Fearless (Forever 7)

His eyes closed. "Some of it, yeah," he said, sounding serious. "But not everything. There's something else I need to talk to you about."

Jax's tone worried me. "What's wrong?"

"I never want to hurt you, Riley." He opened his eyes to look at me again. "It's my worst fear."

I squeezed his hand, but didn't say anything.

"I can't control my nightmares," he continued. "Not yet. And I don't want you to be afraid that I could hurt you because of them."

I wanted to tell Jax that I wasn't even a little afraid after what happened earlier, but it wasn't true. I looked down at the ground.

"I'm going to sleep on the deck chairs by the hot tub." His voice sounded like he'd already made up his mind.

I thought of Jax next to me in the bed, how I'd gotten used to the lines of his body as we spooned together . . .

"But I'll miss you," I blurted out, tears blurring my vision.

"It's not forever," Jax said gently, wiping away a tear. "Just for a few days. Just until I can be sure I won't . . ." His fists balled as his eyes closed again, and he looked close to breaking down. After a deep breath, he started again. "I'm going to keep you safe. Even if it's me you need to be safe from."

I wanted to object—to tell him, no, it was fine, I'd risk him being in the bed with me, even if his nightmares got worse—but looking into his eyes, it was clear that he was serious. And seriously terrified. I almost told him I loved him right then and there. Instead, I bit my lip and whispered:

"Thank you, Jax."

Closing my eyes, I pressed in tight against his body, feeling the warmth of his skin, the taut muscles beneath. The house around us was a disaster, a whirlwind—but here, in the center of the room, in our embrace, we had somehow found the eye of the storm together.

Chapter Eleven

IN THE DARK

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Jax lowered himself onto the floor of the car, ducking low enough that his head was impossible to see as soon as the doors were closed.

"Trust me," I said, getting in after him and squeezing myself in next to him on the floor mats. "Besides, anything's better than being trapped in Malibu for another night."

I wasn't the only one who was feeling stir-crazy. Ever since the Weekly Star had hit the stands with an expose from an anonymous source, claiming Jax's fall had been the result of a spiraling heroin addiction, the bus had stayed parked in Reed's driveway, waiting for the hordes of paparazzi to find a new flavor of the week.

Unfortunately, it looked like they weren't going away anytime soon—and Jax was in no mood to smile for the cameras. He'd already ventured out on two afternoons, heading to the therapist Reed had recommended, and each time he'd come back with a scowl on his face, swearing about "those damn vultures."

I felt bad that he had to deal with that, but he seemed determined to make therapy work, no matter what got in his way. He came back from each session pensive and withdrawn, but it was early yet, and I knew it would take time before he made any real progress.

But that didn't stop me from missing him every night we slept apart. My brain told me that Jax needed this, that he wanted to keep me safe—but my heart told me that the safest place was in the warmth of his embrace.

In spite of my loneliness at night, I was more than grateful for his efforts to heal. It meant so much to me that he was trying, and I wanted to help in any way I could. I knew Jax was feeling stir crazy—so I'd spent the last few days devising a plan to get us some alone time away from the paparazzi's ever constant presence. It took some doing, but I finally hit upon a way that just might work.

As my legs tangled against Jax's on the car floor, Bernie tossed a blanket back to us. "You kids ready?" he asked with a kindly smile.

"Ready as we'll ever be," I said, spreading the blanket over Jax and me on the car floor. "Let's get the hell out of here."

The car's engine roared to life, and Bernie drove slowly out of the driveway and toward the main gate. From beneath the blanket, Jax held my hands in his, the warmth of his breath heating the darkened space.

Voices grew louder as the car slowed for the gate. "Is he in there?" one voice shouted, and another responded: "No, just the driver this time! False alarm!"

They sound so disappointed, I thought with a smug glow of satisfaction. Outwitting the paparazzi wasn't a skill I'd ever thought I'd need, but if this tour had taught me anything, it's that there was a first time for everything.

The car revved to life and suddenly we felt the rush of acceleration as Bernie picked up speed. "The coast is clear, you guys," Bernie called back.

Jax and I took the blanket off our heads simultaneously and looked at each other, silly grins on our faces. "See? Told you," I said. "It was almost too easy."

Jax shook his head, still smiling. "Yeah, but you still haven't told me how you'll keep them away when we actually get where we're going. This is Los Angeles. No matter where we go, there's someone with a telephoto lens trying for a shot."

"Mmhmm," I said, my eyes dancing cryptically. "I guess you'll just have to wait and find out what I have planned."

He raised a questioning eyebrow at me, but my lips were sealed as Bernie wound his way along the coast. I'd planned tonight out meticulously, painfully aware that this date was probably the last one we'd be able to make time for on this tour. We had six days until the festival gig, but with the paparazzi lurking around, and the band needing to practice, there was no telling when we'd be able to snag anymore alone time.

I snuggled in tightly against Jax, my mind playing the last few weeks in my head over and over. We'd come so far, and the thousands of miles we'd traveled were just the start. Emotionally, I'd traveled an even longer road. I'd never felt so protected by anyone—or so protective of them. I'd never wanted so badly for a relationship to continue.

But I knew, with every passing mile and minute, that the end of the tour was coming fast. The night felt bittersweet. I didn't know whether I should worry about the future or just enjoy the wind in my hair and the feel of Jax's callused hands brushing against mine.

Before I knew it, Bernie was pulling to a stop in front of a non-descript, dark building with black walls and a thick oak door. "Here we are," he said, his grin as white as his hair. "You two kids text me when you need to be picked up. I'll park somewhere close."

Jax's eyes narrowed. "I'm not even sure where we—"

"Thanks, Bernie," I said quickly, getting out of the car and extending a hand to Jax. "C'mon, let's go. Didn't I tell you to trust me?"