Careless (Enemies to Lovers 3)

Chapter 4

JAXSON

I know Logan talks to Mom. Just because I don’t want anything to do with her, I don’t expect him to not have contact with her. I hate that she asks him to give messages to me.

As he ends the call, I know what’s coming.

“Mom sends her love. She says she misses you.”

My eyes snap to Logan. “Do you actually believe that shit?”

Logan shoves his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, avoiding eye contact with me.

“I think she cares,” he says.

“Look at me and then repeat the lie,” I grind the words out.

His eyes meet mine, and I hate that they’re filled with sadness.

“I really believe she cares. She’ll come back.”

I bite my bottom lip so I don’t say anything else that will upset Logan. It’s not his fault. He doesn’t know her the way I do.

“Are you going out?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I’m already late. I’m meeting Rhett and Carter for a drink. You want to come?”

“Nah, I’m just going to hang at home.”

Opening the front door, Logan glances at me from over his shoulder.

“I love you, Jaxson. Not because you’re my brother, but because you always look out for me. I know what Mom did. I know you protected Marcus and me. You have a right to hate her, and I’m sorry that I can’t.”

She doesn’t deserve Logan’s love.

“I love you, Logan. Don’t worry about that shit. What she did is between her and me.”

He gives me a chin lift and shuts the door behind him.

The moment I hear his car pull out of the driveway, I throw the bottle of beer I’ve been nursing. It crashes against the wall, and I watch the liquid trickle down the white paint.

“I fucking hate you, Judy West,” I growl.

I’m glad I’m alone at home as wave after wave of anger, wash over me. I drop to the floor and start to do sit-ups. Exercising is the only way I can calm down.

I’m busy with push-ups when someone bangs on the door.

“I’m coming,” I shout as the incessant hammering continues. Yanking the door open, I snap, “You don’t have to fucking break it.”

“Willow,” Leigh forces the word out as if her throat is closing up, which immediately grabs my attention.

Her face is ghostly pale, and she’s shivering as if she’s freezing, while it’s hot as hell tonight. I glance at the rest of her body to see if she’s hurt anywhere, and that’s when I notice she’s barefoot.

“Willow,” she croaks.

“She’s not here,” I say.

I reach out to her and taking hold of her arm, I pull her inside. I shut the door and take hold of her shoulders so I can make sure she’s okay. I can feel her trembling under my hands which makes worry fuse with the anger still burning in my chest.