Page 32 of Fox
“Baby, listen to me.” His soft grip goes firm as he pulls my face closer to his. His eyes flicker ever so slightly to my mouth before locking with my gaze again. “You are strong, you will get through this, and I will not leave you alone, you got it? I’ll be right there.” I shake my head over and over as I sob harder.
“You will leave me!” I cry out, my head falling to his chest. “Everyone leaves me, Fox. What makes you so different?” His warm, strong arms wrap around me and pull me into his chest as his mouth finds my ear.
“The difference,” he whispers softly. “Is that I know that pain, and I know that fear. And I would die before I allowed someone else to feel it because of me. Especially you, Torch.”
Fox opensthe passenger door to his black pickup truck, and I’m only mildly aware of his large hands on my lower back and side as he helps me in. I feel numb, and there is zero chance I can recap much of anything from the last two hours. I foolishly didn’t listen to Fox, and I took my phone into the office with us, and it wouldn't stop going off. The rapid dings, vibrations, and phone calls every couple of seconds were constant, and I just couldn’t take them anymore. I freaked out, and while the man was reviewing the paperwork, I screamed and threw my phone across the lobby, cracking the screen. After that, Fox turned my phone off and stuck it in his jeans pocket.
I wish I could say that was my only freakout, but it wasn’t. They wanted me to select Dad’s urn. When that man handed me the tablet with the different options, I lost it. I really don’t remember any of it other than screaming and crying against Fox. It was too much, and I completely shut down. But true to his word, when I shut down, Fox took over. He talked to the people and, I guess, chose the urn, and now he’s helping me into his truck because between my short stature, his high truck, and the fact that I’m zoned out, shaking, and have a death grip on the small brown box that says,HUMAN REMAINS - PIERCE, TONY, I am completely useless.
The ride is silent as he drives us back to my apartment. My brain is short-circuiting. I’m thinking a thousand thoughts and no thoughts at the same time. All the while, I cannot let go of Dad. I have him clutched to me like he’s my lifeline. Like if I grip this box tight enough, he will return with his big voice, loud laugh and protective heart.
Six pounds.
That’s what my larger-than-life father has been reduced to. His blue eyes that perfectly matched mine, his wit and wisdom. His intimidating frame but teddy bear’s heart. His light, his love, his protection. It’s all been reduced to this small box that weighs six pounds.
I shake harder as memories start taking over. The bedtime stories, our coloring sessions, the pizza, and the movies. The tattoo he had on top of his hand that I did at nine. My name with a winky face over thei.That tattoo is gone now.
“Dad, are you serious?”I whisper hopefully as I watch my grinning dad laugh and shake his head while looking at Uncle Arlo.
“I mean, she’s old enough to create my logo. I think she can give me a tattoo, right Arlo?” I look from Dad to Uncle Arlo as the man chuckles.
“Ah shit, I’d trust her to give me a solid piece over your ass.”
“Hey now!” Dad laughs before looking back at me. “Alright, Lil’ J, you ready, sweetie?”
“Oh my god! Yes!” I squeal while cleaning my hands and sitting on Dad’s stool. I shave the top of his hand like I’ve watched him do so many times before placing the stencil. I remove the backing before looking from him to Uncle Arlo. "Look alright?" I ask hopefully.
Dad smiles as he stares at my name and laughs at the winky face I put over the “I.” “It’s perfect. The only name I’ll ever put on me, and the only name tattoo this shop will see.” I get to work on the piece, noticing how different it feels doing it on real skin. Once satisfied, I cleaned the piece off and looked at my dad.
“Do you like it?” Dad grins as he stares down at the piece before hugging me.
“Perfect Lil’ J. It’s perfect.” He shows his hand to Uncle Arlo, who slaps me on the back. “My girl is a fucking natural, the next Pierce tattoo artist!”
“Janie!”Fox’s booming voice and firm hands on my arms snap me back into reality. Blinking several times, I see the tears all over my shaking hands and my dad’s box. Glancing up, I notice we’re parked and Fox is standing at the truck's passenger side. Wait, why are we in his driveway?
“What?” I manage out. I feel like I can’t get a breath, and my chest is tight and on fire. Fox’s eyes dart back and forth, his brows knitted together so tight there’s only a deep line separating them. He looks so panicked, and I can’t figure out why. What did I miss?
“You’ve been sobbing and shaking for ten minutes without responding to me.” His warm hand cups my cheek, and the second he makes contact, it feels like I’m being wrapped in one of those anxiety blankets. That one gesture makes me feel so safe, and I never want to lose it.
“W-why are we at your house?” I ask softly as he helps me out of the truck.
“Well, besides the fact that I’m not leaving you alone in this condition.” He states, gesturing to me. “Did you not see the front of your apartment?”
I blink and try to think. I don’t even remember driving away from the crematorium. I shake my head slowly, and he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Janie, there was a mob of people trying to get into your building. How do your followers know where you live? I thought all of that was private.”
My head spins, and my legs begin to tremble. It’s too much. It’s all too much. There’s a loud ringing in my ears, and I feel myself starting to fall, but Fox’s strong arms catch me and lift me up. I rest my head against his firm chest and listen to his heartbeat as he begins to walk. The warmth and safety I feel in his arms are enough to make me want to fall asleep. I’m almost embarrassed to admit that I dread him letting me go. Walking inside, Fox sits me on his oversized brown couch before kneeling in front of me.
“How about I take this box and—”
“No.” I interrupt, my tone sharper than I intend. “No,” I repeat softer, almost as a plea, while I grip the box tighter. “I… I’m not ready to…to…”
“Shh,” he whispers, running a thumb over my cheek. I look at him, and my walls crumble entirely. I know he sees it by the pained look on his face. I release the loudest sob as I stare at him.
“I want my dad.” I cry out, and in an instant, he pulls me back into his chest, his arms wrapping firmly around me.
“It’s okay, baby doll,” I feel him pressing his lips to the top of my head. “Let it out. I’ll keep you safe.” I let out a scream from somewheredeepinside my broken heart and shattered soul.
