Wrecked (Dirty Air 3) - Page 34

I pull out a puzzle box from my bag and place it on the glossy tabletop in front of me. The moment Jax mentioned a private jet, I asked if I could purchase a few things to keep myself entertained over the weeks of flying. He looked at me weird and said to have at it.

I sort the pieces in groups based on edges versus normal pieces. The task is calming, with me getting lost in the arranging process.

My body prickles with awareness. I turn to find Jax staring at me, his usual scowl replaced by a small smile. On command, my cheeks flush at his appraisal. He holds my gaze when our eyes meet, trapping me in a temporary hypnosis. It feels like he wants to let me in for a moment, showing me someone different than the one I’ve seen over the past three weeks.

Something about the way he looks at me entices me to invite him. “Want to join?” I smile as I flash him a puzzle piece.

He shakes his head, replacing his smile with a frown. “No.”

My smile flattens. “Okay.” I turn back toward the table, resuming my task.

“Maybe next week.” He speaks low, making me think I misheard him.

I say nothing. Maybe next week he gives me a chance, even if it’s in silence while working together. Jax’s mind is nothing like the thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle in front of me. He’s one I’ll have the hardest time putting together, wondering if it’s worth even trying.

I spend what feels like hours organizing the pieces by color groups. The stunning photo of hot-air balloons mock me, all happy colors and a bright day. My chest burns at the sight of the breathtaking festival.

I envy the kind of freedom hot-air balloons have. They’re not bogged down by responsibilities and extra baggage like me.

I don’t know what pushed me to choose this puzzle. By the end of the flight, I promise myself I’ll go to a hot-air balloon festival. Not because of the beauty or the rarity of it, but because I want it to represent me moving on.

From my past. From my pain. And from the creeping emptiness threatening my future.

11

Elena

“I’m going out.” Jax walks toward the main door of our Sochi hotel room.

“Uh, with whom? I thought we were staying in.” I lift from the couch. We agreed to not go out while adjusting to the jet lag after flying from Bahrain to Sochi.

“You’re staying in. I’m going to hang out with my friends.”

My eyes scan his face to gauge his seriousness. “You can’t leave without me. We have a deal.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes. “For fuck’s sake. I want to hang out with my friends, knock back a beer or two, and catch up before our practice rounds tomorrow. It’s not exactly a rager.”

“What friends?”

“I can’t believe I have to explain myself like this.” He lets out a deep breath. “Noah, Liam, and Santiago. We plan on staying in this very hotel. If you’re so damn worried about me ruining the image you’ve been working on, don’t be.”

I sigh. “It’s part of my job to make sure you stay out of trouble.”

“Well, seeing as my friends all have squeaky clean reps now, I doubt I can muster up too much bad press.”

“Are you asking for me to trust you?”

“To want your trust means I’d have to care. And honestly, with you, I could care less.”

“Couldn’t care less. If you’re going to insult me, make sure you’re being grammatically correct. It tends to pack a bigger punch.”

Jax turns and grips the handle of the door. His back rises to match his ragged breaths. “You can trust me to not go off to a club or get drunk tonight. I only want a night with my friends. No stress, no girlfriends around them. Just a normal night to forget.”

?

??Forget what?” I whisper the words.

“To forget what it feels like to worry every damn day of my bloody life.”

Tags: Lauren Asher Dirty Air Romance
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