Page 96 of Sinning for Santa

“Can’t do what?” I cup her face so she can’t look anywhere but at me, desperately wanting to ease her mind, although I’m not sure what from exactly.

Is it her fiancé, her dad, or Dr Xavier that has her so panicked?

“I can’t do that again. I can’t go through that.” She tries to shake her head, but my hands hold her in place. “Oh my god, are there more messages?”

“Yes,” I sigh. “Are you sure you want to listen to them?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I need to know what’s happening.”

Needing a moment, I press my forehead to hers, and the way her lids flutter closed shows me how much she trusts me. She’s not scared of me. But she is scared of those voicemails.

Sighing, I ease back and release my grip on her face, pressing play on the next message.

Message Received from: Mum

“Jaxcen darling, it’s your mother. Your father told me what’s happening. Please stop misbehaving. This isn’t acceptable. You’re about to be married, sweetheart. You can’t treat your future husband like this. And those explicit websites… Oh Jaxcen. Why would you look at them? Edward sent your father the links. Why would you watch such depraved behaviour? Are you taking drugs? That has to be it. Oh dear. We’ll have to call Dr Xavier.”

A loud sob escapes her as her mum speaks, and she slaps her hand over her mouth, shaking her head, her eyes pleading with me.

“Please no. No, no no. I can’t do it. I can’t.”

“Hey.” I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her. “Shhhh, love. It’ll be alright. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

And fuck. The words are the truest thing I’ve spoken in a long time. I know she has to leave here eventually, but I’ll be fucked if I send her back into their lives.

“Why would he do this?” She sobs, and I let her vent, I let her cry, and not once do I break my hold on her. Not once do I let her feel alone.

“Jax,” I plead as she falls quiet, easing back to look at her red puffy eyes, and tear stained cheeks. “I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She nods, although I’m not sure if she believes me. Not really.

“Ithink that’s enough,” I say, not wanting to put her through any more, but she shakes her head.

“No,” she barks, batting at her tears. “How many messages are there?”

“Two more,” I admit, and she clears her throat and sits taller, trying to compose herself.

“I want to hear them.”

“Maybe later—”

“No. Now!” She glares and I give in, nodding before I press play once again.

Message Received from: Presley

“Jax, what the fuck? The olds are freaking the fuck out and are on the phone to that psycho doctor they sent you to when you were little. You know I don’t care what you do, hell, I fucking love porn, but don’t let them get their clutches into you again. I can’t bear to see them kill your spark. Not again. Not ever.

“I will try to stall them on my end, but pack a bag and go somewhere. Anywhere they can’t find you. Don’t use your bank card. If they involve the cops they can track that.

“Shit, Jax. I love you sis. Please stay safe.”

This time, her tears are different. Her expression morphs into love and longing.

“Your sister?” I ask, and she nods, smiling at me through her tears.

“Presley. She’s my big sister.” She shrugs. “You’d probably like her better than me. Most people do.”

I frown. “Fuck that,” I snap, and her eyes go wide. “She’s not you, so no, I won’t like her more than you. Fucking ever.”

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