Page 33 of Attraction & Repulsion

“Let me go! Luke! Wake up! Luke!” Her cries echoed around the intersection.

“Hey, hey, hey. Shhh,” Jax’s voice pleaded, trying to subdue her screams. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Yes. This was where Jax was supposed to be, cradling her as she sobbed into his shoulder.

As she was pulled farther and farther away, Luke’s body grew smaller and smaller. Eventually, Carson’s arms grew heavy and tired from reaching out to him. She stopped and latched onto Jax, who was lowering her onto the awaiting stretcher, which might as well have been a coffin. Restraints were strapped across her body, yet she could only focus on Jax.

“Please,” she whispered.

People bustled around them as Jax hovered over her. His hand was in hers. Grip just as desperate. It was plain on his face that this wasn’t her nightmare. It was horrifically real—

The gasp violently attacked Carson’s lungs when she awoke. She couldn’t breathe. Air. She needed air. But she was still in the clutches of the arms that tore her away from Luke. Disoriented, she twisted and writhed until she realized she was contorted in her own blankets.

Gathering herself, she unfolded her limbs from the silks and plopped onto the floor. For whatever reason, the air seemed thinner and fresher near the carpet. But that didn’t dispel the dream still playing in her head.

He had been there.

So many first responders rushed to do their jobs. Jax’s job was to take care of her.

Jax had been there.

Two days ago, when they’d ridden dirt bikes down by the river, he had asked about Luke. But Carson had never said Luke’s name in front of himbefore. How else would he know?

Because Jax had been there.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Carson’s thunderous fist against the front door broke the quiet morning of the neighborhood. The lizard on the wooden railing waiting for the warmth of the sun, scurried away. It probably would have been a smart idea to have peeked in the garage window for Jax’s truck to confirm that he was home before she knocked.

After she had collected herself from the nightmare, she’d snuck into the office, riffled through the file cabinet stuffed with client folders until she found “MILLER-Jax,” and tapped his address into her phone. She needed to confront him. She needed to know the truth.

If Jax really had responded to her accident, then he would have witnessed her in her most vulnerable state. Carson wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was unnerving for him to know the moment that had completely shattered her world but not say anything for the past two months, not even during dinner last night.

A Texas flag hung lazily off the front porch. Jax was from Texas, right? Hadn’t the auctioneer mentioned something about Texas and big . . .

A gulp slid down Carson’s throat. This had to be the right place.

Still no answer. Again, she thumped her closed fist against the door. Was he on shift? She didn’t think so. It would have been better to have sent a text or called him instead of showing up to his house, slamming on the door at the crack of dawn. But she needed to talk to himin person. This wasn’t something to text about.

The door swung wide open, creaking on its hinges. Jax’s hair was wild and restless. He rubbed the palm of his hand against one eye, while the other was a thin slit against the morning sun.

He was also shirtless. The tattooed octopus on his shoulder greeted her good morning. His gray sweatpants were barely hugging his hips. They looked like they would fall off at any moment. Carson’s vision trailed down his abs to the v-lines just below his waist. She gulped again.

“Carson?” His voice was gruff, sleepy, like he hadn’t had a chance to clear his throat of snores and dreams.

“Were you there?” Carson asked, getting right to the point. No reason to waste time.

It was clear Jax didn’t need an explanation, as his hand dropped from his face and he stepped aside, motioning for her to enter.

Marching past him, Carson entered his living room. A ridiculously large flat screen hung on the wall to her left. A cord like a skinny tail from the bottom was wedged into an outlet. Surprisingly, his house didn’t smell like the dust she’d expected. Instead, the smell reminded her of the carpet section at Home Depot. When she turned to face him, a muddy pair of boots sat on the floor next to the front door and dozens of keys overfilled a single hook hanging on the wall.

After shutting the door, Jax moved to a graphite-colored sectional against the opposite wall of the television and sat on the edge of the cushions. His movements were slow. He hunched forward and leaned his elbows on his knees for support, as if some unseen burden was weighing him down.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Carson asked, her voice barely audible.

He waited a moment, eyes on the floor, before looking up. “I didn’trecognize who you were at first. It wasn’t until that night at the auction, when you told me that your husband and son were killed in a car accident, that I figured it out. It was clear you didn’t recognize me either. I never felt it was right to remind you.”

Remind?Carson thought about the accident every second of every day.

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