Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

“This isn’t a good idea.”

His hand finds mine and gives it a squeeze. “Nope. Not at all.”

Even amidst my sadness, my heart rate picks back up. “Then why are you here?”

“You always ask me questions I don’t have answers to.” He sounds confused.

Minutes pass. Jax’s hand encases mine, calming me despite everything.

“What’s happening to us?” I whisper to myself.

“I wish I knew the answer to that too. But to be honest, I’m scared shitless to find out.”

My eyes grow heavy as I listen to the rhythmic sound of Jax’s breathing. I battle unconsciousness and lose the fight. Jax’s hand returns to my hair, running through the strands for what feels like an hour.

Jax leaves behind the softest kiss near the base of my neck. “I wish I hated you. But instead, you’re making me like you more. You pretend to be this put-together person, but you’re broken—damaged like me. And the absolute fucking worst is that I want to know your messed-up parts too. I want to put them together with mine and see what we create. So, I don’t know whether to run in the opposite direction or beg you for a chance despite how much of an arse I’ve been,” he whispers.

Oh, God. He thinks I’m sleeping.

“But most of all, I wish I wasn’t a coward. I’m not brave. Fuck that. If I were, then I’d face my future for you. And bloody hell, if that doesn’t worry me more than anything else. You have the power to change it all.”

I don’t know what he says next. Even though I try to stay awake, exhaustion wins, with my eyes drifting shut again.

Jax watches me from his seat on the couch as I exit my room. “I need to talk to you about last night.”

I’m afraid of what he wants to say, but I gather the courage to sit on the couch opposite him like a mature adult. My eyes try to find a spot in the room to stare at, but he stands and sits next to me.

I become acutely aware of his body, like crackling electricity coming off him in waves, leaving behind goosebumps on my skin.

Those hands were on me last night, holding me, making me feel safe.

“How often do you get nightmares?”

“Not often anymore.” I avoid his gaze.

“And it was because of me turning off the lights?” His voice draws my eyes back to him like a ship seeking a lighthouse on a stormy night.

“I don’t like the dark.”

His eyebrows pull together. “I had

no idea.”

“We aren’t exactly best friends.”

“I don’t want to be,” he grumbles under his breath.

“Yeah well you have the personality of a cactus, so I’m not exactly interested either.”

The corner of his lips lift. “I can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”

“Does dick sound more familiar?”

“Did you call me a dick?” He mockingly gasps as he clutches onto an invisible pearl necklace.

“Dick. Asshole. Pinche pendejo.”

Jax covers my mouth with his palm, his eyes reflecting a lightness I wish to see more of. “Stop. My virgin ears can’t handle this!”