Page 8 of Echoes in the Night

“Stop! Do not say it. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You’re gorgeous and I can barely keep my eyes off you. I don’t know who tried to tell you otherwise. But someone needs to seriously straighten them out. They better hope it’s not me.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Damn straight. You’ve got a gorgeous, curvy body and your smile is like sunshine. Having you here lights this cabin up like a holiday.”

Where has this man been all my life?

Chapter Five

Jax

I’m so pissed, I’m seeing red. Keeping my eyes fixed on my food I take another bite. This is exactly why I need to stay away from people. Some motherfucker body shamed her. I want to school them with my fist.

“Jax, is something wrong?” She’s studying me from across the table.

“No. Well yeah. I don’t like it when people belittle others. Make fun of them. Shit happens in everyone’s life that is out of our control. And some things should always be off limits.

“This whole thing you hear about people, kids, making fun of others on social media and at school… well it’s wrong.”

Her expression softens. “Did people make fun of you?”

Releasing a sigh, I glance at her. Pushing my now empty plate aside, I look at hers. “You finish your meal, every bite, and I’ll answer all your questions, starting with that one.”

Standing, I grab my plate. “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee this time.” She looks me in the eye and takes a bite of her burger, smiling as she chews.

Later we’re on opposite ends of the loveseat. She’s covered with one of Grams small quilts. Taking a sip of her coffee, she raises an eyebrow. “So, tell me about you.”

“Spent summers with my Gramps for as long as I can remember. My parents weren’t really into the parenting thing. They were already living separately the summer they divorced. Both showed up in town to ‘drop’ me off at Gramps’. They had a big public fight in the town square how neither one of them wanted me. Gramps stepped in, dragged them straight to the courthouse and got custody of me. He demanded they both put money into a savings account to be used for college. And to never darken his doorstep again.”

“Have you ever seen them again?”

“Nope and won’t. I got awarded a couple medals and I got letters from both parents. I threw them away unopened.”

I pause and look at all the books. “Grandma was already gone so it was just Gramps and I. We worked side by side on everything. We read and talked about the books, took care of our land, and chopped wood. He’d tell me about his days as a scout in the military and take me on rescues.

“As you know, our town is small and was even smaller in those days. My family was the talk of the town at the time and everyone knew my parents didn’t want me. Kids, well they ridicule what they don’t understand, tease. I got good grades, was on the baseball, football and track teams, but didn’t hang around town. The jocks were jealous when an ‘outsider’ became quarterback. But their parents sure liked it when we won.

“Gramps did a lot of work with the sheriff back then. His son, Clay, is the current sheriff. He was a couple years younger than me, but I’d see him with his dad and the two of us got along. Clay did his time in the military too, so we understand each other.

“Guess I’m a little bit of a loner by nature, so I just did my work and graduated. Joined the military. I’d come back everytime I got leave, people in town would recognize me but most shied away. Clay watched the place for me the last three years of my enlistment. I’d come home when I could.”

I study my cup. I need to tell her. But damn, this hurts. Clearing my throat I meet her gaze head on. “Like I said before, my PTSD is mild. It started about three years ago due… due to a pretty bad mission. I’ve never been violent because of it, or out of control. I just kind of turn in on myself until the feelings pass. When a memory hits me, I sometimes hear things that aren’t there.

“Honestly, the episodes don’t last more than a few minutes. It’s… It’s just disruptive, frustrating that I can’t control it.”

There, it’s out in the open. I study her reaction.

“That’s why you said it took you a few minutes to realize the voice was real. You thought you were having an episode?”

I nod.

She tilts her head. “I’ve seen your kitchen and your bathroom drawers. That must be hard for someone like you who is organized and in control of everything around them. Have you always been like that or is it a side effect of the PTSD?”

Well, she’s not running screaming into the night. That’s a good thing. “I’ve always been detailed and analytical. It’s what makes me a good scout. Those traits have also been helpful in not overreacting to the memories when they hit. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Maura.”

She smiles. “I’m not Jaxon. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe. My family wasn’t much different. My dad was a controlling asshole, and my mom was as absent as possible. I couldn’t wait to get away to college.”

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