I count to thirty. I’m positive that Jax is just going to change the subject or go to bed. This is untouched territory for us. We’ve never really spoken about all those nights long ago. It’s kind of like an unspoken promise to not mention it, even back when I was patching him up. I’m about to open my mouth to relieve the tension in the room when Jax finally speaks.

“Okay.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Okay.

I will myself to stay perfectly still. He’s never once ever talked about what happened in his house. I don’t want to move or talk. Heck, I don’t even want to breathe in fear that Jax will snap out of it and shut down on me. That I’m used to. Jax is always shutting people out, especially me. Please, please open up.

Jax has stopped drawing patterns on my back, and instead squeezes me so tightly that I’m positive that I’ll have bruises by my ribs. I don’t care. If a few bruises is all it takes for Jax to open up to me, I’ll gladly show them off. Jaxon Chandler is about to confide in me.

I’ve counted to one hundred . . . twice. Still nothing. It’s time for me to push him like he has pushed me to do things I reluctant to do.

“Have you ever talked to Wyatt about it? Has he ever said sorry or anything?”

Even though I asked, I already know the answer. There’s no chance in hell that Wyatt has ever apologized. He isn’t sorry. I doubt that pathetic excuse of a man is sorry for anything.

“You already know the answer.”

“Enlighten me anyways.”

Jax doesn’t say anything at first. He squeezes me a little tighter to him, if that’s even possible. I suck in a breath to keep from wincing. It’s just a little pain. I remind myself that the pain is worth it.

Almost like he can read my mind, Jax releases his death grip. He still clings to me, but now I’m able to breathe normally without my ribs feeling like they’re going to burst into my lungs.

“Wyatt isn’t the kind of person to apologize.” Jax rakes his hand through his hair, a gesture I know all too well. “Besides, what would I ask him? Oh hey, Dad, remember when you used to beat the shit out of me? Do you ever regret it? Did you ever feel bad? Did you ever want to kill me, or did you just settle for beating the shit out of me until I begged for death so the pain would stop?”

Tears sting my eyes from hearing the truth in his words. I knew it was awful, I saw it. Heck, I even had to Google how to sew because he refused to go to the doctors for stitches. I just never imagined it was that bad. Which, of course, is stupid. I guess I didn’t want to believe it was that bad. I can’t comprehend how someone could torture their own kid. The only thing I’m sure of is that Wyatt Chandler shouldn’t be able to breathe. He shouldn’t be allowed to practice medicine, when he’s the reason why Jax would sneak into my bedroom at night. Wyatt is the perfect actor, pretending to have been the best role model for his soon. When you’re a renowned cardiovascular surgeon, nobody questions you.

“I hate him!” I finally manage to spit out.

“I wish I could say that . . . There was so many times that I’ve said that, I even believed it, but I realize that I can never hate him.”

“Even after everything he’s done to you?” My voice cracks.

“Even after everything, I can’t hate him.” He pauses to collect himself. “On some level, I understand why he did it.”

“What?” I roar, wishing that the light was on so I can see his face. The tears that I’ve been fighting to hold in silently roll down my face.

Jax not hating his father is one thing. I was okay with that. People have their own feelings. I mean, I hate the man enough for both of us so it’s fine. But to understand why Wyatt used Jax for his personal punching bag is not something I’m okay with . . . I’m not equipped to handle this.

Yeah, cause somebody deserves to get a glass vase thrown at him because there was water on the bathroom floor after his shower. Several pieces were embedded into his back since he was only wearing a towel when Wyatt came storming into his room that morning. Jax went the whole day with pieces of glass in his back because he couldn’t reach them himself.

One of the millions of memories that haunt me about Jax’s past comes rushing forward.

“Have you seen Jax?” Logan immediately asks me before I can shut the front door.

I drop my swim bag onto the floor, dread sinking in. Instantly I paste a fake smile on my face to hide my fear. “No. Wasn’t he at practice with you and Connor?”

“No, he didn’t show up for practice. Chris said that he left early, sometime during fifth period. Just got up and walked out of class.”

My earlier dread is nothing compared to what I’m feeling now. I saw him this morning when he came over to take us to school, but that was it. He didn’t even look up at me when I said good morning. I knew something was wrong then. I just didn’t know how to ask him if he was okay with everyone in the kitchen. So instead of talking to him, I watched while he ate my last yogurt. He barely joked about it too. I should have cornered him then and sought out answers.

My heart pounds loudly, my hands tremble, I need to tell my parents about Jax’s secret. If I do, I know Jax will find some way to deny everything. He won’t risk being taken away from his dad, from me. I’ve tried over and over again to make him see reason. I know our parents will take him in, but he won’t let me confide in them. Every day I live with the fear of his Dad going too far.

Cursing myself for not pushing the subject this morning, I fidget with the straps of my practice suit. I can’t stay still. I’m itching to fumble into my bag for my phone and text Jax, but I don’t want to in front of my brother.

“How did you get home?” I ask instead, pretending that I’m not scared shitless.

Jax didn’t sneak into my room last night. Every night I make sure the house alarm is off and that my window is unlocked, just in case he needs to sleep over here. When he’s here, I can take care of him and know that he’s okay. When he’s not, I always think the worst. I always imagine him bloody, broken on the floor, unable to move. I usually don’t get any sleep, and if I do, I have nightmares.

“Connor.” Logan focuses on his phone again.

“Hmm, well I haven’t seen him since this morning when he stole my last yogurt.” I try to act like I’m not worried so that I can get to my room as quickly as possible. “I didn’t see him at school at all, but I hardly do unless I eat lunch with you guys. I just thought you guys went off campus for lunch. Have you called him?”

“Huh?”

“See that shiny thing in your hand? It’s called a phone. Use it. Call Jax,” I snap at him.

Logan doesn’t know things about his best friend that I do, but still, he should realize something is wrong if Jax wasn’t at practice. Jax never misses practice.

“I did. No worries though, Addie, he’ll text me when he’s feeling better.”

“Feeling better?” I squeak out.

Logan rubs my wet hair. “Don’t worry, you won’t get sick before your meet this weekend.”

Forcing myself to laugh, I just nod. Jax getting me sick was the last thing on my mind.

“Okay, well, tell him I hope he feels better.” I move towards the stairs. “I’m gonna jump in the shower. I didn’t have time after practice since Mom had to go pick up Hads from ballet.”

He nods. “Connor is gonna bring over something to eat since the parentals have that charity thing. Want to watch a movie with us?” he asks while he texts away on his phone.