Page 65 of Count On Me

Jaxson

I have to wipe a tear from my eye and my pops shouts that real men cry and everyone laughs. My brothers are by my side, because I can’t choose between them, with Penny acting as the officiant. I’ve even written my vows, but I won’t tell you those until our day.

Jaxson

Because there will be a wedding, Eddie. And it’ll be the best fucking wedding there ever was. I love you, future Mrs. Brady. Hawaii.

Tears stream down my cheeks and my heart thuds in my chest. I want to phone him and tell him to come to me, but I can’t. Something holds me back. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I can’t take it. But I miss him. I love him, and I know he’s hurting too, but I just feel a little broken right now. I know I should tell him this, explain it so he understands, but I can’t. Not right now.

A memory of a young Jaxson offering his hand to help me climb the tree in his garden plays in my mind. His hair falling onto his forehead, his blue eyes twinkling and his smile making his dimples pop. And it hits me—he’s always been there. I need to let him be there now, even if it’s only a phone call.

Pulling in a deep breath, I hit the call button on my phone. Two rings later, his voice, filled with hope and despair, fills my ears.

“Hi.”

Closing my eyes to stem the tears at hearing his voice does nothing.

“Hi. I’m sorry...” My voice wobbles as I try to collect my emotions enough to convey what I need to to him.

“Please don’t tell me it’s over, Edie.” His words come out strangled and I hug the phone to my ear, desperate to soothe him but also needing to shield my heart.

“I need time, Jax. I’m sorry,” I manage to whisper out to him.

“Don’t be sorry. As long as I still have a chance with you, I’ll wait forever. You’re worth it.” A small smile tips the corners of my mouth up as I let him finish.“Can I text you still? I hate not talking to you, Eddie. You calm me, soothe me and make me feel whole. Without you, nothing makes sense.” He pauses and takes a breath before finishing with, “But this isn’t about me. Whatever I need to do to make things right by you, I’ll do. You can count on me. Whatever you need. But if you’d rather I didn’t text, I won’t. ”

He’s saying all the right things, and I want so much to be able to get over this, but I need time. I can’t shake the thought that every time I get my hopes up, I get hurt. This time physically as well as mentally. But the idea of not speaking to him, hearing from him, sends a wave of panic through me and I find myself nodding even though he can’t see me.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Okay don’t or okay do? I need a couple more words, Edie,” he says through a small chuckle.

“Okay do. But not too many, one or two a day. Let me sort my head out please?” I cradle the phone to my ear and hold my breath as I wait for his response.

“Okay. Thank you, baby. And just to remind you, in case you forget or start to doubt, you’ve always been my everything.You’re the beginning, the middle, and the end for me. And I’ll do more. So much more for you. I love you, my Eddie.”

Without letting me respond, he hangs up.

Placing my phone on the nightstand, I lay back against the pillows and let my head argue with my heart. Forgive and forget? Or move on. Right now I’m not sure which is going to win, but I hope it’s my heart.

41

JAXSON

ONE MONTH LATER

The treadmill comes to an abrupt stop and I yank out my earbud, slamming my hand on the control panel. All the lights are off on it. I curse loudly and look around to see what the fuck is going on. My irritated glare lands on Lockheart, the power cord in his hands.

“What the fuck, Bro?” I yell at him, the music still blaring in the remaining earbud making me shout louder than necessary.

“We need a chat. Upstairs in fifteen minutes. Shower first,” Lockheart tells me and walks out of the room. The last fucking thing I need is an intervention from the brother I never asked for. I’ve avoided my real brothers and Penny for this very reason. But instead of sulking in the private gym, I head to the bathroom and ignore the mirrors in there. I don’t need them telling me how bad I look right now. I already know.

Everything went to shit the day Edie got hurt. My facial hair is bordering on beard territory. My hair is an unruly mess because I refuse to sit in a chair and make small talk about Jordan with local gossip mongers. Apart from training and matches, I barely leave Lockheart’s house. The press are still hounding me for the story even though they’ve pieced togetherenough of it already. They just don’t understand why we were fighting in the first place.

Thankfully Jordan accepted all the charges against him. He’s looking at a long time in prison and it’s the best possible outcome. For all of us. I don’t know what I’d do if I came face to face with him. He hurt Edie. Laid his hands on her. Made her bleed. Fuck!

The anger swirls around my head and I take deep breaths to rid myself of it. Just like the therapist said I should. I fought against therapy at first, but finally gave in after Coach suggested it—read: highly encouraged if I wanted to continue playing. And I’m glad I finally listened to him. It’s been the best thing I ever did. They’ve helped me let go of some of the guilt and learn to live with the rest of it.

I arranged for Edie to have some sessions with them too, but I don’t know if she took them up. I can’t ask the therapist since it’s an infringement on her privacy and I can’t ask her because I promised I’d only text her about ‘normal’ things. And only once a day. It’s been killing me, but I’ve stuck to that as well.

---