Sidewalk Flower (32 page)

He waited to see if she would leave the
room to come find him.
 
But she just sat
there, with Jaxon hovering near her face.
 
Thank God he hadn’t kissed her again but watching her stare at Jaxon
like that wasn’t any better.
 
Didn’t churn his gut any less.
 

He couldn’t come up with a rational thought
other than being haunted by the words Vangie had slung at him earlier.
 
He tried not to listen.

Seeing the way Trista had taken such
vigilant care of Jaxon tonight—insisting she be the one to bring him through
the dark hole he’d fallen into—she had strings that weren’t ready to be clipped
yet.
 
It hurt him to admit it, but she
shared something far deeper with his cousin than he realized.
 
His chest burned with anger and hurt.
 

What am I
doing here?
 
What else do I have to see to realize I don’t belong?
 
She’d gone from his arms in their shower to
Jaxon’s lips on the floor.
 
Too hurt to
reconcile her actions, he started to turn and leave the window when he caught
sight of her hand smoothing Jaxon’s hair back then cupping his cheek.
 

That was it.
 

He’d seen enough.
  

He checked his pants for his phone and
wallet—all he really needed to get out of here.
 
After tonight, he doubted Trista would even want his red and black
shirt, dried with the salt that scratched the skin of his back now.
 

He forced himself to walk away.
 
Away from the world that was too fast and too
dark.
 
He would have taken Trista with
him, if she’d been able to leave.
 
But
she couldn’t.
 
He saw that now.
 

Outside a small organic foods market, he
found a payphone and thumbed through the yellow pages.
 
He found the number for the bus company.
 
A couple miles down the road and he’d be at
their stop.
 
And then he’d sit back and
regret the long, quiet trip that would take him back to Tennessee.
 
Every unfair mile of it.
 
But, what else was a man supposed to do?
 
As long as he lived, he’d never be able to
feel her kiss without seeing Jaxon in his peripheral, feeling betrayed.
 
And he wasn’t willing to share.
 
With his hands shoved in his pockets, he
numbly walked until the sidewalk ran out.

Chapter
Twenty

“Jaxon…what the hell?”

He leaned in and kissed her a second
time.
 
She inched back, her mind a swamp,
but he found her and did it again.
 
Finally she lurched back onto her haunches, about to squirm around until
she found her legs to stand up but they were in jelly shock.
 

Unbelieving, she stared a hole through
Jaxon’s chest.
 
Crazy man, he didn’t
budge.
 
Just stalked her like a large cat
warning its mate something was about to go down.
 
Something nature had deemed necessary for
survival of their kind, Jaxon and her kind, a special breed of crazies.
 
After a few more moments and after she had
failed to comprehend his antics, he came in at her a fourth time, still only
using his lips.

He’s finally
gone completely nuts.

The thought of losing Maryella had
scrambled his brain. This was her friend in pain and he needed her
comfort.
 
But this wasn’t right.
 
She’d hold him, sing to him, talk him down
and cheer him up.
 
But not like this and
not with Lucky, the man she’d developed an instant trust and camaraderie with,
and a very promising thought of love, sitting out there waiting for her to come
back to him.
  

When Jaxon deepened his kiss, it pressed
her to reach her hands up to his cheeks.
 
Holding his face firmly, she pulled away.

“Jaxon, this isn’t right.
 
I…will always be your friend and I will
always care about what happens to you, the good and the bad.
 
I know you’re hurting, but I can’t help you
this way.”

“Trissy, this isn’t about me.
 
You’ve got it all wrong, baby
girl
. That was for you.”

“What?
 
What?
 
For me?
 
Jaxon, what…?”

“Listen, let me explain, okay?”

“I think you need to at this point.”
 
Her hands were now attached to stiff, crossed
arms.

“Something inside you is unsure about
us.”

Was he
psychotic
?
 
“Not about that!”

“Let me finish, Trissy.
 
Please?”

She nodded, sure she was being punked,
but she bit her tongue.
 

“You feel…obligated to me in a very deep,
almost morbid way.”
 
What a way to make a
girl feel pathetic.
 
She flinched and
looked down.
 
He brought her chin up with
a curled, tobacco-scented finger.
 
“I’m
not saying anything bad against you.
 
I
feel it, too.
 
But I’ve done something to
you over the years.
 
You shouldn’t be at
my beck and call anymore.”

Then stop
calling me on the verge of death!

“Then what was all this about?”
 
She swiped a knuckle deeply across her lips.

“In case you had any doubts about your
feelings for me, I wanted to give you the chance to prove to yourself that we
just don’t share that kind of chemistry.”

“Jaxon, that is so twisted.
 
I can’t even begin to tell you.”

“Maybe, but it worked.
 
Think about it, do you think there’s any way
possible you and I could ever be together?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay, so now there’s nothing stopping
you from going out there and being with Lucky.”

“No, there isn’t. You really thought that
in my subconscious mind, I was holding out for you?”

“You don’t sound like it now, but yeah, I
had to at least make sure of it.
 
I mean,
baby girl, what else could I possibly have over you that would keep you here
this whole time?”

Maybe it was sitting cross-legged like an
innocent little kid on Maryella’s bedroom floor, but she easily spit out the
truth.
 
“I owe you my life, Jaxon.”

“No, you don’t, darl’.
 
If anything, I’ve fucked you up in different
ways than what you were running from.
 
I’ve put you in situations you never should’ve been in.
 
But you’ve gone anyway, to help me.
 
And when I should have been there for you, I
haven’t been.
 
There’s only one thing I
want from you now and that’s to see you happy and healthy.
 
And that young man out there on the couch
could be the one.
 
I don’t know what you
did to him on that trip but have you seen the way he looks at you?”

Her face flushed but unless Jaxon was a
secret wish-granting genie, there was still one major problem.
 
“Jaxon, I don’t think I know how to let you
go.”

“I know.
 
But you’ve got to.”

“But, I’m so worried about you.
 
I mean, tonight…look what happened.
 
What if I hadn’t come over?
 
You could have died.”

“I promise you right here and now that I
won’t ever do this again.
 
Okay?
 
Look at me, I promise you.
 
I’ve made a mess of my life but I’m gonna
make it better.
 
I swear.”
 

She’d spent the better part of her life
keeping him alive.
 
That’s what she
couldn’t walk away from.
 

“You promise?”

“Yes.
 
I have to, not just for you but for Maryellie.”

“Okay.”
 
She believed he’d do it for his daughter.
 

Something had been settled with
Jaxon.
 
Not entirely but they were on the
right track.
 
Who knew?
 
Maybe Jaxon wasn’t completely off his rocker.
 
She didn’t really know.
 
But she was sure Lucky was the only man she
wanted kissing her.

After Jaxon excused himself to the
bathroom for a shower, she skipped out to the living room to find Lucky and
climb into his lap, wherever he may be.

She checked each room downstairs and then
all six upstairs.
 
She came back down and
went out back.
 
The trail that led to the
shore came up empty.
 
She walked the
entire outer perimeter of the house and its grounds, and then went down the
driveway to where she’d left her Jeep.
 
His duffel bag was still there tucked where he’d stowed it earlier.
 
She walked briskly back to the house and
searched for her cell phone.
 

She dialed his number, pressing hard on
the small number pads, and waited for him to answer
.
 
Where is he?
 
A grown man doesn’t just disappear
.
 
There was no answer, just a prompt after the
humorous outgoing blurt from him about trying to get lucky.
 

“Lucky, it’s me, Trista.
 
Hey, give me a call, okay?
 
I, uh, I can’t seem to find you and your
stuff is still in the Jeep.
 
Please call
me,
I’m a little worried over here, Tennessee.
 
Thanks.”

Surely he was okay but that panicky
feeling in the pit of her stomach was doing its best to convince her
otherwise.
 
She traced her steps back
down the hall to Maryella’s room.
 
It was
the last place she’d seen him.
 
He’d left
in a huff and said he’d be in the living room.
 
Then she’d closed the door for privacy.
 
And hadn’t seen him since.
 

The sun would rise soon but it was still
pitch dark outside as she looked out Maryella’s window.
 
Standing there peeved at herself was getting
her nowhere so she headed to the living room, the place he’d said he’d wait for
her.
 
With renewed focus and growing
fear, she scoured the place.
 
The lamps
had been picked up and the room looked less like a brunette, stiletto-wearing
tornado had blown through it.
 
Lucky had
done some tidying.
 
Geez, she’d left him
out here so long.

Jaxon’s custom-torqued showerhead sounded
from upstairs.
 
Maybe she hadn’t gone far
enough down the trail to the water.
 
Maybe Lucky was there, waiting for her to join him and pick up where
they’d left off at their beach.

It made the most sense.
 
What other explanation could there be?
 
She ran to find her flojos.
 
“Jaxon,” she hollered a little too loudly.
 
“I’ll be back later.
 
Don’t wait up.”
 

Oooh, it was chilly.
 
She shivered and rubbed her arms, passing the
patio and continuing down the trail along the side of the house.
 
Even though there should be no strangers
lurking out here to see it, the light poking through the open slats of
Maryella’s bedroom window called her over.
 
She’d have to remember to tell Jaxon not to leave these open at
night.
 
She stepped in closer and got a
clear view of the empty room and the koala lamp nearby. And oh geez, there went
Jaxon, in all his wet, naked glory, passing through the hallway.
 
Wherever Lucky was, she hoped this type of
thing wouldn’t offend him.
 
And then
something about that thought clicked.
 
Lucky probably wouldn’t care; guys were that way with each other.
 
But he’d sure as hell not appreciate her
seeing it.

Silly boys
.
 
Something being crushed beneath the thin sole
of her flojo caused her to look down.
 
She pulled her foot back to find she was standing in a fresh patch of
soil and mulch.
 
It was that time of year
for the springtime gardeners.
 
A poor
little flower bulb lay on its side.
 
She
tried to perk it back up, bending down and pulling up on its stem with her
fingers.
 
But it refused, slumping back
down when she released it.
 
And then to
the right, just inches away from where she stood was a larger indentation in
the soil.
 
She looked to the left,
finding its match.
 
Two
shoeprints, pointy at the top and squared at the rear.
 
The boots of a man who had
stood here in this spot.
 
Her head
spun and her breath came out in labored puffs.