“I’ll be right back,” Jax says, leaving the table to go get our sandwiches. When he comes back, he sets my sandwich down in front of me and my mouth begins to water from the smell of grilled chicken, fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil. Then he mumbles, “Here, sweetheart,” to Hope.
He takes her grilled cheese and cuts it into small pieces, which should be sweet, but I find myself snapping, “I’m her mom; I can do that,” while attempting to take the knife out of his hand.
“You just eat,” he says softly, but I still hear the bite in his tone as he finishes cutting it up for her. Sitting there for the rest of lunch, I can feel Jax’s stare boring into me from across the table, but I don’t look at him. I either focus on Hope, or my sandwich, which should have tasted amazing, but instead, I don’t even enjoy it.
When we get to Jax’s truck and I have Hope buckled in, I can once again feel myself fighting tears.
“Bye, Mama,” Hope sings.
Giving her a kiss and hug, I fight myself from telling her I will see in a little while, and settle with telling her, “I love you, Angel baby. Be good, okay?”
“Okay, Mama.” She grins.
Shutting the door, I squeak when Jax takes my hand, pulls me to the back of his truck, and pushes me up against the tailgate, crowding my body with his and lowering his face towards mine.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on in your head right now, Ellie, but I’m telling you this. You are mine, and Hope is mine. I don’t give a fuck how hard you try to push me away; it’s not going to happen. We have happened, and I’m not taking a step back, so deal with whatever fucked up shit you have going on in your head and get over it. Tonight, we’re having dinner then spending time with my cousin. After that, I’m taking you home and eating your pussy until you beg me to stop, and then I’m going to keep going until you apologize for your shit today,” he snarls then his head ducks, and his mouth latches onto my neck. I feel him pull the skin there into his mouth so hard that I cry out and my legs get weak.
Wrapping my hands around his shoulders, I hold on to keep from falling, when he lifts his mouth away from my neck and kisses me softly. “See you at seven,” he says, leading me to the sidewalk. Then he places another kiss on my mouth before going to his truck and getting in behind the wheel. Opening and closing my mouth, I stand there on the sidewalk, watching as he pulls away, then turn around and go into the salon.
“You have a hickey,” Kim whispers, covering her mouth while using her free had to point at my neck. Looking in the mirror, I take a deep breath and grit my teeth. Not only do I have a hickey, but I have a huge, dark purple hickey that will likely never go away.
“So classy,” I hear Mellissa say from the chair she’s in across the salon, and without thinking, I turn and look at her, mouthing, Jealous, before pulling out my concealer from my bag and covering the damn thing up.
Chapter 7
Jax
“Hey, you,” Ashlyn greets quietly with her eyes on Hope in my arms as she opens the door to our parents’ house. “Mom and Dad are out back.”
“I’ll be out in a minute. I’m going to lay her down; she passed out in the truck on the way over here,” I tell her, and she follows me down the hall toward my old room, which mom turned into a guest room as soon as I moved out.
Settling Hope on the bed and covering her with a blanket, I press a kiss to her forehead then follow Ashlyn out of the room, asking, “What are you doing here?”
Ashlyn is a receptionist for our family dentist. She got the job a few years ago when she started going to dental school. “Got off work early and just wanted to stop by.” She shrugs, but I can tell it’s something else from the look in her eyes.
“What happened?” I repeat.
“You know you’re annoying right?” she asks, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and taking a sip.
“So I’ve been told. So what happened?” I ask, grabbing a bottle for myself.
“Gregory is selling his practice,” she says, and I’m not surprised. Every time I have to see him, I worry he’s going fill the wrong tooth, or worse. His glasses have progressively gotten thicker each year, and his hands aren’t as steady as they used to be.
“We all knew it was coming. He’s what, seventy now?”
“Seventy-two.” She nods.
“So you can come work for me. You know I need a receptionist, since things have picked up.”
Snorting, she shakes her head. “No, thanks. He sold it to a guy named Dillon. He seems like a dick, but I’d rather work for a dick than my brother until school is done,” she mutters.
“So you’ve met the guy?” I ask her, and she nods again, leaning back against the counter behind her.
“Yeah, he just moved here from New York. I guess in the dental world he’s some big shot.” She rolls her eyes.
“Did he say you could keep your job?”
“He said he would need to ‘re-interview’ me,” she says, using finger quotes. “His words were, ‘I don’t need pretty objects around to look at. I need someone who knows what they’re doing working with me.’”
Frowning at that, I wonder if I should go have a talk with Dillon myself.
“Don’t even think about it,” she says, reading my face. “He’s a dick, but if he thinks anyone can do a better job than me, I’d like to see that person. I’ve worked with Gregory for the last three years. I only have a year of night classes left before I graduate, and then I can move to another practice.”
“Well, if you want me to kick his ass, I will,” I tell her, and a smile twitches her lips.
“I can handle him,” she says after a moment of thinking about it.
“I do think it’s kinda funny there is finally a guy who isn’t susceptible to your charm,” I tell her honestly. Men normally flock to my baby sister, which is annoying, but also true.
“Well, maybe he will be susceptible to cyanide,” she mutters under her breath, which makes me even more curious about Dillon.
“You know I got your back,” I tell her, moving out the backdoor to the sunroom.
Mom had the room built onto the house a year ago, when she decided to stop teaching and stay home. Walking through the sliding door, I’m not surprised to find my parents sitting close together on one of the couches, Mom with her feet tucked under her and my dad leaning back against the couch, with his arm wrapped around her.
“Where’s my girl?” Mom asks, looking around me for Hope.
“She’s in the guestroom. She fell asleep in the truck on the way over here.”
“Are you okay?” she asks, tilting her face and studying me.
“I’m good.” I nod, sitting down across from them on one of the chairs.
“What happened?” She frowns.
“How do you know something happened?” I ask.
“You have the same look on your face that your sister had when she came in,” Mom explains.
“I didn’t have a look,” Ashlyn complains, plopping down in the chair next to me, and my mom looks at her and shakes her head.
“You did, and then you went off about Dillon the Dick for a good twenty minutes,” my dad says, grinning.