Page 41 of Attraction & Repulsion

Yet she didn’t move. She didn’t know why she couldn’t move. Carson peered down to see if her feet had fused to the pavement. They hadn’t. This was all her. Why wouldn’t she go in? So many why’s. She started to grow weary from asking herself why all the time.

Finally, she gave up. But before she reversed out of her spot, Carson promised herself she would try again.

Chapter fourteen

The ponderosa pines’ emerald needles rustled in the breeze, still green even in mid-October. Although, the forest floor was covered in fallen yellow needles. If this year’s monsoons had been generous, the ground would bear more saplings. Still, some were pushing through the lack of moisture and Carson silently cheered for them, hoping the baby trees would grow as big as their ancestors.

“We need another rainstorm. It feels too dry this year,” Carson said.

“I wonder if we’re going into another drought.” Jax wiped his hands together, ridding them of peanut dust, and took a swig of water. Carson drank as well, swishing the electrolyte-infused liquid around in her mouth, remoistening her tongue from the hot air.

They relaxed in the bed of his truck, leaning against the back of the cab. This ride hadn’t been as grueling as the first time they’d gone out. They’d taken a scenic trail through Thumb Butte’s forests. Luckily, no unseen wire had been strewn up to behead them.

Their dirt bikes rested just beyond the tailgate. The difference in size was almost comical. Carson’s looked like a children’s motorcycle compared to Jax’s beast of a machine.

Taking another chug of water, Carson thought about her attempt to go to counseling the day before. It was pathetic. Maybe if therapists held theirsessions in beautiful forests like this one, she’d be more willing to go.

“Did Luke ride dirt bikes?” Jax asked, drawing her attention back to him.

“No,” she said, cracking a smile. “He tried to get into it, but couldn’t.”

“When did you start riding then?”

“When I was a teenager. I taught myself how to ride.”

“Your parents didn’t care?”

Shaking her head, she said, “It was just my mom and I. And she didn’t care what I did. As long as I paid my portion of the rent, she didn’t ask questions.”

Disgust flashed across Jax’s face. “She made you pay rent?”

“It was better than sleeping in a car,” Carson said, unconcerned.

“Do you still talk to her?” His blue eyes grew in size, abashed at his question. “Dammit. I asked you an insensitive question. If my ma was here, she would smack me.”

The thought of Jax’s mother smacking him for something he said made Carson grin. “It wasn’t insensitive,” she assured him. “And no, I don’t talk to her. As soon as I turned seventeen, she was gone.”

“Oh.” It was clear that hundreds of questions were sitting on the tip of his tongue, trying to escape his lips. Carson indulged him.

“I was an accident. She was young and . . . exploring. Never did figure out which guy was my father. It wasn’t easy for her to raise a baby on her own.”

Jax pressed his lips into a thin line, displeased. Hoping to relieve him of his worry, Carson digressed. “What about you? When did you get your first dirt bike?”

The flat line of Jax’s lips curved up, creating slight lines on the outside of his eyes. Carson could see memories filling his mind. “I think I was eightwhen my brother Beau found a little Honda 50cc. We had no idea where he found it.” Then he leaned closer to her as if telling her a secret. “He probably stole it. The four of us boys took turns racing it around our front yard.”

She couldn’t help but match the grin that grew on his face. “Do your brothers still ride?”

“All but my youngest brother, Wyatt. When I was still living in Texas, Beau, Billy, and I would go all the time. I really miss it. I miss them.”

“It sounds like you have a close relationship with them,” she said.

Jax’s face grew serious. No, not serious; humble. “I do.” He spoke those words with reverence, as if he knew how blessed he was to have his family.

A bird whistled for its mate somewhere above, and the branches wrestled as another breeze blew in. Jax was picking at the water bottle’s label with his thumbnail when Carson spotted a tear in his jersey, near his shoulder. With the sewing kit at home, she could stitch it back together.

“I hope you get the chance to meet them one day,” he said, quietly.

The colors around Carson grew more vibrant. “Me too.”

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