Read Wilde Forever (Wilde Women Book 1) Online

Authors: Suzanne Halliday

Tags: #Wilde Women Book One

Wilde Forever (Wilde Women Book 1) (51 page)

He staggered to his feet, alarm and disgust running rampant inside him and stumbled down the stairs making quickly for the bathroom where he heaved up his guts until he was empty, raw, and damned beyond salvation. Slumping helplessly to the floor with his knees drawn up, he crossed his arms on his legs, lowered his head, and sobbed uncontrollably.

She was right there by his side, touching his head, rubbing his neck, and sobbing along with him.

“Shhh, baby. Shhh. Everything’s alright.” He heard the anguish in her voice and felt the bile rising again in his throat. “What can I do?” she wailed. “Tell me, baby. Let me help you.”

Jax freaked. He felt the aftermath of that motherfucking war sucking his soul right out of his body. He couldn’t breathe. The monster inside him had chosen quite the moment to come roaring to life leaving him begging for the black, numb limbo he remembered instead of this paralyzing, cold-blooded reality. Knowing he could have hurt her ripped him in two.

“Get out Brynn,” he barked on a sob. “Run. Get as far away from me as you can.”

She stood up but didn’t move away from his side. He could feel the tremors coming off her body. It gutted him knowing he’d caused them.

“I mean it. Get the fuck out.
Now.
I need to be alone.” Alone to wrestle with his demons before they destroyed everything.

“Okay,” she whimpered. When her hand came out to touch his head again, he flinched and pulled away. He didn’t deserve her comfort. Not right now. Not while the darkness still clung to him. A quiet sob tore from her throat at his recoil. He hung his head and watched her bare feet run from him, heard the door to the studio open then shut as she fled to safety. Away from him. Far away where the brutish devil lurking inside him couldn’t harm her.

Brynn was hyperventilating as she frantically paced back and forth trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened. She was naked underneath his dark grey dress shirt, having grabbed the first thing she saw after following behind Jax when he staggered from the loft.

One minute she’d been sitting cross-legged on the bed they’d shared, staring at his gorgeous body and handsome face as he slept, happily reliving every delicious, erotic moment of their date night, and the next thing she knew, he was moaning, his hands clutching the covers and his head thrashing back and forth. She knew a nightmare when she saw one so she reached out and gently pushed on his shoulder trying to break the spell and rouse him.

Before she knew what was happening his hand shot out and grabbed hers in a death grip that almost snapped her wrist in two. Suddenly she was sailing through the air, landing with a heavy thud on the mattress and his naked body crushing hers. She cried out as he drew back a clenched fist, screaming his name in frantic terror.

She’d held her breath until his eyes cleared and recognition seeped into his gaze only to be washed away by a horror she felt reach out to her from his soul. It was awful. When he’d run to the bathroom, hitting every wall and barrier along the way like a demented pinball, she scrambled in his wake, desperate to ease his agony. Watching him fall on his knees, shuddering violently as he vomited shook her to her innermost core.

Brynn hadn’t wanted to leave him but his anguish had gotten through loud and clear. He needed to be alone, she understood but wasn’t in any way happy about it. In very real, stark, and terrifying terms she knew that what she’d just witnessed had everything to do with the PTSD he told her about. It killed her seeing what that really meant up close and personal. My God. How had he survived?

She had no fucking idea what the hell to do now, but she did know she had to get dressed—and quickly. Running to the new downstairs bath, she showered with haste then sprinted upstairs into her tarp covered bedroom in search of clothes. When she’d removed the sapphires and diamonds before stepping under the water, Brynn had to fight back an avalanche of tears. What had started out so beautifully had gone tragically wrong so fast she was struggling to stay ahead of the terror. Didn’t take but a few seconds to locate some underwear, a pair of jeans, and an old concert t-shirt that she pulled on in record speed.

After that, she returned to the kitchen and waited, but for what she didn’t know. Brewing a cup of black tea, she tried sitting at the kitchen table, but that only made her more nervous. It was like waiting for a life-changing verdict to be handed down. Pacing seemed like her best bet so she wore a path between the kitchen and the mudroom door where she could peer out at the studio across the yard. As long as his truck remained in the driveway she would stay put, but if he made a move to leave she was going to throw herself in front of the vehicle to stop him.
Shit.
This felt like her very own Tiananmen Square.

An hour went by and then another. Because she’d been staying in the loft with him while her room was torn apart, everything she needed was out of her reach, including her phone. Fuck. She couldn’t even text him to see if he was all right.

Eventually she decided to head for the bakery. There was way too much adrenalin pouring into her system. She needed to do something besides whip herself into an emotional frenzy. Nothing positive would be served by doing that. Brynn understood instinctively she needed to keep her wits about her so when he finally did reach out, she’d be ready. This was about him, not her. Five minutes of fear didn’t come close to a couple of years living that sort of terror twenty-four seven.

He found her there a couple of hours later after she’d thrown herself into making citrus-flavored cupcakes from a batch of lemons they’d found at a roadside stand. He told her he liked anything lemony so she’d made it her mission in life to create the perfect cake and frosting, bursting with flavor, something dense and chewy the way he liked it. She’d just sprinkled lemon zest on a finished tray of perfectly sized cakes when he walked in the back door.

Jesus. He looked like bloody hell. His skin was grey, and he hadn’t shaved. Like her he’d obviously pulled on the first thing he found, a pair of worn black jeans and an equally worn dark t-shirt. The man in black had returned, only this time the color spoke more about what was so clearly evident on his face rather than a fashion statement.

He shoved his hands in his pockets making it painfully obvious he didn’t intend to touch her.
This isn’t good
, she thought. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were haunted and instead of the vibrant hazel she loved so much, they were dark and stormy.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” The pain and uncertainty in his voice was like an arrow through her heart.
Oh my God
, she thought.
This can’t be happening.
Not now.

“I’m fine. No harm done,” she said with a worried smile. “Are
you
okay?”

He shrugged and studied the floor with a deep frown on his face.

“Remember that time you told me your inclination was to offer me a hug but you didn’t because I was too upset?”

He nodded but still wouldn’t look up.

“Well, that’s me right now. If you won’t let me touch you at least tell me if you’re all right.”

The deep sigh he let out didn’t surprise her. She knew the reminder would sink in. Finally, he raised his head and let her see all the torment swirling in his soul.

“No. I’m not all right, but I’m guessing you’d already figured that out.”

“Let me help you,” she pleaded.

Jax shook his head and stared her down. “You can’t this time.”

“It’s been you telling me all these weeks that there wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed.” He grimaced, and she saw the sheen of tears in his eyes.

“Is anyone dead or dying?”

“No.”

“Did nine-one-one need to be called?”

He clenched his jaw and muttered, “Not his time.” She didn’t miss the heavy meaning evident in his choice of words.

“Then whatever it is, baby—we can make it better. Together.” She’d used his own logic to frame the problem before them.

The torment rolling off him made its way across the gulf of empty space between them and invaded her heart.
Fuck this shit
, she thought. He can stand there and be as stoic and closed off as he wanted, but she had a stake in what was going on.

Brynn crossed the kitchen and put her arms around his head, drawing him into her. He was stiff as a board but didn’t flinch or pull away. She hugged him tight and pressed a kiss on his cheek. Murmuring soft and low into his ear she told him, “I love you Jackson Merrill and there’s nothing and nobody that can change that.”

She’d had her say and there really wasn’t anymore she could do so she stepped back and waited.

“I’m going for a drive,” he muttered.

Her heart stopped.
No, no, no, no, no.
This was her worst nightmare coming true. Trying to sound calm she asked, “Are you coming back?”

This time he looked her straight in the eye and said, “Yes.”

Brynn might have been standing, but in her mind she’d slithered to the floor in a heap. If he left her now she wouldn’t survive.

Smiling gently she nodded and said, “Okay then. I guess I’ll see you later.”

When he left through the back door and headed back to the house, she stuffed her fist into her mouth to stop the sobs building in her chest from breaking free.

Jax was on autopilot as his truck meandered along beautiful country roads draped in the glorious colors of autumn. Only he didn’t see any of that. Not really. A gust of wind had sent a curtain of red and gold leaves flying through the air and for half a second he connected with the beauty of the visual and then…nothing. He was numb.

Keeping his eye on the gas gauge he frowned knowing it would be time to turn around and head back soon. He’d deliberately not stopped to fill up because if he had, he worried he’d just keep driving until the tank was empty. He wasn’t running so much as he was trying to find some balance. Get back to his center. Being alone with his thoughts as he mindlessly drove seemed like a good way to start that process.

Only thing was, all he really wanted to do was curl up in a ball, with Brynn’s arms cradling him, and hope for the best. When she’d hugged him and whispered words of love, much of the anxiety battering his emotions eased off.
That
had certainly never happened before. When he first returned home from Iraq and these episodes had been a regular occurrence, his fiancée had looked on him with annoyance and pity. Thank God he hadn’t been stupid enough to actually marry the cold-hearted bitch.

What made this time so different was the woman he knew would be trouble from the moment they met—he hadn’t been wrong. Until this morning, his nightmares had been about him dying or recalling the horror of piecing guys together while bullets zoomed by. He’d never dreamed about anyone else. Ever. The thought of losing Brynn had brought a new terror into his world. One he hadn’t been prepared for.

Jax didn’t need a therapist to tell him what all this meant. He was a smart guy. For the first time in his life, someone else’s safety and well-being took precedent over his own. She meant everything to him, and as a result, a whole new set of circumstances was jockeying for position in his head. Would he take a bullet for her? Absolutely. No hesitation. Brynn was more precious than his own life. She really was the sun, the moon, and the stars. No bullshit intended.

But that hadn’t stopped him from very nearly doing her some serious bodily harm. Not intentionally of course but that didn’t lessen the feelings of remorse and panic engulfing him. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t go back to the way things were and just pretend nothing happened. Suppose he had another nightmare? One that ended with her getting hurt?

It suddenly hit him what he needed to do. Pulling to the side of the road the first chance he could, Jax fished around till he located his phone and brought up the contact’s list. Scrolling quickly he found he number he wanted and hit the call button. Shit. What fucking day was it? He couldn’t remember at first. Oh yeah, right. Sunday. Good. He’d be at home.

The call went through and rang a few times. Finally …

“Hello?”

“Dad, it’s Jax.”

“Hey son, good to hear from you. Is everything all right?”

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