Sidewalk Flower (49 page)

“Hey man, you okay?” Stefan asked Jaxon.

Jaxon’s head bobbed up and he rubbed at
the saliva dripping down his chin.
 
“Fuck
no, man.”
 

“You wanna tell me about it?”

“No,” Jaxon said.
 

She understood more from that one word
answer than anyone could ever know.

Stefan patted Jaxon on the back but Jaxon
shrugged him off so he went and returned to the open door of the truck and
waited.
 
The vomiting eventually ran its
course and Jaxon joined them, looking more trashed out than he ever had during
his practicing days.
 
He wiped at his
mouth and took a seat beside her.
 
She
found his pinky finger and hooked it with hers low so the guys wouldn’t
see.
 
Stefan hopped in and closed the
door and then the four of them rode in silence until they’d cleared the wooded
surrounding area and reached the highway.
 
She noticed Lucky kept both hands on the steering wheel.
 
And as much as his shoulder called out to her
aching head, she knew this wasn’t the place or time for that.

“I’m gonna call Mike and have him arrange
for a discreet back entrance at the hotel and a doctor.
 
Lucky, when we get there, pull behind to the
deliveries entrance,” Stefan said, taking control of their logistics.

It was the wee hours of the morning.
 
They were all four withered and spent.
 
She doubted their ability to figure anything
more than where to pull in when they got to the hotel even if they’d have had
the buildings plans.
 

She supposed they’d just play it by ear
for the next few days, hashing out explanations to the very minimum of inside
people who needed to know.
 
As for the
four of them, who knew?
 
What answers could
she make up when there wasn’t a single piece of her that didn’t feel absolutely
lost and unsure?
  
What had happened out
at the venue that night?
 
Hell, she
supposed.
 
The gate
keeper maybe?
 
Had he heard her
thoughts about leaving her privileged life and decided to send in his muscle to
make sure it didn’t happen?
 
Ultimately,
whatever answer would come in regards to her life at that very moment would
have to
wait.
 
For now, the only thing she craved was to stay holed up long enough to
regain her strength.
  
She’d fight the
devil later.

Chapter
Thirty-One

Big Mike, a hefty and serious looking
man, helped her, Lucky, Stefan and Jaxon in through a back entrance of the
hotel.
 
He secured a vacant elevator up
to their twenty-first floor and clear hallways to their rooms.
 
Mike’s ability to control the elements had
become invaluable over the years.
 
If
only her call to him would have gone through…but it hadn’t.

Stefan crowed over and over that Jaxon
see
a doctor.
 
But he
refused.
 
It would be dicey getting up on
stage in enough camouflage to keep his black eyes and cut up skin hidden but it
was possible.
 
Sadly, they’d all seen
Jaxon come back looking worse than this on occasion.
 
They’d handle it and get him fixed up.
 
But her mirror?
 
It should have cracked.
  
Her complexion resembled cement caked with
patches of dried up junkie blood.
 
Forget
about her eyes, it was the tight skin stretched from cheekbone over nose to the
other cheekbone that hurt too badly to allow for crying.

It was time to call an end to this
nightmare.
 
They all needed the rest
Stefan kept insisting they get.
 
So after
a brief conversation with Mike, they broke up and went back to their rooms.

Jaxon had faltered at the split, the one
where he and Stefan turned to head left and she and Lucky went right.
 

“We’ll take care of her, bud,” Stefan,
Mike and Lucky promised Jaxon.
 

Of course that wouldn’t be good enough
for him.
 
The same way she wouldn’t have
been satisfied being told Jaxon would be fine until the morning.
 
They may never be
fine
again.
 
But what could
they do?
 
Apparently the message was
clear to everyone: Jaxon James and Trista Hart should never be left alone
together.
 
Period.
 

Her wish for Jaxon’s sanity right now was
that he would know she was safe with Lucky.
 
There was no need to rock the boat or risk upsetting anyone by insisting
he be the one to stay with her.
 
She knew
that’s how his protective big brother side felt inside.
 

“Fine,” Jaxon said, using the wall to
stay upright before turning the corner.

“Goodnight,” she mouthed his way.

Under Lucky’s protective arm, she made it
back to her room, withdrawn but accepting she’d wake up in the morning.
 
There was no secret cave for extreme feelings
anywhere in her body.
 
She should be
either crippled with fear or bursting with relief.
 
Instead, she was numb.

“Thank you for the bath.”
 
She wouldn’t tell him how much it hurt her
raw skin because he was doing his best to be gentle.
 
And his eyes hadn’t strayed from her back to
gawk not once.

“You’re welcome,” Lucky said softly as he
dampened a sponge and rubbed it cautiously against her overstimulated
skin.
 

Sitting hunched over with her knees
tucked into her chest, she let him very gingerly run some jasmine scented
conditioner through the knots of her tangled hair.
 

“Thank you.”
 
These were the pleasantries she’d worried
about earlier.
 

She finished the long slow bath and then
allowed Lucky to slip her arms into a hotel robe so soft and plush that she had
to hug herself in its comfort.
 
She began
to thank him again but he stopped her.

“Hey,” he cupped her chin in the one spot
it wasn’t scraped, “You don’t have to keep thanking me.
 
I want to help you.
 
I wouldn’t know what to do with myself
otherwise.”

She nodded, understanding that last part
full well.

“Trista, I’m just glad you’re okay.”
 
He stroked her hair like he’d done so many
times.

She yawned one of those yawns you get
from not having enough oxygen rather than being tired.
 

“Let me help you to the bed.”

She was exhausted but didn’t want to
sleep or eat or talk or be alone.
 
She
shook her head no.
 
“Can we just sit?”
she asked.

“Sure.”
 
It was obvious the level of care this man was capable of.
 
He’d never used anything other than a soft,
tender touch with her and it seemed like his compassion was endless.

She just wanted to feel safe and have no
expectations put on her.
 
Lucky provided
that as they sat silently on the loveseat, her head on his shoulder.
 
I’ll
never be good enough for you Lucky.
 
Not
after tonight.

* * * *

Jaxon stepped out of the scalding hot shower,
the cuts and scrapes he’d received made fresh again.
 
Damn, for the pain he’d inflicted on these
wounds by standing under the pummeling water, he still didn’t feel clean.

He’d
broke
a few
ribs before and could tell these were just badly bruised.
 
The gashes and swelling on his face would go
down eventually.
 
His kidneys were sore
but unless he started urinating blood, he wasn’t going to worry about it.
 

The thing driving him bananas right now
was his complete restlessness.
 
He tried
to wrap his head around what had happened but ended up pacing the room.
 
Mostly, he worried about Trissy.
 
He was hardened enough mentally and
physically to make it past the ugly side of human nature they’d endured
together.
 
The question of what would
have happened had Lucky and Stefan not shown up when they did continued to nag
at his thoughts.
 
Even with all the
promises he’d been given tonight, there was no escaping his need to know Trissy
was okay.
 
It wasn’t enough that she was
in a safe place with a safe person.
 

He had to see for himself.
 
He headed to her room.
 

* * * *

Lucky took care to ease himself up from
the loveseat to answer the door.
 
“I’ll
be right back.”
 
Trista just nodded and
slumped against the cushioned arm.

Through the peephole, he saw Jaxon’s
distorted head.
  
He opened the door and
stepped out into the hallway but kept his hand lodged in the door jam.
 
Geez, Jaxon looked like he’d pissed off the
wrong Mac truck.
 
They shouldn’t stay out
there long but it appeared they agreed talking in front of Trista was a bad
idea.
 
Unexpectedly, he wasn’t filled
with hatred for his cousin.

“Look man, I’m sure you did your best
tonight.
 
I acted like an ass right at
first because I had no idea what was going on.
 
I mean, I still don’t, but if you need to talk, I’m here.”
 
He folded his hands together as a gesture
that he really held no ill will towards Jaxon.

Jaxon nodded but stayed planted in the
hallway.
 
“Lucky, I need to speak with
Trissy, alone.”
 

He guessed he knew that was coming.
 
Whatever had happened, neither Jaxon nor
Trista seemed ready to discuss it with him.
 
They stepped back inside Trista’s room where she now sat on the end of
the bed.
 
She acknowledged she wasn’t the
only one in the room by looking up but made no attempt at conversation with
either of them.
 

The silence became awkward so he offered
to go back to his room to give them some time.
 
“Is that all right with you, Trista?”

“Yes,” she said solemnly, her eyes empty.

He left against his better judgment.

* * * *

Once they were alone, he went to her and
embraced her in the most pleading and desperate hug he’d ever known.

“God Trissy, I’m so glad you’re okay,” he
said, softening his embrace as if he’d just remembered what they’d gone
through.
 
The physical
pain still humming through their bodies.

They’d plummeted into this crazy
situation and then been yanked out so fast that even Superman wouldn’t have had
enough time to come to terms with it.
 
If
Trissy’s thoughts and nerves and emotions were anything like his right now,
they were still a contorted hissing jumble that needed to be stripped down and
rewired.
  
Until they accomplished that,
there would be no answers, explanations, or closure for themselves or their
well-meaning friends.
 

“Jaxon, I am not okay.”
 
She tenderly put her fingertips to the skin
of his face, trying to find the spots that weren’t bruised and cut and
hurting.
 
“And neither are you.”

He knew she was right.
 
His back throbbed with pain from his beating
but he lay back onto her bed in spite of it and then held out his hand to help
her ease back and take the space beside him.
 
She winced and rolled to her side instead.
 
The fact that she faced
away from him hurt.
 
Where did he
go from here with his best friend?
 
How
did he fix it?
 

After a while, he reached his hand out to
smooth her curls against the pillow.
 
Her
hair was damp and smelled like sweet flowers.
 
She’d washed it.
 
He didn’t know
why but that one thought made him almost want to cry.
 
It was such a simple act but one she may not
have lived to ever do again.
 

Because of him and her
attachment to his sordid midnight world.