Fighting Ever After (Ever After #3) (16 page)

I laughed
when Princess fell on her ass trying to get to the ball.
Again.
As cute as she was, she didn’t belong anywhere near a volleyball court, but it was
amusing watching her. What was even better was that she was competitive as
hell, so it couldn’t be said that she wasn’t trying. The next time the ball
came her way, she actually managed to make contact with it and sent it
spiraling right over the net and into Bas’ face. She cringed and pulled her
hand up over her mouth as he rubbed his head.

“Nice shot
brat,” he called.

“Sorry,” she
mumbled while the rest of us laughed. That was the first and last point she
scored for her team, but it wasn’t the last time she hit someone with the ball.
She hit Marcus who was standing off to the side watching the match. She hit
Jake, who was on her own team, and she even managed to nail Chris, when he was
about twenty feet away, manning the grill. It was a miracle that her team even
managed to win one game. I think that had more to do with the amount of alcohol
Danny and Spade had consumed by that point when they played them.

 The
rest of the evening was spent giving Princess a bad time, and hanging around
outside until the sun sunk behind the water. Even long after the sun had gone
down, we sat around the patio just talking while Spade and I strummed on our
guitars. Slowly the group dwindled as they made their way in to bed. Ace,
Chris, Bas and I were the last ones standing, or sitting, but eventually even
they got up and headed in. I remained out on the patio with my guitar, until my
fingers were too chilled and tired to pluck another chord, but even then I
couldn’t sleep.  I couldn’t remember the last time the music had come to
me like this, and I couldn’t let it slip away. I snuck quietly upstairs and dug
one of the notebooks I used for writing out of my bag and headed back down,
pausing only to pick up the blanket Princess had kicked off the bed and cover
her. I couldn’t stop my hand from reaching out and brushing the hair out of her
face. She emitted a soft sleepy noise and snuggled into the blankets deeper.

I couldn’t
name the weird, longing feeling in my gut, or maybe I didn’t want to, but I’m
pretty sure it had something to do with the next six hours that I spent down in
the kitchen writing. I added a few more verses to the song I’d been working on
before and played around a little with the arrangement.

Hey little
girl

With the
ribbons in your hair

Your head
full of fairytale dreams

That the
world tried to take

I see the
tears you cry

Clinging for
dear life

To the
memory of an angel who went too soon

That was all
I got on that one, but I didn’t stop there, couldn’t. The music wouldn’t stop.
It was pouring out of me. I would write the words as they popped into my head,
working and reworking them, erasing and rewriting until they were perfect. I
only took breaks to brew coffee and use the bathroom. The next thing I knew the
sun was coming up again and I hadn’t slept in I don’t even know how long. My
nose was still buried in my notebook when Ace and Bas came down a while later.
We moved out to the deck with our coffee.

“Have you
even slept yet?” Ace asked.

“No,” I answered
without looking up, but still I caught his smile out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s been a
long time since I’ve seen you like this. Wonder what could possibly be so
inspiring.”

I ignored
him.

Over the
next hour, the table grew more crowded as everyone woke up. Princess was one of
the last to join us, and I was so caught up in my writing that I only became
aware of her presence when Bas muttered, “Good morning Sleeping Beauty,” and
then I heard the chair across from me pull out. I had one foot resting against
the edge of the table, my chair tipped back, resting against the side of the
house and my notebook in my lap, pulled far enough back that no one could read
what I was working on. I wasn’t sure yet where it was going, or if it was even
something I would share, but I knew I had to write it. I had to get it out. I’d
finished one song for the band, but this one was for me. This one didn’t need
to be shared with anyone, especially not her, because it held all the things I
wanted, but couldn’t say to her, all the ways I wished I could be what she
needed.

 “He
was the first one awake. He’s been going at that all morning,” I heard
Vi
say even though I hadn’t heard a question.

“What’s he
doing?”
Jax’s
voice followed.

“Lyrics,”
Ace answered. “Once he finds inspiration he’s like a mad man and doesn’t stop
until he gets it all down on paper and then reworks it over and over until he
thinks it’s just right. He’ll probably be sitting there for another couple of
hours.

“You know I can
hear you guys, right?” I asked, still not looking up.

“Yeah, we
know man. Just keep writing.”

“Then shut
up and quit talking about me asshole.”

“Hey, she
asked. I was just sharing with her your creative process dickhead.”

“Well I’d
ask for your input, but the only difference between a bassist and a vacuum, is
you have to plug the vacuum in for it to suck.”

“Funny, asshole.”
It was actually funny. Ace hated it when we made
bassist jokes. So we pretty much did it all the time. It didn’t matter that
he’s actually one hell of a musician.

“Hey Ace, why couldn’t the bass player get through the door?
He couldn’t find the
right key and didn’t know when to come in.”

Bas and
Chris chuckled and I ducked when Ace threw an empty red plastic cup, left on
the table from last night. I laughed and we kept going back and forth. I tossed
the cup back at him, and the next time he threw it, I accidently rocked
forward, slamming into the table. After that things happened quickly. I heard
something hit the table and an audible gasp followed by
Jax’s
chair scraping across the deck as she practically jumped out of her seat,
ripping her shirt off.

“Oh shit,
are you okay Jax?”
Vi
asked, jumping up behind her.
“I’ll go grab some ice,” she said, rushing inside the house. It occurred to me
that
Vi’s
coffee must have spilled and burned Jax
because now she was standing in front of us all in nothing but her bra and
pajama bottoms. Just as I’d thought, she was perfect. Lean, but feminine in all
the right places, and yet I was sickened. I wish I could
unsee
what I saw, because her perfection was marred by ugly, jagged scars that ran up
her stomach. Marks like that didn’t belong on anyone, but especially not her.
Suddenly she stopped wiping at her chest and froze in place when she realized
everyone was seeing what I was.
Vi
returned, gasping
and dropping the ice pack when she too noticed, which meant even she hadn’t
been aware of the scars.

Bas was
quick in tearing off his own shirt and handing it to her, but it was too late.
Even covered, we all knew they were there now. “Fuck Princess,” my voice tore
from my throat. “What did he do to you?” I knew that sick fuck Connor was
responsible for this.

Her eyes
glistened with tears that I knew she was fighting to contain. Her head dropped
in shame, or embarrassment, and she ran back inside the house. I couldn’t
control the rage I felt burning inside me. I knew I had a temper, I was always
an angry kid, but this was like nothing I’d ever felt. I wanted to kill
someone, and more than ever I realized just how helpless I was to do anything
for Princess. I grabbed my own coffee mug off the table and threw it against
the side of the house, causing it to shatter.
Vi
jumped, but nobody said anything. I had to get out of there. I couldn’t process
anything beyond my hatred and anger. My feet carried me down the steps and to
my bike. I’d left the key in the ignition, not worried about it out here, and I
was thankful for that now as it allowed me a quick getaway. I swung my leg over
the seat, started it up and tore down the drive, not even bothering with a
helmet.

The road was
full of curves and bends, but with each one I only pushed the bike harder,
faster, not caring how dangerous it was to take the turns at those speeds. It
was reckless, stupid, risky, but I just didn’t give a fuck. My chest hurt, my
stomach felt sick and all I could see were the scars.
The
scars that someone put there.
Someone did that to her. Not just someone
– Connor. I knew without a doubt that it was him.

I kept going
until I hit the town, only then did
I
finally slow
down. If I was going to go to jail, it wasn’t going to be for speeding.
The way I was feeling, it would probably be for murder.
The
sheer terror in
Jax’s
eyes those nights.
The secrets about Connor.
Bas and Chris’
protectiveness.
Everything was clicking into place. I’d known that he
hurt her. I knew whatever she went through was bad, but nothing prepared me to
see the scars, to have it all confirmed, and I knew a thing or two about scars.
Those ones were from deep wounds.

I came to a
stop at a red light. On my right there was a little clothing shop; ladies
shorts and swimsuits hung in the window.
Swimsuits.
Fuck.
 
Just one more thing that made sense now.
I
pulled over into the parking lot and got out. I’m not really sure why, other
than I felt like I needed to. It felt right, and when I came back out with the
bag in my hand, my head felt slightly clearer. I realized I’d acted like a
jackass, flipping out and taking off. Whatever I was feeling was nothing
compared to what she must be feeling right now. I remembered the shame and
embarrassment on her face when I asked her what had happened. I should have
taken her into my arms even though it wasn’t my right to do so. I should have
told her it was okay. I should have told her that her scars didn’t matter, that
they were nothing to be ashamed of. They were proof of her strength, that she
was a survivor, and even though they were harsh against her fair skin, they did
nothing to take away from how beautiful she was. I should have told her all
that, but I hadn’t. We’d all stared at her like she was a freak, and there was
no way she didn’t hear me shatter that mug. Suddenly all I wanted was to get
back to her. I tucked the small sack into my sweatshirt, hopped back on my bike
and headed for the house.

When I
pulled up the drive, I could see everyone was still out on the deck. I shut the
bike off, and was pulling the bag out of my pocket, when I looked up just in
time to see that one second Princess was standing there, facing everyone, and the
next she collapsed. I dropped the bag and bolted up the drive and the steps to
get to her. Bas was at her side. It looked like he’d caught her on her way
down, but she was thrashing and yelling while tears poured freely down her
face.

“What the
fuck is going on?” I shouted, dropping down beside them. Everyone else hovered
worriedly above.

“She’s
having a panic attack,” Bas explained. “I can’t get her to snap out of it.”

“She has
PTSD?” Ace asked.

“I think so,
I mean she used to have these attacks more often and really bad nightmares, but
she said it’s been a while,” Bas answered, reaching out to grab
Jax’s
hand, but she only yanked it back, screaming some
more.

“Her body
thinks it’s in danger, she’s not in reality right now,” Ace explained. “Touch
might anchor her, but not if she thinks she’s being attacked. Keep talking to
her, calmly, and see if you can get a response. She needs to open her eyes and
see that she’s okay.”

 “Come
on Princess, you’re okay. You’re here with me,” I said soothingly. She stilled
briefly, but when I tried to rub my hand up her arm, she started crying again.

“Okay, don’t
touch her. She obviously thinks someone is hurting her,” Ace stated, and since
I knew he had dealt with situations like this before, I trusted him to know
what to do. “Bas, I know you don’t want to betray her, but you’ve got to tell
me how she was attacked. I need to know to help her.”

“Uh, she was
– he pinned her down on the ground. She said she has nightmares about
laying
there, looking up at him.”

“Okay, keep
talking to her, but
Ky
get behind her and see if you
can lift her into your lap. If we can sit her up, she might snap out of it.”

Bas
continued to talk to her, to tell her that she was okay, and I did what Ace
said and got behind her. She freaked again when I touched her. “Please don’t do
this. Please no, Connor, please no.” Her plea gutted me, but I pulled her up so
that she was leaning back against my chest. I tucked her head under my chin and
held her to me.

“Connor’s
not here, he doesn’t have you. Just breathe, Princess, breathe.” She stilled
again in my arms, and her breathing seemed to slow down.

“Come on
Jazz, open your eyes and look at me. Open your eyes damn it,” Bas pleaded with
her. I couldn’t see her face, but I saw relief flash over Bas’. “That’s it,
Jazz, I‘m here. You’re safe. Nobody is going to hurt you.” I felt her relax
into my arms as her awareness returned.