Forget Me Not (37 page)

“Forcing him? They used something to force him to do what they wanted.” I meet Beau’s gaze.

His face floods with sympathy. “I suspect it’s a combination of the serum with another drug I am not familiar with. Jax has an extremely strong will. Lilly tells me he fought hard to overcome it.”

I nod, remembering the trembling, the bulging vein on his neck, the words which didn’t match his actions. Even through all that I knew he wouldn’t put me in danger.

“It took him two years to be comfortable enough here to treat the place like home. Now, though, I suspect he is more one of us than one of them,” Beau says.

“The thought of betraying you probably scared him.” I sit back on my haunches while I watch Dad dig in the dirt. “You’re going to let him stay, then?”

“This is his home. We are his family.”

Beau walks away, leaving me alone with my dad and my thoughts.

* * * *

I push the door open and walk into my room, exhausted. A pile of magazines and an ancient radio sit on my bed, a thick pink ribbon holding the pile together. A slip of paper is tucked under the bow. I pull it out. In beautiful, loopy writing I see the words:
Thought you might need a distraction. Lilly Xx.

I set the radio on the window seat and spin the dial until the fuzzy noise turns into music, a pop song blaring through the speakers. Grabbing a teen fashion magazine on the top of the pile, I throw myself onto the bed tummy first. After only flicking through a few pages, a knock sounds on the door. It swings open, and Jax strolls into the room like he owns it. He pushes the radio to the side and slouches in the window seat. “How’s your leg?”

“Better. The cream Lilly used, whatever it was, didn’t hold up. The wound is healing so much better since she stitched it.” My fingers rub over the lump made by the bandage under my new jeans.

“You up for a walk?” His words pour out too quick.

Blinking, I struggle to make out what he said. “Sure, I think.”

The days are so much cooler now than when I first arrived, so I grab my coat from the back of the armchair. We descend the stairs and go out the front door in silence. I breathe in the pure, clean air of the country while we walk across the yard and into the long grass. Unanswered questions about his past consume my thoughts, but I don’t voice them. He wants to spend time with me. Now’s not the time to attack his walls. I sneak a glance at him from the corner of my eye. The sun glints off his unkempt hair. The reddish brown waves sitting in a perfect mess steal my breath. I want to know him. I want him to want to tell me all about himself, to share past and present and future. Maybe it’s best to start somewhere safe, somewhere away from him.

“What are the Keys of Power?” I ask. “And the Tarla-thingy, what’s that?”

He lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know much about either. We learned Collective history at school; the Keys of Power were gifted to the ancients. According to history, the keys aren’t ordinary pieces of tech. They each have a unique power in addition to their standard power that can be accessed in a special way. The keys are made up of several ancient artifacts lost long ago. If one person is in possession of all three pieces…
.” A shaky sigh rattles his lips. “It wouldn’t be good.”

“What happened when I jumped in front of you? Why did the tarl
—the tarle.” I can’t get my tongue around the strange word. “Why did the cover-up’s other power activate?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps we can test it to try and find out. Marcus would love to be in on that.”

We come to the thick woods leading to The Ring. The warmth of fuzzy, good feelings consumes me, making my heart flutter. He remembered I wanted to come back here with my camera. I’ll have to take a trip home and collect it. I don’t understand how he can be that man’s son. Manvyke. It’s only a small jump from great power to cartoon super villain. “Enough power for an individual to gain dominion over the world?”

“Perhaps. I don’t really know.”

We enter The Ring. I stand in the center and gaze up at the trees above, awestruck by their beauty. The long, dark trunks curve upwards, their tips entwining to create the domed canopy which gives the place its name. The Ring is man-made, but the trees are tall, and their trunks are old and thick. It would have taken years to grow them that way. How long has this war been going? Did the resistance grow the trees to create the ring, or is it older than them?

The desire to twine my fingers through his, just like the trees twisting together, loosens my reservations and my tongue.

“Your family….”

He sits on the huge, hollow fallen log in the center of The Ring and leans back on his arms. “I don’t really want to talk about it, Mae.”

Yep. Wall’s still there. It probably always will be. He’ll never let me in. Silence hangs between us. Birds chirp and sun splashes down through the canopy. Sighing, I slide onto the log beside him so close our knees touch. It’s a shame it’s not so easy to close the gap between our hearts.

“Umm, Joshua.” I feel a small smile creep onto my lips.

“No. I’m not Joshua. My mom always called me Jax.” There’s a waver in his voice. It’s not right. He’s never uncertain of himself. “Don’t call me that, please. Manvyke is the only person who has ever called me by that name. Jax is short for Joshua Maxim. I’d prefer you use that.” He tosses a stone at a nearby boulder.

Wow. Shocked, my teeth worry my bottom lip. He refuses to call him Father or Dad, or even by his first name. Jax’s real name pulses through my mind on repeat, and I want to feel it on my tongue. “Joshua Maxim Manvyke…
,” I say with a small smile. “Sounds like a Marvel villain.”

“Evil does run in the family.” The hint of a joke touches his eyes, and he smirks.

My shoulders relax, and warmth flows through me. This is the Jax I’ve come to know, and the Jax I want to know better. “Belfry was Mom’s name before she married.”

“What was she like?” I meet his gaze.

He looks away, staring at a small, grey bird in the tree, preening its feathers in the sun. His Adam’s apple rises as he swallows, making him look a little nervous. He shuffles the stones around in his hands like a set of zen balls. His eyes glazed over with another time. “She was beautiful and kind, and she loved me enough to protect me from him.” He stands and paces around the outside of The Ring, tossing stones at random tree trunks.

The moment breaks, the emotional wall back up. The familiar feeling of being squeezed on the inside, of losing a mother, makes me ache to throw my arms around him and try to take his hurt away.

He walks fast, kicking at small rocks and sticks. “Years ago, the resistance were more active than they are now. They fought The Council openly, they tried to expose tech, and they tried to make this country the republic the general population think it is. They were a real threat to The Collective. So Manvyke decided he needed a secret agent, someone he could plant behind enemy walls to inform him of their plans. He wanted to destroy them with his spy.” He pauses, but I don’t speak. I don’t want to break his moment too. Surely, this story has to tie back to him.

“Who better to do it than his own son? They’d take in a child without question and treat him as their own, he said. Of course, he couldn’t send Nik. As the eldest son, he’s destined to become a patriarch. He was always Manvyke’s favorite anyway, the golden child. So, even if it wasn’t for duty…
Abby was too young. But me—the son he never really wanted—I doubt there was even a choice.” He paces.

“Jax, I’m so sor
—”

“Night after night they argued. He was so angry, always yelling and screaming at her. Mom spoke softly, so I only ever heard him, but I could guess what she said. I was too young, not even ten. He shouted the most horrible things, accused her of loving me more than she should. ‘Sacrifices have to be made for the good of the majority,’ he screamed at her one night. I guess I was just another sacrifice he was willing to make.”

He spins around, his face flushed, hurt and anger smudging his voice.

The urge overwhelms me, dragging me to my feet. I need to hold him. I need to help him. I need to love him. Jumping from the log and talking long strides, I throw my arms around his neck and pull myself to him.

“I’m so sorry.”

The smells of soap, mint, and boy makes my legs weak. Jax buries his face in my shoulder, slipping his arms around my waist, and continues talking. “We ran. My mother, Abby, and me. Ran for weeks. We never stayed in the same place for more than two nights.”

When he pulls back, his eyes are dull. They hold mine, and neither of us speak. The moment passes. I sense he can’t go any further; his story holds too much pain.

I squeeze him tight. “He treated you terribly.”

“We’re both orphans now, in a way,” he says.

Orphans? I have my dad, and my mom isn’t dead. My arms drop, releasing him from my hold. I turn to move away. I’m not an orphan. Dad will be okay and, eventually, one day, Mom will be found.

“What he’s doing now is as wrong as how he treated me,” he says.

His hand closes around my arm. His other arm circles my waist, and he pulls me into his side, sending waves of heat and cool, pleasant ripples through my body to land as flutters in my belly. Turning to face him, I throw my arms around his middle, pulling us closer together. He’s right. We have both lost our parents
—in different ways. He tightens his arms around my waist and rests his forehead on mine. We stand there hugging for a long time.

“Thank you,” I say, “for everything you’ve done to help me.”

“I had my reasons.” His mouth quirks.

“Seriously, Jax, thanks.”

“So, you’re going to be hanging around for a while?”

I nod, moving my head to rest on his shoulder, hyperaware of every place our bodies touch.

“That could be fun.”

His grip loosens, and he pulls back, looking into my eyes. All my loss and hurt and reservations evaporate, replaced by a better feeling. I can tell he feels it too, because his eyes are now burning.

The fluttering of a thousand butterflies erupts low in my belly.

He looks down into my eyes, probing.

Kiss me.

His breath brushes my cheek, making my legs quiver. I feel like I’m drowning in his eyes, being pulled into his soul. His lips brush against mine, light as a feather’s kiss. He pulls back, his eyes hooded. His lips are full, pink, perfect, and sculptured. I lean in, pressing my lips against his. They’re warm and firm and pleasant. For a moment I’m frozen, unable to move. His hand moves to the small of my back and pulls me tighter to him, pressing our bodies together, melding us into one.

Heat floods me. I’ve wanted this so much. Wanted to be there for him, wanted him to want me, wanted to get closer. I slide my arms around his waist. Every curve and lump of his chest and arms and legs burn against me. A warm shiver runs right through me as he kisses me back.

His lips move together with mine, and his tongue slips into my mouth. I gasp against his kiss. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and my heart pounds to the sound of unheard music. I run my hand up the back of his neck, hold him to me, and kiss him back eagerly.

This moment is all that exists.

Jax and I are all that exist.

# # #

Chapter One

~ Mae ~

“Gotcha!”

The wooden stick thwacks into my calf, knocking my leg out from under me. The muted ache makes me stumble, my free arm whipping round like a propeller. It doesn’t help. My foot slides off the rope anyway. Will grabs my shoulder, hauling me back onto the narrow slatted bridge and barely stopping me falling from the trapeze training area high in the tree canopy of The Ring.

We’ve been training like crazy since saving Dad from The Collective. I won’t be an easy target again. I’m resistance now and I’ll fight.

Laughter booms from below, drawing my gaze down to Jax and Lilly where they sit at opposite sides of the cleared forest floor. Jax leans back on his elbows, peering up into the canopy, his gaze meeting mine with the half grin that makes my insides melt. Pulling my gaze away, I don’t let him distract me for long. Instead, I swivel around and bring my padded stick up, crunching it into Will’s side. He lets out a grunt but barely sways on the rope. Jax says something I don’t quite catch, and stifled giggling floats up like a tolling bell. Clearly Lilly’s trying not to laugh, but Jax’s humor is too much for even her steely grudge.

Focus, this is it.

I’m not the helpless, defenseless girl they think I am. I can best them all up here, just need to concentrate on outwitting them. A quick glance around gathers my thoughts; ropes over there, down there, up there too. Yes, that’s the way. I spring off my feet, grab the support above me, pull myself up, and scurry along it while Will’s still looking around trying to see where I’ve gone. He’s too strong, so there’s no way I can win if he gets the upper hand. Play
like a squirrel, quick and smart
. My hand moves toward the pendant at my neck, but I pull it away before I touch it. As temped as I am, I’ll play fair. Hanging upside down with my legs wrapped around the rope, the stick tucked between them and up over my shoulder, I pull myself along into the thick canopy. I try to block out Lilly’s giggling which Ace, her dog, has now joined with yelps at the air.