Matters of the Hart (The Hart Series Book 3)

by M. E. Carter

  “Jason, tell him.” I stop dead in my tracks as I hear my mom’s voice calling from their bedroom door. “Tell him the truth. Stop trying to protect him from your own insecurities and level with him.” Her breath hitches, and I know she’s trying not to cry, but I refuse to turn around. “I’m tired of the two most important men in my life struggling to get along because they keep skirting around their issues.”

  I hear their door close, and I assume she went back to bed. My dad clears his throat before speaking. “It’s not disappointment. It’s never been disappointment. It’s always been fear.”

  His words make me lose my breath. “Fear of what?”

  He sucks in a couple breaths, like he wants to answer, but it takes him a few tries before he finally gets his words in order. “Before Matty was born, I was afraid of how that would change our relationship. I knew I loved you all the way into my bones, but with him being my biological child, I didn’t know if it would feel different, ya know?”

  Whether he wants them to or not, his words make my gut clench. I’m afraid of what he’s going to say. No kid, even if he’s an adult, wants to hear that his father loves his siblings more. Even in these circumstances. As much as I stand to lose, as much pain as I may face, I can’t walk away. I have to listen.

  “But then he was born. And not only did I have so much love for him, but the love I had for you grew. I didn’t know I could feel that strongly about anyone. I didn’t know those feelings could intensify. But they did. And it happened again when Lucy was born.

  He takes a sip of his drink, and I hear the empty glass hit the table as he puts it down. “Then Matty started getting really good at football and you…”

  “Didn’t?” I offer, finally turning around.

  He gives me a pointed look. “Found other interests. My entire life has revolved around football. I didn’t know how to talk about math and science, but I didn’t want our relationship, our closeness, to change.

  “As Matty gets older, I see so much of myself in him. The same drive, the same determination. It’s actually weird how much alike we are.”

  “And I’m like Austin, the man you hate.”

  I expect him to agree with me. To say he has a hard time not seeing the man he hates whenever he looks at me. But he doesn’t. Instead, he shrugs.

  “I don’t know. I never met Austin.”

  “But you don’t dispute that you hate him.”

  He sighs. “Hate is a strong word. From everything I know, he was a wonderful father to you, and I will always be grateful for that. But I have a serious lack of respect for the way he treated your mother. When she hurts, I hurt. So yes, if I think too much about it, it still makes me angry.”

  “And with Kade showing up, now you have to think about it more.”

  “I admit, it’s been harder to put out of my mind recently. Mostly because I had to see the look on your mom’s face when that old wound opened up.”

  I cringe and squeeze the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “I didn’t want to tell her, Dad. I don’t know that I could have seen her crushed like that. I still remember how much she cried before you came along, and I was only six.”

  “It wasn’t your job to tell her, Jax. She and I are a team. It’s my job to support her through bad times like it’s her job to support me during bad times. But you’re missing my point.”

  Sitting down next to him, I prop up my feet on the table in front of us and stare blankly at the TV, mirroring his pose.

  “Yes, I’m excited about seeing Matty’s future. I’m excited for all the possibilities. And I’ll admit, I’m a bit of a stage dad.”

  The comment makes me chuckle. “I’ll say. Did you really tell the coach Hart men are destined for football greatness?”

  He groans and rubs his face. “Yeah, that wasn’t exactly my finest moment.” Turning to me, he gently punches my leg with his fist. “Jax, it’s not that I don’t want to talk about Matty with you or that I’m trying to exclude you. Hell, you’re the one person I want to talk to about it! You get it. You have such a love for the game that I want to share it with you like we used to. But I’m fucking terrified that somehow I’ll screw up my relationship with you by staying too focused on football. Or that I’ll make you feel that I don’t love you as much as I love him. When I see you, it’s a reminder not to let my excitement take over.”

  That’s it? That’s what this whole issue has been? “You’re trying to tell me you have been having your own version of adoption issues?”

  He shrugs and turns back to the TV. “That’s what my therapist calls it,” he says quietly, and my head whips over to look at him.

  “You’re…in therapy?” All my life, my dad has been the strongest man I know. The one who holds everyone together. To hear that he’s been getting professional help himself, it feels like I’ve been doused by cold water. Of course, it also makes more sense as to why he was adamant about me getting therapy after Annika’s attack. He knew it would help, because it helped him.

  He rubs his finger on his lip before answering me. “I know things have been off between us for a few years, and I don’t know how to fix it. You used to look at me like I hung the moon, and now you look at me like…” He shakes his head but doesn’t finish his sentence. “I didn’t know how to fix it so I started seeing someone in the area. Apparently, this rift isn’t that unusual in families like ours. I guess there are a lot of parents out there who have both biological and adopted kids, and sometimes the lines get blurred of how to feel and how to react to things. I’ve never, ever wanted you to feel less than, so I overcompensated and ended up doing the exact same thing I was trying to avoid. I have to live with that guilt. The fact that I caused my child an enormous amount of hurt by trying to keep him from being hurt is a tough pill to swallow.”

  “You do know how ridiculous that sounds, right?”

  “You know how ridiculous I feel? Although not that any of us should be surprised. I’m not always the sharpest knife in the drawer. Your mother has quite a few examples, even from way back when we first started dating.” We both chuckle, both of us seeming to feel the tension leave the room for the first time in a while. “I’m sorry, Jaxon. I never meant to make you feel less than. I’ve never been disappointed in you. Not once.”

  “Not even that time in high school when I drank half your vodka and filled the bottle back up with water?”

  “Okay maybe once. It took me forever to figure out why my vodka went into the freezer as a liquid and came out as a solid.”

  We laugh again and spend the next few minutes sitting in silence, both of us wrapping our brains around this conversation. It never occurred to me that my dad would be afraid of losing me. That he struggles with his own adoption issues like I seem to be struggling with mine. In some ways, it’s a weird kind of bonding moment.

  Clearing my throat, I decide it’s time to make my own confession. “I’ve been thinking about the foundation.”

  He stiffens just slightly, and I know it’s because he doesn’t trust where this is going. “What about it?”

  “Dr. Bates is getting up there in years, ya know?” I look over at him, and he’s watching me, with a ghost of a smile. “You’re probably gonna need to replace him at some point. Maybe even around the time I get through my oncology residency.”

  His lips quirk up. “I’m not sure I could get Dr. Bates off the board if I tried.”

  “Maybe. But it might be cool to have someone with the latest training working alongside him and all his experience. Maybe he could mentor someone to take the reins.”

  He puts his arm around me, clasps my shoulder and squeezes. “I’d like that.”

  Finally, finally we’re on the same page. It feels good to clear the air, although it still is kind of mind-boggling that a parent could struggle with their own version of adoption issues. That never even crossed my mind, and I’m not sure I totally understand it. But I guess until I adopt a child of my own, if I ever do, I’ll just have to take his
word for it.

  And I wonder briefly, if that means he’ll back off about me spending time with Kade and let his concerns go. I chuckle to myself. Not likely. But that’s a fight for a different day.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Annika

  I never thought I would be glad to use a community bathroom again, but I had to get out of my dad’s house. I love him. I love my brother. But for the first time ever, I was uncomfortable being in my childhood home.

  Maybe it was self-defense training I was practically forced to do, but most likely it was Jaxon not being there. In such a short amount of time, he’s become a huge part of my life, and I miss him when we’re not together. So when I hear his knock on the door, I have to stop myself from racing to answer.

  I don’t try very hard.

  Swinging the door open, I try to calm my breathing as I look at the face I’ve missed.

  “Is Lauren here?” He looks almost as desperate as I feel to be wrapped up in him.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”

  That’s all I say before he crashes into me, kissing me so passionately, I might just pass out. Kicking the door closed behind him, he pushes me up against the wall, plunging his tongue into my mouth while I tug on his hair.

  Running his hands down my back, he grabs my ass, making me gasp. He immediately stops, but when I kiss him again, he knows it’s the green light to continue. I can feel his biceps flexing as I run my fingertips down his arms, his chest, his stomach, and push my hands under his shirt where I feel his warm skin on my hands.

  Pushing his shirt up, I’m desperate to get closer to him. He doesn’t hesitate, instead ripping it over his head, pausing only long enough to smile at me before going in for more kisses.

  His abs seem to go on for days and oddly, the smattering of dark chest hair he has turns me on more than I expected.

  “Bed,” I mumble against his lips, and I feel us swivel as we clumsily make our way around the corner and fall onto my mattress. His warm hands slide under my shirt, and he pulls back, watching my reaction. I bite my lip and nod, and slowly, together we rid me of my sweater.

  His lips feel so good against my skin as he kisses down my neck, down my chest, over the swell of my breasts. When he pulls the cup of my bra down and takes my nipple in his mouth, I whimper, the sensation of his tongue flicking the peak overwhelming.

  My eyes roll back, and I hold him close as his hand explores my stomach, my back, my hips. And when his hand finally makes its way over my leg to the apex of my thigh, I freeze. He rubs over my jeans and my breathing picks up, only this time it’s not because of anticipation and pleasure.

  This time it’s fear.

  “Get off me,” I whisper quietly, trying not to freak out. This is Jaxon—JAXON. The man I love and trust more than anyone else in this world. But it’s like my body has disconnected from my brain, and I can’t feel anything but afraid. He doesn’t seem to recognize my freak out, enjoying peppering kisses on my bare skin, so I say it louder. “Get off, get off, GET OFF ME!” I yell and push him away with all my strength. He bolts upright, off the bed, hands raised in front of him as tears stream down my face.

  “I’m off. I’m off, baby.” He’s trying to sound calm, but I can hear his own fear. “I’m not going to touch you, okay? It’s okay. I’m off. You’re okay.”

  Embarrassment and anger course through me as I curl into a ball on the bed and sob into my pillow. I thought I was doing well. I thought I was moving on and had pushed through the hard parts. I was wrong. “When will it go away, Jaxon? When will I not be broken anymore?”

  He grabs my shirt off the floor and tugs it over my body, helping me get my arms in the sleeves before grabbing a blanket off Lauren’s bed and tucking it in around me. It’s like he knows I need to hide under the covers, hide from my fear, even if it’s stupid and only for a few seconds. Then he sits next to me on the floor, far enough away that he’s not touching me, but close enough that I can feel his warmth and comfort. Instinctively, I reach for him, never opening my eyes. Just the feel of his hand clasping mine makes me feel better.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally whisper when I run out of tears and get control over my emotions again.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs into my hair, kissing me on the head. “And you’re not broken.”

  I sniff and wipe my nose on my sleeve, which is super sexy and one more thing to be embarrassed about right now. “I don’t know what happened. It’s not like I remember anything, so why did that freak me out?”

  He runs his thumb over my palm gently. “It’s going to take some time. That’s the first time we’ve gone that far. One step at a time, ya know?”

  I smile half-heartedly. He’s…perfect. Rolling to my stomach, I cross my arms and rest my chin on them, sighing as I confess why this is probably on my mind again. “My dad made me practice self-defense moves with my brother.”

  “He did.”

  Nodding, I sigh again. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to put myself in a position where I might freak out, ya know? But he was adamant about making sure I can protect myself.”

  “No wonder it all came back to you right now.”

  Turning to look at him I ask, “What do you mean?”

  “He took away your choice. You could have told him no, but that would have opened up questions and a conversation you didn’t want to have, so you did it anyway. Sound familiar?”

  It does. It so does. Everything that happened at the hospital was with my consent, but not because I wanted it. And it was horrible.

  “I think you’re onto something,” I say, stroking his hand with my thumb. “It doesn’t help that I almost told my dad.”

  “You did?”

  Nodding, I sigh again. “I couldn’t get the words out. He showed me this article about how”—I swallow hard and push through—“rapes are up in this area.”

  “Wait.” Jaxon turns to look at me, concern written all over his face. “What do you mean they’re up in the area?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t read the article. I know I should be aware of that stuff, but I couldn’t.”

  “No, of course not, baby. I didn’t mean to insinuate that. I hadn’t heard that, is all. I need to let Paul know,” he mumbles as I flip over on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

  “He was worried about my safety—my dad. I didn’t want to crush him.”

  “I think,” Jaxon says as he clasps my hand again, “you don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to. My dad said something this week about loving his kids so much it’s hard to breathe sometimes, and I think that’s probably the way your dad feels about you. So unless there’s a reason for him to know, you don’t have to feel guilty about not sharing it with him. Like, if your life was physically altered in some way, you wouldn’t have a choice, ya know? But maybe part of the reason you don’t want to tell him is because you know he probably doesn’t want to know.”

  I smile at him, his words giving me the freedom to let go of the guilt of keeping my dad in the dark. “He really does want to think self-defense is enough. If he realized it was completely out of my control, it was just random, he would never get over it. But I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s depressing me. Let’s change topics. Did you and your dad finally have a real conversation?”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, we had it out finally.”

  Feeling stronger now and missing him next to me, I hold up the blankets, silently inviting him back under the covers, even as my heart still races. “Will you snuggle with me? A week is too long without lying next to you.”

  He grins. “You sure?”

  Nodding, I move closer to the wall to make room for him. He doesn’t waste any time, kicking his shoes off and climbing in next to me, pulling me close and situating my head on his shoulder. Once we’re comfortable, I get back to our conversation.

  “You were saying yo
u had it out with your dad. How did it go?”

  He doesn’t say anything, and I know he’s trying to put the conversation into words. After a few minutes of relaxing against each other, he finally says what’s on his mind. “I knew I was going to die. When I was nine years old, I knew it was coming.”

  The heaviness of his confession is not at all what I was expecting. “That must have been scary.”

  “It wasn’t actually,” he continues, rubbing my arm absentmindedly. “Between the cancer and the chemo and the mouth sores, I was in so much pain. I was kind of looking forward to it.”

  I stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. I can tell he has a lot on his mind.

  “I never told my parents,” he admits. “It would crush them to hear it. But it’s true. I remember being in that hospital bed. I remember resigning myself to the fact that I was going to die and was going to go live with my first dad in heaven.

  “Then all the sudden, I was well. And I was happy about it, but my mindset had already changed. It’s like I got this second chance at life, but all my childhood dreams were already gone.”

  Shifting my position to see him better, I say, “Everyone’s childhood dreams disappear eventually. Yours may have changed sooner than most.”

  “That’s exactly what happened. Everyone else always seems surprised football isn’t in my genes, but come on. I’m five-eleven. I don’t know if it’s genetics or if chemo stunted my growth, but either way, I’m nowhere close to being big enough for the pros. I don’t care because I never wanted that career. But when I didn’t die, I kept doing things I loved. Not just football and video games, but even at school. And I liked doing math and science. I never really knew where that came from, but now I think it’s the Bryant part of me that gives me those strengths. Like that whole nature versus nurture thing. Jason raised me to have a certain moral code and way of seeing life. But Austin gave me the proclivities to certain interests.”

  “You think your dad understands that now?”

  My head moves up and down when he shrugs. “I think so. I think he’s having his own adoption issues right now, which is super weird.” I giggle at the confusion he clearly feels. “But I guess he’s so much larger than life, he has a hard time relating to someone normal like me.”