.

So I didn’t need to ask what he was out there doing, because I knew.

I fucking knew, just as I knew he wasn’t the liar, the cheat, the bad boy ripping through a rich kid college like I always accused him of being. No, he was the damaged offspring of a family he didn’t choose but was laden with anyway, and now he bore the brunt of mine.

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