Chapter EIGHTEEN
I pick up Jax at the hotel at five thirty in the morning. I have two cups of Kona coffee, and blueberry muffins on hand, as a van takes us up Waimea Canyon.
He said he wanted to see the sunrise, and there’s no better way than from the top of the Grand Canyon of the Pacific.
“This isn’t frightening for you?” he asks when we reach the top. It’s still dark, but from the drive, he knows we’ve ridden quite a long way on an incline.
“I’m good because I’ll be grounded. If we were skydiving, I’d have a problem.”
Since it’s cool at the top, I advised Jax to dress in layers. We’re both wearing shorts and t-shirts with sweatshirts over them.
I should have heeded my own advice and worn a little more as I stand here shivering, and goose bumps appear on my bare legs. I cross my arms and wait for the tour guide to get me a bike. Jax steps behind me and rubs my arms in an attempt to warm my chilled skin. I step closer to him to bask in his warmth.
When the guide comes out with our bikes, Jax releases me to grab two helmets. With careful hands, he places one on my head and makes sure it’s fitted safely and secures the chin strap.
I booked a private tour, so the van driver will follow behind us. With our helmets in place, we hop on our single-speed cruisers and start on the paved road that leads down the canyon.
The sun has begun to rise, and the clouds are set low. The sun seems to be peeking up from the red rock of the canyon creating a sliver of heaven sneaking through the heavens to earth, and a cast of purple and blue paint the sky.
The ride has us weaving down the side of the mountain where the view is temporarily obstructed by the trees. Jax is behind me as I pick up speed. Keeping to the right side of the road, I feel the cool wind on my face and inhale in the dewy scent of the fern that grows on the side of the mountain.
About a mile down, there’s a break in the trees where I pull over. My breathing is harsh from the wind and exhilaration of the ride. Jax stops behind me, and together we look over the metal guard rail into the canyon.
The clouds are rising with the sun, and a bright orange sphere quickly takes over the sky as it climbs. It’s awe-inspiring—if I could paint a canvas, this would be the scene I’d create.
I look back to see if he’s witnessing what I am, but instead of looking at the view, he’s staring at me. The same way I just stood in awe of the sun coming up from the canyon is exactly how Jax is looking at me—like I’m the most beautiful thing in the world.
“Ten miles to go!” I take off down the canyon.
My eyes try to concentrate on the view— with its rippling rust colored mountains blanketed in green plant-life that cascades down the slopes—but it’s hard when you’re also making sure you don’t get hit by a car on the way down—not that there are many to avoid.
We’re still high up in the canyon when we come to another scenic viewing area. I pull over with Jax at my heels.
It’s astounding that a place created from an erosion and the catastrophic collapse of a volcano, a place that is literally formed from melted fire, is here before us and positively breathtaking. With it’s steep slopes and massive peaks, like the earthly progression of life’s emotions.
There’s a waterfall deep within the canyon. It’s strong and ever flowing amongst a backdrop serenity. Hard red rocks covered in places by green stand strong with the ever-moving wish of the waterfall.
“It looks like the heart of the canyon,” Jax says, nodding toward the waterfall. “Hang on.” He hops off his bike and walks toward me.
Taking his phone out of his pocket, he puts his head close to mine, our helmets crashing into each other’s as he holds his arm out to take a picture.
“Are we taking a selfie?”
“You know you love it.” He hits the icon on the phone that flips the image so we can see ourselves on the screen.
“Can I at least take off this ridiculous helmet?” I reach for the chinstrap, but he lowers his arm to my hands and swats them away from my neck.
“You look adorable.” He holds the phone back out and smiles. I can’t help but grin right along with him.
He takes three to make sure he gets the best one. With his phone back in his pocket, he hops on his bike. “Race you to the next lookout!”
I get on mine and follow him down. The next stop isn’t too far away. When I get there, he waits for me to get off my bike before getting off his.
The sun is shining brightly, and Jax fills me in on some of the more fun stories of the past few years. Like the time he and his friend, Neil went sky diving in Brazil.
“Right of Rio de Janeiro with the statue of Christ the Redeemer as far as that peak over there.” He points out to the top of the canyon in the distance. It’s far, yet feels so close.
“Neil’s in your band?”
“Yeah. He’s the one who called the ambulance. I know you think they’re losers, but they’re okay guys.”
“If they’re so great then why did you quit?”
He rolls his head from side to side as he contemplates his answer. “I didn’t quit them. I quit the band. I’ll do whatever I can to help them reach success. It just took some time to realize their life isn’t the one I want for myself.”
I lean my hip into the rail. “What kind of life do you want?”
“A simpler one. Maybe buy a house and actually live in it for more than two weeks at a time. Go grocery shopping and bowling on Friday nights.”
“Bowling?” The word comes out rudely. “I mean, it’s fun and all, I just think it’s interesting you’d give up a band for free Friday nights to hang out at the alley.”
He laughs. “What can I say, I’m a Kingpin. You used to like it.”
I roll my eyes. “What are you gonna do for work, then? Live off the Davis family fortune?”
I meant it as a joke, but by the way his chin juts out toward me, I think I’ve insulted him until he smiles.
“I still write songs for them. I just won’t perform.” He climbs on his bike and pushes the kickstand up with his heel. “Beat me to the next stop, and I’ll tell you about the time I landed in a jail in San Antonio.”
With a fierce look in my eyes, I get on my bike determined to make it onto the road first. If I’m totally honest, Jax let me in front, and the thought has me laughing.
We spend the morning talking. At the fourth lookout, I tell him about my college years, and he finds my musings about living with three other girls, amusing.
“Why did you call yourselves the Goldens?” He removes his helmet and unzips his sweatshirt.
“Because we were each a character from the Golden Girls. Nickie was a total ditz, so we called her Rose. Her first week of freshman year we found her tapping her finger on a keg. When we asked what she was doing she said someone told her she has to tap the keg if she wanted beer—she took that way too literally.”
“Who was Blanch?”
“That would be Kelli. You met her at the bonfire. She’s a tad promiscuous. And the Sofia of our group was our friend Tara. She’s the quiet one who doesn’t say much and then pops into the conversation with these crazy one-liners. It doesn’t help she’s four-foot eight and wears glasses bigger than her head. Though, she’s a total hipster and makes it work.”
He’s leaning against the railing, his body facing mine. “I guess that makes you Dorothy.”
“I’m the critical one of the group.”
“She also knows how to party.”
I tap my finger on his nose. “This is true. That’s why I’m the perfect Dorothy. Straight laced, but I know how to have fun with my girls.
“You speak highly of yourself.” His ankles cross, and he settles back appraising me. “You’re underestimating one thing.”
I quirk a brow in interest.
The side of his mouth rises in an impish grin. “Your legs are too killer to hide in a pant suit.”
It’s impossible to hide the red in my cheeks. I don’t have a mirror, but the heat and the way his eyes linger on my thighs has me wishing I had ice water.
“Okay, Stan.” He grins at my reference to Dorothy’s ex-husband.
“What ever happened with that guy you were dating?” His question catches me off guard. “The one who called you the night of the storm.”
There’s a small, yellow bird sitting on a nearby tree. I watch it peck at a piece of branch, and I answer him nonchalantly, “Kevin wasn’t too thrilled when I told him I was moving five-thousand miles across the country.”
“Do you regret it?”
I turn around with a tilted head.
He continues, “You said I’m the reason you walk away from relationships.”
A couple of bikers pass by—a tour group of about eight. I watch them zip down the mountain and passed us as I think about my last relationship.
“Kevin and I met at work. It’s easy to fall for someone when you’re with them every day. He is really funny and compassionate. He’s the type of guy who, if you needed him, he was right there. I was very dependent on him in some ways yet closed off in others. Like, if I felt lonely or scared, I called him. But when he wanted things like me to move in with him I panicked and avoided the conversation.” I bite my lip and look down at my Keds. “I blamed you, but the truth is after two years I should have wanted to take those steps with him. With or without you in my past, I should have wanted to be with him. I didn’t—so I ended it.”
“Two years is a long time.”
I look back up. “Yea. But like you said yesterday, you can know someone for two years, but it only takes a moment to determine if your souls connect.”
He raises that brow I love, and I find myself saying, “Next stop you get to tell me the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done.”
He doesn’t argue. At the fifth stop, he tells me how he lost a bet and had to go on stage in nothing but a pair of women’s underwear…with his junk falling out the side. The embarrassing part was Ella had surprised him by coming to see the show.
“At least you had your guitar to cover yourself,” I offer.
“Except I didn’t realize she was in the audience until after the show. I kinda played the part of the extrovert. The last thing I want is for my sister to see my bare ass as I let my drummer give it a whack with a stick as I read aloud lines from Fifty Shades of Grey.”
“I’m sure you put her Christian Grey fantasies to bed with that one.”
He cringes and makes a face like he’s gagging. “And now I’m picturing my sister in bed with Christian Grey.”
I couldn’t help my giggle. With each stop, we talked about just about everything. His favorite author, John Grisham, and mine, Nora Roberts and our mutual favorite food is a cheeseburger with cheddar.
He loves guitar driven music, the Discovery Channel, green Jolly Ranchers, and sex. While I adore 48 Hours, drinks with friends, dark chocolate, and (fine, I give in) sex.
I laugh at the fact he dislikes disco balls and mayonnaise. He finds it amusing I’m not a fan of words that start with the letter Q. He proves it by shouting as many of them as we head down the hill to the final stop. And damn him and his knowledge of the English vocabulary because he knows many obscure ones.
“Quagga, quahog, quarks, quaffed.”
“What the heck is a quahog?” I ask when we get to the base.
“A large, rounded clam.”
“Who knows that?”
He puts his shoulders back and puffs out his chest. “Me. I do.”
I push him in his over-confident chest and walk my bike to the attendant who waits to gather them at the bottom.
We’re about to board the van when I look back toward the canyon. “I’ve booked this tour a hundred times for guests but have never come. Thank you for suggesting it.”
“I just wanted to see the sunrise with you. Thank you for suggesting this.”
I pull on the strands of my braid, my fingers feeling every bump on the way down. “Why the sun rise?”
He lets out a breath and looks at his feet for a moment before staring into the horizon. “A new beginning. It felt right. It feels right.”
He’s right—it does.
We hop into the van and start the drive back to the Kauai Princess. He takes his phone and I glance at the screen. He has several missed calls from Dexter, his former manager and various other names I don’t know – many of them female.
As awesome as today has been, it’s only a day in the life. Jax has an entire life that doesn’t involve me. He has family, friends, his job and a home.
In two days, he’ll be gone.
I turn and face the window. My heart is in the van, but my mind is wandering elsewhere. I spent so long not surviving because of him. Now, I pray I’ll be able to move forward when he leaves me for the second time in my life.
Jax taps my shoulder and holds his phone toward me. I look at the screen and see he’s pulled up an episode of the Golden Girls. He places his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in. My shoulder nestles into the crook of his arm as my head falls against his chest. And with my palm pressed against his heart, I settle into the most comfortable spot in the world.
We spend the drive watching the where the girls got mistakenly arrested for being prostitutes. His warm chuckle vibrates in his chest when Sofia walks into the jailhouse and utters a line about how dumb the cops are to think people would actually pay to sleep with Blanche, Rose, and Dorothy.
With every hum, I feel more peaceful.
With every inch, he pulls me into him, I feel more grounded.
And when he leans down and kisses the top of my head, I feel more at pace in the present that I’m forgetting about the past.