Page 87 of Roots of the Wicked

“I appreciate that, Max.”

The first thing I was going to do was call Jax and let her know what had been discovered. I was also going to write a check in Max’s name, to a charity of his choosing, since he didn’t need or want the money.

***

Jax

What was wrong with me? My running app was telling me I had gone just under two miles. Why was I so sluggish? My attempt to shake off the fatigue didn’t work. Turning my music up and slowing my pace didn’t work either.

Foot traffic in the park today was minimal, just the way I liked it. Running had always been one of my outlets, a form of therapy. It was my saving grace, when I had no other options. It even kept me company when I was the loneliest. I would run until I was so exhausted, I would collapse into a dreamless sleep.

I slowed my choppy pace and stood on the outskirts of the path I ran on. No other runners lingered on the spiraling and beautiful wooded trail, so I stood in place and caught my breath.

The insects serenaded with a lullaby as a light wind left feathery kisses against my cheeks. The earthy scent of pine and a flowery blossom teased my nostrils. Why wasn’t this perfect scenery setting the tone for my therapy run?

During my short affair with Chase, my exercise routine had been sliced in half, but with all the sex we’d been having, it must have evened things out because I hadn’t gained an ounce.

Not being around him was proving that Chase had left a profound impression on me. Despite what he had done and my feelings on the matter, I still missed him. So much so, I made myself sick thinking about him. Every time, those three words, “I love you,” crept into my head, nausea followed because a part of me believed he meant them.

He’d wiggled his way into my heart, but I was never letting him know how much he had gotten under my skin, and how much he made me care for him.

What if he is innocent? Lena’s probing question kept echoing in my head, making me second guess my actions.

A surge of pain climbed from the bottom of my stomach and inched to the top before it crawled up my esophagus. The bowl of cereal from last night’s dinner was threatening to make a second appearance. The retching sting of the bile burned my throat, forcing me to bend at the waist as I spit and gagged.

Here I was, surrounded by nature’s beauty, hugging a tree. Sick about a man I was only supposed to be having a good time with. I heaved deep and hard, my throat clutching nothing but the air I was sucking in.

Sex was all there should’ve been between me and Chase, yet I had sat at his table and had dinner with his family. I had been on his yacht. I had shared my controlling ways with him.

Everything inside me was projected out, until I was left dry heaving. The painful quakes were slow to cease as they battered my body.

My tight grip on the tree loosened so I could lean against it for support. It took great effort on my part to breathe the nausea away. I removed my baseball cap and used it to fan my hot face.

After minutes of praying, the ugly feeling started to subside, but I was forced to take a seat at a random bench before I made my slow trek back to my apartment. Although the media hype had died down, I adopted the habit of dressing in oversized clothing as an extra precaution. Thankfully, September in New York welcomed the arrival of some fall attire.

What the hell was wrong with me? My mental health was questionable before I met Chase, but now my physical health was starting to suffer as well. Was Chase so addictive that I was having withdrawal?

Once back home, I scanned my living room, no doubt resembling a crazed lunatic. I didn’t know what I was searching for, but I’d stepped inside and stood in place. I was hoping that something in the space would give me an answer to all the questions taring me apart.

I shuffled toward my couch, after locking my door and fell into the soft cushions. I eased into a relaxed state but my thoughts sprang up and reminded me I’d let a man do this to me.

My body was fighting itself. It craved Chase with an insatiable hunger. His never-ending caresses, the sound of his voice, and the quick little kisses he had a habit of placing all over my face and neck.

Screw him!I wanted him one minute, wanted to kill him the next, and to fuck him after that. Closing my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. How the hell does one get over someone they had fallen for?

My phone drew my attention. I swiped the face to find a message with a video attached. After reading the threatening message, urging me to stay away from Chase, it took me a moment to believe what I was watching.

Nausea and lightheadedness struck at the same time, causing me to sway as I struggled to stay upright. My phone tumbled to the floor from my shaking hands. I slumped into the couch, leaning into the cushions for support.

My father told me there may come a time, when I may be forced to stay away from Chase. Just when I had talked myself into taking Chase up on one of his request to meet up and talk, with this call, life had been breathed into my father’s prediction.

I sat immobile, my watery gaze stuck on my dropped phone as my ten-year-old terrified eyes stared back at me. My worst nightmare was playing out before my eyes, one-click away from being aired to the world.

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