Jagged Harts, page 12
Leaning forward I brush my lips against Dax’s, if anything but to satisfy the curiosity that I have caught myself having over what Dax may taste like. He always smells of leather and mint, but he doesn’t taste like it. He tastes like sin and darkness. It is fucking addicting. I want nothing more than to surround myself in it, to revel in it for all of my days.
That single thought is enough to snap me out of this lust filled haze we have found ourselves in. Dax brushes his tongue along the seam of my lips but instead of opening up for him like my body desperately wants to, I push on his chest. He pulls back and looks at me questioningly as I shake my head.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” I say brusquely as I begin re-building the wall I accidently dropped.
His curiosity fades and what looks almost like irritation takes its place. He gives a sharp nod before holding out the sleep shirt for me to take. I keep my eyes on him as he stares down at me with a clenched jaw as I carefully slip into the shirt. No way in fuck am I going to ask him for help, not even if it killed me.
Dax turns on his heel and grabs my desk chair, spinning it to face me before he sits down. I furrow my brows at him as I lift my blankets and slide underneath them.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching over you. You can’t be asleep for too long with a concussion. You need to be monitored.”
I shake my head. I need him out of my space before I do something stupid like invite him into my bed.
“I will set alarms. I’m fine. You should go.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Aubrey. Just shut the hell up for once and try to get some sleep while you can.”
Opening my mouth, I begin to argue until I see the fierce look slashed across his face. It isn’t just one that brokers no arguments, it looks harsh, angry, maybe even hurt? I give him a soft nod before I settle into a comfortable position. Well, as comfortable as I can get.
I close my eyes just as I hear Dax rustling around in my room. I am about to open my eyes and ask him what the hell he is doing when I feel the cold chill of an ice pack press against my tender ribs through my sheet. I am about to thank him when I feel warm lips press against my temple, the same exact spot that Collins’ meaty fist drilled into. The kiss lasts several seconds, and I don’t miss the deep inhale Dax takes before he retreats.
As soon as his touch is gone, I miss it. Which only proves how important it was for me to end our kiss earlier or how it shouldn’t have happened at all. Dax is dangerous for me. He makes me feel too much. I am not in control of myself or my emotions around him and those are two things that I can’t afford. We need distance, I need distance. I can’t let my guard down, no matter how much, for the first time, I want to.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
AUBREY
When I woke up the next morning, my desk chair was empty, and Dax was gone. Of course, that was after he woke me up every fucking two hours like a damn drill sergeant. I swear if I could have physically gotten out of bed, I would have kicked his ass.
All of the times that he woke me up, we stayed silent. He would ask me what I would rate my pain, give me a fresh ice pack and some water and then try to convince me to take his pills. Each time I vehemently turned him down and told him to fuck off. The pain got so bad around three in the morning that I caved and took a couple of ibuprofens. It didn’t do much, but it did take the edge off. Fuck. I haven’t been messed up like this in a while. I think I went into that fight thinking that I would come out a little better off than I did. But what was I really expecting? Collins is pushing 300lbs, he is a fucking ogre.
Unfortunately, I have work today so I will have to get my ass out of this bed at some point, but I don’t go in until four and I am only working until ten so it could be worse. I don’t think I will be able to fall back asleep now, so I opt to spend my day watching trash tv and ordering takeout.
When it is time to get ready for my shift I very slowly peel myself out from my warm bed and make my way to the shower. Every step jostles my ribs as well as every breath. Thank God I have a high pain tolerance otherwise I think I would be curled up in a ball right now. I spend way more time than I probably should have in the shower, but the warm water felt so good I didn’t want it to end.
Once I am out of the shower and dressed, I go to my mirror and pause. Fuck. I didn’t realize I was looking that bad. The cut to my cheek is already starting to close but it is swollen and red as well as some lovely bruising surrounding it. I also have that same wonderful swelling and bruising around my nose, left eye and even at my temple. I look like I got in a fight and lost, bad. I mean, I did get in a fight but I sure as fuck didn’t lose.
I rummage through my room and am able to find a bottle of concealer that Kayla must have left here the last time that she was over. I begin rubbing it on all of my problem areas which is pretty much my whole damn face. Kayla is a little paler than me, so it is a little too white, but it looks a hell of a lot better than it did. Still, I have a feeling Marcus isn’t going to be happy with me being the face of his bar to his customers.
Walking into The White Oak, I do my best to keep my head down. I hatched this elaborate plan that if I keep my head down as much as possible and have Cole take all of the orders then I can probably hand out the food without anyone noticing my face too much. No one cares about the face of the person bringing your food, your eyes automatically go to the food, right?
Unfortunately, the one flaw in my plan was that I wasn’t expecting Marcus to be tending bar front and center of the door. He sees me the instant that I step in through the door. He glances up casually before his eyes widen slightly.
“Damn, girl. What the hell happened to you?”
“You should see the other guy,” I halfheartedly joke.
From what I remember of Collins face after Dax was done with it, I look like a pageant queen in comparison. Unfortunately, Marcus doesn’t think my joke is very funny. His brows furrow and he looks like he is ready to ream me. Before he can say anything, Cole walks around the corner all smiles until his eyes land on my face. His eyes widen in horror as his mouth literally drops.
“Darlin’? What happened!” He nearly shouts as he rushes over to me.
I try to tell him to be careful or to stay back but he is too damn fast as he pulls me into a bone crushing hug. Ow. My body instinctually curls in on itself to protect my injured ribs, but it does little to help. Before I can tell Cole to get the hell off me, a rough voice shouts out over my shoulder.
“Simmons! Let her go! You are hurting her you, dipshit,” Dax growls.
Cole quickly lets me go, still keeping his hands on my upper arms as he takes me in. His eyes are worried as they scan over my face and land on where my hands are cradling my ribs.
“Did I hurt you?” Cole asks.
The puppy dog eyes he is throwing me are too much and I can’t bear to answer truthfully. So, I force out a smile and shake my head.
“No. You are fine.”
“Don’t fucking lie to him, short stuff. Only an idiot bum rushes someone that walks in looking as rough as you do.”
I narrow my eyes as I look over my shoulder and sneer at Dax.
“Gee, thanks.”
He rolls his eyes at me like I am being ridiculous before he settles a glare on Cole. Fortunately, Cole doesn’t notice because his worried eyes have yet to leave me.
“Darlin’, who did this to you? What happened?”
I shrug. “Fight night. Fucker was pretty big.”
“And a fucking cheat,” Dax snaps.
Marcus’s brows furrow as he turns to Dax and calls him over. They share a hushed conversation that seems fairly heated based on Dax’s face and the raising level of their whispers.
“You fought? Against a man?” Cole asks in disbelief.
I am a little offended that he seems so surprised.
“You knew that I trained,” I point out.
“Well, yeah. But I thought you just like worked out and maybe sparred occasionally. I had no idea that you had intentions of actually fighting anyone, let alone grown men. I would have talked you out of it.”
I let out an amused chuckle even though I am quickly becoming anything but.
“Oh yeah? You would have, huh?”
Cole gives me an exasperated look and shakes his head as his hands slip off of my shoulders.
“Come on, Aubrey. It is dangerous, clearly. Just look at your face. I don’t even know what is wrong with your stomach but from the way you are favoring it I am going to guess that it isn’t good.”
He isn’t wrong. The bruises covering my ribs are nasty and large. But fuck him for thinking he can tell me what to do with my spare time or my body.
“Fuck off, Cole. You are out of line,” I warn.
He shakes his head vehemently, clearly not dropping this.
“No, I won’t. I care about you too much to sit back and watch you get hurt like this. Promise me you will never fight again.”
My eyes bug out. He can’t be serious, can he? I am fucking speechless at the nerve of someone who is supposedly my best friend. Does he even realize what he is asking of me? That I need to fight to breathe, to live. No, he probably doesn’t but that is irrelevant.
Dax butts in again before I can say anything.
“Chill out, Simmons. Aubrey held her own in a totally unfair fight. She never should have been up against someone like Collins, and she still won. She is a grown woman and can make her own decisions. She doesn’t need you trying to tell her what to do. It’s the 21st century, dickhead.”
Well said, Dax.
Cole swings his narrowed eyes over to Dax as he crosses his arms across his chest.
“How do you know so much about this, Hart? I’m assuming you stood by and let this happen?”
Dax scoffs. “Of course, I was there. I dropped out of my fight last minute and she volunteered to take my place before I even got there. When I showed up the fight was already on, but I was there the entire time. Especially when Collins hit her after he tapped. He was the last man to disrespect Aubrey and last I checked he is in the ICU. So, you may want to change the attitude there, Simmons, before you share a room with him,” Dax says in a low tone that holds nothing but promise.
“Enough!” Marcus snaps as he rests a hand on Dax’s chest. “You,” he says pointing to Cole, “back to the floor.” “You,” he says pointing to Dax, “back to the kitchen.” Then his eyes swing on me and my stomach dips at the anger on his face.
Ah, fuck.
“You, go home and don’t come back until you are all healed up. I don’t need you scaring the shit out of our customers before they even get their drinks.”
Fuck. It will take at least a week and a fuck ton of make up before my bruises will fade enough. I can’t afford to not work for that long. I go to argue with him, but he holds up a hand, silencing me. I hang my head and turn on my heel to head back to my dorm.
I only make it a few steps out the door before a hand catches my elbow. I expect it to be Cole, probably apologizing for being a dick, but surprisingly it is Dax.
“Hey. We left in kind of a hurry last night and Cameron wasn’t able to give you your winnings from the fight.”
Dax holds up a rolled-up wad of money that looks like a ton. Slowly, I take it out of his hand as I examine it.
“It’s three grand,” Dax says.
My eyes bug out at his words.
“Holy fuck. Is the pot always so high?”
He shakes his head.
“Nah. That is a lot more than what the winnings normally are. The odds of you losing were 32 to 1. Paid off pretty nice,” Dax smirks softly.
“Fucking a, I’ll say. This is going to help with the whole not working thing.”
“Sorry. I should have warned you about that. I could see if Marcus will let you cook. I could wait tables if you want?”
I cringe. “I wish but I am a shit cook.”
He nods, not saying anything more but not leaving either.
“Thanks,” I finally say after a little while. “For looking out for me yesterday and all night. You didn’t have to.”
His mouth twitches slightly before it straightens out and he nods.
“You got it, short stuff. Figured now we are square.”
I nod at that. I like being even. Owing anyone anything is a dangerous game. My eyes involuntarily flick down to his lips as I think about a few things that I wouldn’t totally hate doing to show my thanks but quickly brush it aside. I pushed him away for a reason last night.
“I opened this morning for Marcus, that’s why I wasn’t there when you woke up. I was going to go home and get a couple hours of sleep. You could come over a little later if you want?”
I furrow my brows at that.
“You are going to work on Betty today?”
“Nah. Not today. I was just gonna lounge out, watch some movies, make some dinner, ya know?”
Nodding, I pause. Is it bad that I kind of want to come over? Yes. It is definitely bad. I need space from Dax. Hanging out with him at his house, watching movies and eating dinner sounds way too intimate for me and the exact opposite of space. So, begrudgingly I shake my head.
“I think I am just going to go do the same.”
Dax nods and ducks his head for a second but I don’t miss the flash of disappointment that passes across his face. When he lifts it back up, the look is gone but I know what I saw. He stares at me with a hardened mask like he is forcing himself to detach. Trust me dude, I am trying to do the same.
“Alright. Well, I will text you when I work on Bonnie next.”
I smirk at his intentional wrong name before I nod.
“Sounds good. Thanks again.”
Dax nods his head before turning on his heel and heading inside while I slowly hobble back to campus.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
AUBREY
My bruising slowly faded from the violent black and blue to a nasty looking green and yellow. It took 8 days before I could go back to work without Marcus shooing me away. The first few days were actually pretty nice. Besides class, I spent most of my time in bed resting. My ribs are still tender as fuck, but they are getting a little better every day which is good.
Over the last week when I wasn’t resting I was hanging out with Kayla and Cole. Cole apologized the day after I left The White Oak for how he talked to me. He explained that he was freaking out because he didn’t like that I was hurt, which I get and all, but he has to learn that fighting isn’t something that I could ever just give up. Not for anyone. It saved my fucking life in more ways than one and I will be damned if I let anyone take that from me.
A few times I even went and helped Dax with Betty. Well, I call it helping. I am pretty sure that he classifies it as me bugging the shit out of him but whatever. He has taught me some basic things that I didn’t know before which is cool and I feel like I have a good understanding of how Betty works now. I even gave Dax some ideas on alternate ways to fix things but much to my dismay, he ignored every suggestion. I mean, it is my car, shouldn’t I have a say in things?
When I wasn’t giving Dax helpful advice or learning about how to ‘properly’ change my oil, I mainly napped. It started off one day with me laying down on my couch (Because it is totally mine now) in Dax’s garage. I closed my eyes for half of a second and I fell into a deep dreamless sleep. It was practically blissful.
Once I woke up, a soft blanket was laid over me as Dax quietly worked away on Betty. I didn’t comment on the fact that he went out of his way to make me comfortable, and he certainly wasn’t looking for a thank you either. He was just being nice which is something that I am starting to realize that Dax does a lot for others if you really pay close attention.
Now it has become practically a routine. I come over, shoot the shit with him for an hour or so, take a cat nap before either ordering take out or heading home. We have fell into a comfortable little routine that has alarm bells screaming inside my head, but I do my best to ignore them. I keep telling myself that as long as I don’t cross any more lines with Dax, like kissing him while I am half naked in bed, then being comfortable hanging out with him is safe enough, for now at least.
I come walking in through his door on Friday afternoon, carrying a big bag of street tacos from that food truck he told me about a while ago. I see Dax standing over Betty as he works on something under the hood. I breeze past him and dump our food onto the bar top in the corner before I turn to him.
“Hey. So, I got street tacos, but before you start being all ungrateful and saying, ‘you can’t eat that shit,’ just know that I have zero problem eating them all by myself, so your loss if you’re gonna be a bitch.”
I give him a mock scowl, waiting for him to crack a smile or give me shit for how much I eat but instead all I get is a grunt in response.
My joking attitude fades as I look at him more intently now. His eyes are blood shot and a little puffy. Has he been crying? Oh fuck. Something is definitely wrong. I cross the space between us and put my hand on his bicep. He tenses under my touch but doesn’t push me away.
“Dax,” I say gently. “What’s wrong?”
“Just a shit day,” he says quietly while continuing to wrench on something.
I nod in understanding. God knows I have had my fair share of days like that.
“You know you can talk to me, right? I mean if you want,” I offer with a weak smile.
He looks me in the eye for the first time today and I suddenly notice that his emerald eyes aren’t their usual vivid color. Today they look dull and sullen. He stares at me blankly for a few moments and I almost think that he isn’t going to respond until he finally speaks.
“My mom died four years ago today.”
