Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

“You’re on.” I meticulously search the tattoos on his arm. By the end of my investigation, I’m stuck between two options. I go with my gut, stopping my finger on the one I think his mom picked. “This one. Definitely.”

His body shudders as my finger trails across the ink, pulling a smile from me. This tattoo doesn’t fit the grim themes of his other ones. A beautiful flower stands out compared to his other hauntingly beautiful designs, ranging from a grim reaper to a tombstone. Safe to say he’s got creepy covered.

“Too bad you didn’t specify what happens if you chose right.”

“What?” I screech. “I guessed right?” I break out into a victory dance, twirling in a circle, making my dress swirl around me.

Jax grins. “Yeah.” He runs his index finger across a tattoo of a paper rose made out of music sheets. “How’d you know?”

“Honestly, your other tattoos are a bit...”

“Depressing?”

“I wouldn’t say that… You do have a butterfly one after all.”

He laughs to himself. “I choose my tattoos based on my mood.”

“Typical Gemini.”

He knocks his head back and lets out a roar of laughter. When Jax looks as untroubled as he does now, it throws me for a loop. The smiling teen in the photograph is a far cry from the man I’ve gotten to know over the past few months.

“When did you find out about your mom’s diagnosis?” I blurt out.

His eyes dart toward the photo in his hands. “Twenty-one. They knew before, but they held off on telling me until they felt I could handle the news.”

My hand grips his bicep. I rub my thumb in circles, wanting to soothe him. “I’m sorry. I can imagine it’s hard for you, with her being one of the coolest people I’ve ever met.”

“She’s the best. Hands down my favorite person out there.”

I can’t stop my eyes from watering.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He lifts a brow.

“Because beneath all the tattoos and grumpiness, you’re not a bad guy.”

/> “Elena…” He sighs, avoiding my gaze.

“Hear me out. You may have made bad decisions. Actually, wait—terrible decisions. But that doesn’t make you a bad person. You can choose to be better. No one’s stopping you.”

“No one but me.”

“Exactly. Which is kind of dumb if you really think about it.”

“You don’t say. Tell me why.” The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk.

“Yes. You’re a grown man so you’re the only one who can decide to be better. If I were you, I would find it exhausting to keep up such a rough exterior all the time.”

“As opposed to your version of shitting rainbows?”

“At least there’s a pot of gold at the end of it.” I grin at him.

“Don’t start wishing for things that can’t happen.”

He lets out a breath as I run a hand down his chest, letting my finger drag across his muscles.

My sanity has temporarily left the ten-thousand-square-foot mansion. “It’s already happening. You’re changing.”

“Don’t make me prove you wrong.”