Reckless (Mason Family 3)

I nod. “Thanks for coming by. We appreciate it.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I don’t wait for him to turn around. I don’t say goodbye.

Instead, I bolt inside before the tears stream down my face.

Twenty-Two

Boone

I turn off my car.

I open the door to climb out but stop to reach back into the console to grab my phone.

Jaxi didn’t answer any of my calls on the way here. I know she was okay a couple of hours ago because Mom was here. But why is she not answering now?

An unread text message pops on the screen as I shut the door.

Danny: I got my schedule mixed up. I apologize. However, I dropped off a couple of brochures with Jaxi. She’s going to come by the office tomorrow to sign some papers. Glad I could help you out.

My feet stumble, and I stop walking. A sinking feeling fills my stomach.

Me: She’s signing papers for what?

Danny: An apartment. I thought Anjelica said it was an apartment complex so I came prepared to discuss that. You probably thought I was crazy asking to meet with you over an apartment rental.

I look up at the house. Oh, fuck.

My phone buzzes with another text. I squeeze it in my hands as I jog toward the house.

Bouncing up the steps three at a time, I try to rationalize why Jaxi would be signing papers for an apartment.

It makes no sense.

None.

My stomach churns as I open the door, threatening to spill the contents of my lunch onto the tile.

“Jaxi!” I shout. My voice echoes. “Are you here?”

I peek in the kitchen.

No luck.

“Jaxi!” I shout again.

My heart pounds as I walk down the hallway and into our room.

She’s sitting on the bed, her hands in her lap, staring at the door.

At me.

Her eyes are dry but red and puffy. The lashes that slay me are clumped together.

A chill runs down my spine as I take her in.

What the fuck happened here today?

“Are you okay?” I ask slowly. “Because I feel like I missed something huge.”

She nods. I think she tries to speak, but the words get stuck in her throat.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” I walk to the bed and sit beside her. “Talk to me, Jax.”

She stares at the doorway. It’s a refusal to look at me. A slight sigh escapes her lips, but other than that, she doesn’t move.

My brain screams at me to take action—to do something. To shake her, kiss her, scream at her. To do anything that will stop the volatility burning inside me.

“I need you to talk,” I say. “Is it Rosie? Isn’t she with Mom?”

She nods. “Rosie is fine.”

Her voice is weak. Pained. But also utterly controlled.

“Then what’s not fine?” I ask.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” she says.

“It’s too late for that.”

She licks her lips. “I was thinking today that it’s probably the best for Rosie if she and I get our own place for a while.”

“No.”

My quick and immediate answer takes her by surprise.

Her eyes go wide, and finally, she looks at me. “What?”

“You are not moving out of here.”

Her brows pull together.

“Why on earth would you think it would be a good idea?” I ask, trying to keep the frustration out of my tone. “Danny called me. He told me that you’re signing papers for an apartment tomorrow.”

Despite my best efforts not to be, I’m pissed.

She forces a swallow but stands her ground.

“I am,” she says.

It feels like a challenge. It sure as hell sounds like one too.

I spring to my feet, the mattress bouncing with the change in weight. I pace the room and try to wrap my head around what is going on.

“How could you do this and not ask me?” I face her with my arms out to the sides. “Did you ever stop and think that you should ask me what I want?”

She stands too. “I’m giving you what you want.”

I chuckle angrily. “You think moving out of here and taking Rosie with you is giving me what I want?”

“Yes. I do.” Her tone hardens to match mine. “I think you’re entirely too nice to ask me for what you want.”

What? What is she talking about?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. “What do you think I want?”

Her gaze sinks into mine. It’s cool and borderline icy, but I can still see my Jaxi in there—the warm and generous woman I know. Who has obviously been burned and is clearly scared.

“You’re not going to lay this on me and then not talk to me about it,” I warn her. “That’s not how this gets played.”

“I’m not playing.”

I snort. “I’m glad because I sure as fuck am not.”

She blows out a breath and walks to the other side of the room. It’s as though she knows that the space between us hurts more than anything.

“What caused this?” I ask. “What caused you to lose your mind and think I want you to leave?”