Chapter Eight
Ava
The drive to his apartment is filled with a deathly silence. My muscles are tense with worry. As soon as he kills the engine, we both exit the car. I don’t wait for him because I’m shaking with worry at what he’s going to do.
The apartment is exactly how I remember. Within the small courtyard a staircase leads up to the steel and glass door. Once inside, I notice nothing’s changed. The sleek black leather sofa is the only new item in the space. It’s an open-plan living area with a kitchen toward the back of the large room. The door to the bedroom is shut. I make my way in, settling on the sofa and waiting for him to tell me what he wants.
I’m alone for a moment and I hear him rustling around the kitchen. The drawers open, then shut, and when he enters the living room again he’s carrying two bottles of Goose Island beer.
“Talk.”
This isn’t going to be easy, but I take a deep breath and look at him perched on the edge of the desk. “When I left I didn’t know I was... I didn’t realize I was pregnant. When I started getting pains in my stomach, I was rushed to the hospital and...” I can’t say it. I can’t tell him I lost his baby, our baby, because of the life I once had. Because I chose that over him. It’s my fault.
All my life I’ve failed. When I turned twenty and stopped hating the world for just a moment, I learned to push past my pain. I focused on work, I set myself goals in order to never lose anything again, and then Jag sauntered in to my life. Slowly, he showed me that there is more to life than your past.
My mother ran off with some man I didn’t know, leaving me with a father who thought the bottom of a bottle was his only answer. It fucked me right up. What Jag didn’t know was that at the young age of eighteen I’d stupidly married a man who was bad for me.
When we first met, it was nothing short of the fairy tale every girl dreams about. A knight in shining armor, strolling into her life to save her. Then I learned what he did when he wasn’t with me. The drugs, the alcohol, it became too much. When I called him out on it one day, he turned around and shoved me against a wall.
I knew I should leave, but I couldn’t. Fear held me in place and I stayed. After every mishap, and each apology. Tears were nothing new to me. Pain was something I’d become accustomed to. And after each bruise, he said sorry. Told me he loved me. The girl inside believed him, and each day a tiny piece of her cracked.
For a year I put up with the nightmare I’d gotten myself into, then one night, I ran. I walked out with the clothes on my back and stumbled upon the new tattoo store and got my first ink. For the first four years of our relationship Jag was there for me as a friend, a confidant, and even though he didn’t know my whole truth, he still gave me the support I needed. That slowly changed and we dated for another four years. He made me feel again, he made me fall, and then I went and fucked it all up.
“So you... You just went through that alone?” He’s angry. “There wasn’t one moment in there when you thought of calling me? The father. The man you supposedly loved?” Turning away from me, he plants both hands on the brick fireplace.
I want to go to him, touch him, hold him, but I don’t. Fear holds me hostage as I watch the turmoil rolling through him. “It’s not that, Jag. I always wanted you, needed you even. I’m a stubborn, proud person. You of all people know that.” Fidgeting with my skirt, I drop my gaze to the material. My fingers twirl the denim around, tightening it just like the tension in my muscles. “I was scared. Brayden was never the easiest man. When I walked into my father’s home and saw him sitting there like he owned the place, I reverted back to a scared eighteen-year-old girl who didn’t know how to fight back. I didn’t realize he had people watching me. Then he mentioned you, coming here with his thugs to hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen.”
He doesn’t respond. The silence is thick, hanging heavily between us, like a storm brewing in a darkened sky. I want to say more, but when he notices the tears streaming down my face, he sighs.
“I promised him I’d come back if he’d leave you alone. If it meant you finding happiness without me, but also being safe, I’d do it.”
Lifting my eyes, I meet his dead on. He’s a statue. “And the baby?”
“The night I found out I was pregnant I sat down and decided I’d come to tell you. To let you know, but two days later I was rushed to the hospital after Brayden found the test in the bathroom trash can. To say he was angry... Well...”
“He fucking hurt you?” There’s venom dripping from the question.
“We had a fight about it. He wanted me to get rid of it and I didn’t want to. Things became heated and he shoved me against a cabinet which hit me painfully in my abdomen. He didn’t stop. I... I thought I would be okay, but with the amount of stress, and how he hit me, I started bleeding.” My confession falls effortlessly, yet painfully from my lips. My eyes sting as the tears stream down my face. “He made sure I wasn’t...” My words trail off because I can’t bring myself to say the words. “My father called the cops when he heard the fight. They saved me. But they were too late.”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” He tugs at his hair, the fury on his handsome face only makes my emotions scatter through me. He rears his fist back and slams it into the wall. “Keep talking!” he bites out, and I flinch at the rumble of his words.
“I felt like it was my fault. I blamed myself and that’s what kept me away. I’d failed you, our baby. I mean... I was a mess. Fear and guilt stopped me from coming here. I was alone. I should have called you, but in my mind, you hated me so I thought it would be easier to walk away. To let you live your life. I know I fucked up, but... I don’t know, Jag.” The words tumble quickly from my mouth and when I finally finish, I suck in a deep breath.
The air surrounding us is thick, heavy with tension and anger, and I’m scared. Fearful he’s going to throw me out and tell me to leave. I can’t do that; losing him again will kill me.
He scrubs his hand over his jaw as he paces back and forth. It’s like watching a tennis match. “And you decided now was the time to come back? What changed your mind?”
Shifting on my knees, I reach for the beer, gulping a long sip. The effect of the alcohol I had earlier has worn off, bringing with it all the emotions I’d lost in the bottle of tequila. The shit is evil. I glance up, meeting his inquisitive stare, and give him raw honesty. “You. My father had basically told me to sort my shit out. Even though he drowns his sorrows in his bourbon, he set me straight. Told me if I wanted you so much, I should suck it up and walk in here and tell you the truth.” I drop my eyes, take another draw of beer before looking at Jag again. “It was the first time he gave me sound advice. So I took it. I needed a kick in the ass to realize you were the only person I wanted in my life.” It’s the truth.
“And what’s going to stop you from walking away again?”
“My love for you. It never stopped, never went away. If anything, it’s only grown stronger. I want you, Jagger Pierce. Only you.”
My stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly and Jag halts his steps. “Are you hungry?” he questions, and I nod. “Come.” He doesn’t wait for me, instead he stalks to the kitchen. When I follow, I find him pulling open the fridge, taking out eggs, bacon, cheese. He turns to face me. “I’ll make you something to eat. Sit.”
“Jag, if you’re going to throw me out after, I’d rather leave now.” I curse myself at how weak I sound. I’ve never been like that, I’ve always been independent, strong, fierce, but with Jagger Pierce, I don’t know how else to be but submissive. Needy for him to care for me. To look after me.
“Who said I was throwing you out?” he asks, genuine confusion on his face.
Slipping onto the kitchen stool, I meet his gaze and shrug. “I don’t know, I just thought...”
“Listen to me, Pixie. There’s no doubt I’m fucking angry, I’m livid, but it’s not at you. The decision you made, I can see how it’s torn you apart. Everything that happened, that situation you were thrown into, that’s what I’m angry about. I suppose I feel left out of your life, out of the choices you made, even though they were for me.” He sighs then, a low, deliberate exhale to possibly calm himself because his body is shaking. “As much as I’d like to go down and find that fucker and kill him for what he put you through, I won’t because I’m the better man. You’re mine, Pixie and there’s no fucking way in hell you’re leaving this apartment again. My life isn’t complete without you in it. You’re deeply rooted in my heart, my mind, and my soul. As much as we need to work through, you’re the only thing I need in my life. I want you to love me the way you did before. Completely. I need you to let me in. In your heart. In your mind. And lastly, in your beautiful body.”
His words have my heart stuttering. “But—” His finger touches my lips in a gentle caress. We’ve always been volatile, always rough around the edges, but this...this is different. It’s...more.
“Come here,” he murmurs, tugging me against his solid form. Our bodies fit like a key in a lock. And he does open me up in so many ways. Unlocking me, my heart, and even my fears. When I am open, when I’m bare to him, I’m safe.
He leans in, whispering his lips over mine. The heat of his breath, the sweetness of the almost kiss tugs at my heart. “Jag, I... I don’t know how to do this,” I confess with raw honesty. More than I’ve ever given him and it’s the truth. I don’t know how to love gently.
“Do you want me, baby?” he questions on a smirk.
“Yes.”
“Do you want it dirty?” His growl is enough to send me into orbit. Nodding, I bite my lip to keep from smiling, but he can see me. Under all my ink, piercings, and armor, he sees me. His hands grip my hips and, lifting me against his body, he sets me on the kitchen table.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting dirty,” he quips. “Open your legs.” The words rumble through his chest, deep in his throat. When my legs splay for him, he drops to his knees. Careful not to touch my new ink, which I notice him regarding with pride, he casts me one quick glance before dipping his head where I need it most. His mouth finding my heated center and I want to fly apart.