Saving Ella (30 page)

             
“I don’t know how to thank you Jax,” she murmured and he pulled her into a reassuring embrace.

             
“You don’t have to thank me Annie it’s what friends do, look out for each other. I’m taking Ella to my place tonight, we’ll check in on you and Eli tomorrow.” I stood on my unsteady legs until Jax swept me up into his arms.

             
“Jax, my legs aren’t broken, I can walk,” I murmured.

             
“I don’t care either way, this makes me happy and after the week I’ve had, after the night I’ve had, I need happy.” I didn’t argue, truth be told I loved it when he carried me. I felt like I was being held in a fortress of impenetrable steel. Nothing could hurt me here and it was the closest to home I had felt in a long time.

             
Somehow I managed to doze during the journey from Annie’s to Jax’s. He lived out of town, surrounded by tall, impressive firs, the houses scattered few and far between. I had never lived outside of a city and for some reason the thought occurred that I should feel isolated and scared, but of course I didn’t. The further we got from town, the safer I actually felt. The short drive through thick forest brought us to Jax’s house. It was dark, and difficult to make out, but I could see it was a timber loft style home, and the porch light was on. Jax used a remote from inside his car to open a garage door and when the car finally came to a stop, he jumped out and strode around to my door before I could even reach for the handle. With my backpack over his shoulder he scooped me up again and made his way into his home. I wanted to look around, take in my surroundings but the warmth from Jax’s arms drew me in and I nestled my head in the crook of his neck. He carried me effortlessly up a staircase and I felt myself being lowered to a bed. Once he had seated me I finally looked around. We were on the second floor of the loft and Jax’s bedroom occupied the entire area. His bed was a massive feature against the far wall and in front was a sturdy timber handrail that contained the space and looked out over the floor below. The slanted roof with exposed beams reached high above us. To my left was a doorway and Jax switched on the light for the room beyond, a bathroom in which Jax disappeared into. To the right was another doorway to what looked like an enormous walk in robe.

             
Jax appeared back before me. “I’d offer you the grand tour but I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night.” He smiled. “I’ve laid out a fresh towel for you. Help yourself to anything, what’s mine is yours.” He dropped my backpack on the floor beside the bed. “Did you eat tonight?” I shook my head. I had barely eaten for the last week, my body had been demanding something other than food and now he stood before me, my protector, my guardian. “You’ve lost weight, you were already small enough anymore and you’ll disappear.” I shrugged.

             
“I guess I’ve had a tough week. I haven’t really been all that hungry.” Jax sighed and shook his head.

             
“I did that to you.” His words full of regret and pain.

             
“No Jax,” I stood to protest but he stopped me.

             
“Please, take a shower Ella, get warm. I’ll get you something to eat, I’ve got some frozen meals Mary had made up for me so you don’t have to worry about me poisoning you.” He smiled and my knees became weak at the sight. “Let me take care of you, please.” How could I refuse? The answer was I couldn’t. I wanted him to take care of me just as much as he wanted too. I nodded and Jax took the few short steps to meet me. With one hand firmly behind my neck he pulled me close and pressed his lips to my forehead, holding me there, secure and safe. Then he abruptly pulled away and moved to the lower floor of the loft.

             
The bathroom was spectacular, with an enormous double shower which made me question why and who else had shared the space with him. That line of thought just pissed me off. With my always imperative collection of toiletries, I washed my body and hair, grabbed a disposable razor and did some quick landscaping and finally allowed the hot water to soak my tired and aching limbs. I was petrified of what had happened tonight, not with Phillip, but Tom. He was here, he knew I was here, and no doubt had already told Marcus. I needed to leave Claymont but the thought of leaving filled me with a worse dread. Never seeing Jax again hurt. I didn’t even think I could bring myself to leave. Jax had protected me tonight, he had saved me and that feeling of protection had me wondering if perhaps he could indeed save me from Marcus if he had to. Glancing at my naked reflection in the mirror I took in the nasty bruise on my cheek. I had had worse. The imprint of fingers around my neck was a new one. Marcus had never tried to choke me. It looked ugly and my throat felt raw. The dark rings under my eyes had resettled into position, my face pale. The scars on my arms somehow seemed more obvious under the bright lights of Jax’s bathroom. I sighed. I simply couldn’t imagine Jax wanting this beaten body, but I also knew I couldn’t do this to myself anymore. All this negativity and dislike for myself was started by Marcus. It was time to cleanse him from my system. Jax was here with me now. Tonight I saw the entire truth in his eyes, the panic, the fear, the pain, the desire, and the love. He didn’t care if I was too thin, or not thin enough. He didn’t see my scars as ugly, he didn’t want my face hidden behind layers of makeup. Jax wanted me as I was, broken, flawed and honest. And never before had I been so utterly consumed and owned as I was by Jax.

              As soon as I heard the shower start up I made for my office and called Dillon. I needed to know who the hell Tom Brennan was. From Ella’s response to him I was convinced the bastard had some sort of involvement with her step-father, and Tom admitted he knew Ella from Dunston, that she was a troubled teen whom he had arrested on more than one occasion. During my conversation with Dillon he told me he had put someone on to help him watch Fairmont and ordinarily I would have cursed up a blue storm, but I knew watching Fairmont and digging at the same time was impossible. The fact he had entrusted the task of this surveillance to his cousin Braidey to help gave me some resemblance of reassurance. Braidey worked for Dillon and was damned good at his job. I had no doubt he would stay glued to Fairmont. Being a former P.I he was used to unrewarding stake outs, long nights and veins running brown with caffeine. Once I’d finished talking with Dillon I made my way to the kitchen only to be confronted with the mess that was once my guitar displaying my inglorious break down on the living room floor. I tossed the guitar in the fire place for now and swept up the remains into a dustpan. The empty bottle of whiskey got promptly thrown into the garbage and I grabbed the first frozen dinner my hand landed on, some sort of chicken and rice dish. I made Ella a cup of hot chocolate and pored the freshly microwaved dinner onto a plate, grabbed some painkillers, then headed back upstairs. The shower had been off a while but the door was still closed. I placed the food and steaming mug of coco on the side table and sat on the side of the bed waiting, my foot beating an anxious cadence on the carpeted floor. Now that I had stopped moving, my body quickly came down from the adrenaline that had fired every cylinder since Ella’s phone call some hours ago now.

             
I pulled off my sweater and threw it on the floor. Tugging at the laces of my boots I dragged them off and tucked them under the side of the bed so that Ella wouldn’t trip over them. Once I had her fed and safely tucked away in my bed I would sleep on the sofa. Hell, I’d slept there last night quite comfortably, it would be no hardship and knowing Ella was safe and sound in my house where I could keep an eye on her, protect her, I might finally get some descent sleep.

             
The bathroom door opened and Ella stepped out, my heart hammered in my chest, my mouth was suddenly drier than the Sahara. She wore a pair of flannel bottoms hanging loosely around her small hips, and a tight little singlet top, with quite obviously no bra underneath. Her hair was brushed smooth and hung still slightly damp over her shoulders, her bare feet whispered across the carpet as she sat down beside me. I breathed in the gentle mixture of the ocean and coconut that was distinctly my Ella.

             
“Here,” I somehow managed to say. I handed her two headache tablets and she took them without question. She still appeared to be in shock, her body operating in a monotone mechanical manner. I slipped her phone out of my back pocket and placed it on the bedside table. “I’ve turned it down, not off,” I explained bringing the plate of food back. She took it and began to eat without question, finally sighing, her body sagging with exhaustion.

             
“This is really good. We should ask Mary if she wouldn’t mind giving us some cooking lessons.” I smiled thinking of my failed lesson the night before.

             
“I ruined the spaghetti sauce last night at the shelter. I don’t know if Mary will let me back in her kitchen.” A small smile tugged at the corner of Ella’s lips, threatening to break that solemn expression that had settled on her angelic features.

             
“Did you eat tonight?” She asked as I watched her eat like a deranged voyeur with a food fetish. I loved watching her eat though. She wasn’t like most women who ate small portions of salad and dry nuts like some sort of woodland creature. Ella ate real food with passion, not afraid of where the calories might settle, simply enjoying the taste. I hadn’t eaten, I didn’t know if I could. Ella stabbed a piece of chicken along with some carrot, held it to her lips and blew gently. My dick began to harden which made me question the weird food fetish thought. She then held it out for me and I gladly accepted. It was either the best chicken I had tasted in my life or I was a starved man. We ate the meal like that, one mouthful for her, one for me until the plate was clean. As Ella rested against the headboard of my bed, the hot chocolate wrapped around her small hands I turned to face her.

             
“We need to talk Ella.” She took a sip and watched me from over the top of the mug.

             
“When you call me Ella I know it’s serious,” she sighed. “I agree, we need to talk but I’m kind of emotionally drained tonight. Let’s keep it light we can do the heavy stuff tomorrow.” I grinned and rubbed my aching neck.

             
“Do you really think there is any conversation between us that won’t be heavy?” Ella shook her head.

             
“No, but I can’t deal with it right now, so perhaps we should talk about something else, like, how were those Yankees last weekend?” I laughed at her attempt at what some might call a normal conversation.

             
“Are you even into sport?”

             
“Actually, I am. My dad loved sport, baseball, basketball, football, hockey, you name it. He took me to all kinds of sporting events and I actually loved it. Even if I didn’t know what was happening, the crazy atmosphere and the noise was a thrill.” She sighed. “I guess that would freak me out now.” Her smile was lost, replaced with despair that was so heavy I couldn’t understand how she didn’t drown in it.

             
“I’m sorry you lost your dad angel. Neither he nor you deserved that. I know today is the anniversary of his death, I wish you hadn’t had to go through that alone.” She looked at me with questioning eyes.

             
“Dillon told me,” I admitted.

             
“It never used to matter whether I was alone or not, it hurt just as bad. Thanksgiving has always been a private day for me but for some reason this year, I thought if you had of been there, it might not have hurt quite as much.” I again wanted to punch myself for fucking everything up a week ago. “Can I show you something?” She asked as I silently cursed myself for being such a dick. I nodded and she climbed off the bed and rummaged around that big backpack of hers. Finally she stood and crawled onto the bed beside me, her hands filled with what looked like sketches. She opened them, one by one, four in total, all exactly the same.

“This is what I do every year on Thanksgiving.
Every year it’s the same. I wake and my chest is hurting so bad it feels like I’m having a heart attack, like someone is crushing me from the inside out. I try to cry, I think if I could just get the tears out I will feel better, like purging the grief from my system, but they won’t come. My stupid fucking tears only come when people are kind to me. Sorrow, anger, pain, I cope with it differently, my body just kind of shuts down.” She picks up one of the sketches and runs her hand over the eyes. They are exactly like hers. “I draw him because I don’t have any pictures. I had one picture that mother allowed me and Marcus took it from me. I’m scared I will forget what he looks like, so I draw him. I had to leave Marcus’s house in a hurry, I didn’t take anything so all the other sketches were left there. Before you, before the sketch pad and charcoal you bought me, these were the only sketches I had done since leaving Dunston.” I thumbed through the pictures admiring her perfect work.

             
“They’re beautiful angel, you look just like him.” She smiled at that. I knew right then I should tell her about her mother’s death but the words wouldn’t come. She had said she couldn’t do heavy and emotional tonight, so maybe it was best the words remained stuck in my cowardice. I carefully folded the sketches and gave them back to her. She looked nervous as she stuffed them carefully back in her bag and sat back down beside me, rubbing the scars on her arms in what I was now coming to recognize as a soothing action.