Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

“Sure, seeing as we did so well with the first one.” She turns to grab her purse off the kitchen counter.

Anger bubbles inside of me at her nonchalance. I’d be insulted and questioning my skills if it weren’t for the way she pressed her body against mine, practically begging for more. “What if I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen?” I blurt out.

Her shoulders drop as she sighs. “I’m not going to ruin your recovery over something like lust. You need stability, and something between us would be anything but.”

Even I know that’s true. I’m trying to get better and fight with the anxiety holding me back while she wants to build her business through helping me. And if I learned anything from my friends, it’s how wherever there’s lust like this, love is a risky side effect.

I hate how Elena is right. I hate it so much that I stay silent for the entire drive back to the hotel.

My anxiety wins again, fucking up my chance at something good. Elena and I wouldn’t be steady, but not for the reasons she thinks. Relationships—even the physical kind—need a basic level of trust.

While some people have solid foundations built to withstand life’s hardships, mine is the equivalent of a house of cards—susceptible to collapsing from the slightest change.

18

Jax

“I want to get off the Xanax,” I say after counting tiles for what feels like thirty minutes. Elena’s words in her apartment have followed me the entire week. She’s right, which makes me angry. If I were a normal man, I wouldn’t have to worry about a connection to someone threatening to throw me over the edge. Her reluctance to even kiss me again shows how deep I’ve fallen into a hole of self-resentment and isolation.

Tom crosses his leg over his knee. “Would you like some referrals for psychiatrists?”

“Yes. I want to go about it the right way, so whatever you think is best.”

“I’m wondering what changed your mind regarding the medication?”

“I still think medication is necessary, but I don’t think Xanax is the right choice for me personally anymore. I want to try something different that fits my lifestyle better.”

“I’m proud of you for wanting to change this, Jax.”

He should be thanking Elena, but I don’t want to bring her into these conversations. “Thanks.”

“I can put together a list of referrals if that works for you.”

“Sure. The sooner the better. Do you think the change will affect my racing or anything?”

“I think a psychiatrist can help determine what’s the best course of action. But they know how to work with an athlete like you.”

“That’s good then.” I nod, pleased with myself for taking this first step.

“I know you can beat this, Jax. Anxiety doesn’t define you.” Tom smiles at me.

“That’s easy to say when you don’t know my fears.”

“If you’re willing to share, I’d like to help you.’”

“Let’s save that battle for another week.”

I pace the living room, staring at Elena’s bedroom door. Ever since she texted me to let me know she wasn’t feeling well, I’ve been on alert.

Over the past few months, she’s never taken an hour off, let alone a day. While I’d rather feel wounded about Elena avoiding our kiss, something tells me she wouldn’t back down from helping me, least of all because of a kiss.

A kiss she wants to forget ever happened.

A kiss I couldn’t forget even if I tried. And fuck I’ve tried. I’ve tried so damn hard, I nearly bashed my head into the wall of the shower yesterday after jacking off to the idea of her.

I’ve stooped to new lows, and that says something coming from the guy who lives at rock bottom.

Her evading me has left me on edge. Not because I care about her well-being but more so because I don’t want to get sick with whatever virus she is incubating within her body.