Drive (One Night Series Book 1)

by Megyn Ward

  “Yes, he got his shot.” My mom sighs. “Tell me what happened with Claire.”

  I don’t want to talk about it. I know she’s going to push the subject, but I try to hold her off as long as I can. “You should probably get home—”

  “Jaxon.”

  I sigh, giving up. “I told her,” I say, leaning against the doorframe. “I told her everything.” As much as it sucks, knowing my suspicions about her potential reaction was well-founded, I’m glad that it’s finally over. I’m glad she knows. Maybe now that Claire understands that my leaving had nothing to do with how I felt about her, that there was nothing she did to make it happen, she can move on with her life. I really hope that she can.

  Because I can’t.

  Because now I know she’s it for me. There is no moving on. There is no one else.

  I’m twenty-five years old, and I’m going to love Claire St. James until the day I die.

  “Jax...” My mom sets her book aside and stands, moving toward me so she can wrap me up in her arms like she used to when I was a kid. “I’m sorry.”

  I hug her back, letting her apologize because it makes her feel better. Setting her away from me, I smile and change the subject. “Did he ask you to stay?”

  My mom moved out a few months ago, into an apartment a few blocks away. It was my idea. I felt like she needed to have her own place. Start her own life while Simon and I get used to being father and son instead of brothers.

  He’s known the truth for a while now, why my mom felt like the lie was necessary to give us both a chance at what she calls a normal life. He took it surprisingly well. It’s the separation from my mother that he’s having a hard time with. Why he’s so angry at me. He still calls her mom. He still calls me by my first name. I’m not sure we’re ever going to get to a place where I’m Dad.

  My life is thoroughly fucked up. Claire was right to push me away, and I was right to let her. She deserves more than anything I have to offer. I know that. I know that but knowing it didn’t stop me from wanting or wishing. Didn’t stop me from hoping that maybe I’d get to wake up beside her for once instead of walking away.

  “He didn’t.” She smiles at me, seeing it as progress. “Do you need me to? I can stay if you want to—”

  She wants me to go after Claire. I did that once. Let her go, only to chase after her. I was a selfish kid then, too intent on what I wanted to recognize or even care about what was best for her.

  Best for us both.

  “No.” I shake my head, crossing the living room to lift a sleeping Simon into my arms. He’s a big kid. Almost as big as I was when I was his age. Even so, feeling the weight of him in my arms, I can clearly remember what it felt like the very first time that I held him. The way his breath puffed against my neck. The way his fingers curled into the collar of my shirt.

  “It’s not too late.” She tries again because all my mother has ever wanted is for me to be happy. “Maybe—”

  “Yes, it is. It’s been too late for a long time now.” I shake my head. “I need to let her go. Let it be over. Move on.”

  Even as I say it I know it’s a lie.

  There’s not going to be any moving on. Not for me. Because Claire St. James is the one.

  The only one.

  And I lost her.

  Thirty

  Claire

  I watch him walk away, and all I can think is, at least this time I’m awake. At least this time I see it coming. At least this time, I know Jaxon is leaving me behind.

  Running my fingertips across my cheeks, I take a deep breath. Let it out slowly before squaring my shoulders and turning toward my sister and her tight cluster of simpering bridesmaids.

  “What are you doing?” Bri says, her finger pointed down the crowded sidewalk. “You’re just going to let him get away?”

  “Bri—” I’m tired. I’m done. I want to go home.

  “Seriously?” She drops her hand, eyes wide. “Go after him. I didn’t cancel the limo reservation that we’ve had for months and steal Dad’s credit card to book Jaxon Bennett at the last minute so I could watch you get your heart broken, all over again.”

  “You—” I stare at her, not sure I heard her correctly. “You did what? Why? Why would you do that?” Behind her, her friends watch the drama unfold. Tonight’s been straight out of a Tele Novella—so insane, it borders on the ridiculous.

  Bri reaches for me. Grabbing me by the arm, she shoves me in the direction Jaxon went. “I’ll explain later. Right now you need to—”

  “No.” I plant my feet and shake my head. I’m tired of letting my sister push me around. “You’ll explain now.”

  She rolls her eyes, like what I’m asking for is a waste of time. “A friend of Kyle’s booked Jaxon as a driver last weekend and wouldn’t stop raving about how great he was—how he could get his clients into VIP and the best tables at any restaurant in Chicago, so I asked for his name to see if I could snag a last minute booking. Sure enough, when I checked the website, there he was.”

  “I don’t understand...” I feel dumb. Like I’m having a hard time putting it all together. “Why?”

  “Why?” She looks at me like I’m stupid. “Because I want you to be happy and he’s the only—”she stops talking, her shoulders slumping forward for a just a second before standing up straight. “Nope.” She shakes her head again. “This isn’t happening again.” She looks over my shoulder at the driver Jaxon called to replace him. “Do you know where Jaxon lives?” He must’ve nodded his head because Bri smiles. “Good. Take her there,” she says, giving me a hard nudge in his direction.

  “Uhhh, no.”

  I turn around to find a guy, blond hair, dark eyes, wearing a suit very similar to Jaxon’s, standing behind me. He shakes his head, splitting a look between me and Bri. “I’m not taking a woman I don’t know to my friend’s house. That’s not happening.”

  Before I can say a word, Bri advances on him, reaching out to drill a manicured finger into his chest. “You’re going to take her,” she says, head tipped up to glare at him with narrowed eyes. “Because tomorrow morning, when you take Jaxon his car, you’re going to hand him the keys and say, that crazy bitch wanted me to drive her sister to your house—can’t you believe that shit? And then he’s going to know that she tried to come after him and that you wouldn’t help her—and then he’s going to be pissed. At you.” She punctuated the last two words with a couple of finger jabs before dropping her hand. “Jaxon Bennett doesn’t strike me as someone you want to piss off.”

  The guy alternates a look between me and Bri, seemingly weighing her words against what he knows about his friend. Finally, he looks at me and sighs.

  “Get in.”

  Twenty minutes later, I’m standing on the front porch of a small, two-story row house in a quiet neighborhood, a lot like the one they used to live in years ago. The tiny front yard is well tended with what looks like a newly planted tree standing sentry over a cobblestone walk, all of it surrounded by a white picket fence.

  I raise my fist to knock but stall out before I can make a sound, letting my hand drop to my side. Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. He left me, twice. At what point am I finally going to let him go?

  As soon as the thought takes root, I cut it down. My mother left me behind. My sister left me behind. Jaxon. I’m tired of watching people walk away. I deserve more than that.

  I know why he left me—then and now. Yes, he left Gailena and joined the military, to make sure Simon would get the medical care that he needs, but he left me because he didn’t think I’d want him if I knew the truth.

  I came to tell him he’s wrong. He’s wrong now, and he was wrong five-years ago. Mind made up, I raise my fist again, coming to within a breath of knocking when the door is pulled open, and I’m face-to-face with Jaxon’s mother.

  “Oh.” she jerks back, wide eyes aimed at me for just a second before she goes completely pale. “Claire?” Mrs. Bennett breathes my name softly, and it sounds like a
prayer. “Ohmygod,” she says in a rush before pulling me into her arms. “You’re here.” Her arms tighten around me for a moment, hands pressed against my back before she pulls away to look at me. “I thought I was going to have to go looking for you...” She pushes me back onto the porch before closing the door behind her. “He said he told you about—” She stops talking. “I know he hurt you, Claire but he was so... worried that you wouldn’t understand that he convinced himself that you’d reject him. Reject Simon.”

  “I know.” I nod, my hands coming up to grip her arms. “I understand.”

  And I do understand. But understanding why doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  She looks at me, her eyes roving over my face before she aims her gaze directly at mine. “Simon still talks about you, he misses you. We all do.” She smiles at me. Loosening her grip on me before stepping to the side, she pushes the door open. Even from here I can hear the faint whir of a blender. “He’s in the kitchen.” She gives me a quick kiss on my cheek before she hurries down the walk.

  Thirty-one

  Jaxon

  I take Simon upstairs and put him to bed, kicking my way through a minefield of Legos and dirty clothes. He is so cleaning his room tomorrow.

  I press my lips to his forehead. “Night, buddy.” He’ll be eleven in three months and if awake wouldn’t let me tuck him in if his life depended on it.

  I try to tell myself it’s the age and not the fact that things got complicated between us. When I enlisted, I was his big brother. When I came home, I was his father. Trust me, I know how fucked up it sounds. We’re in counseling, and we’re working on it.

  I’m trying.

  That’s all I can do.

  “Jax?”

  Jax.

  He hasn’t called me that in a long time. Lately, it’s been Jaxon or nothing at all. It’s not dad—I don’t know if we’ll ever get to a place where he’ll feel comfortable calling me dad—but it’s a start.

  “Yeah?”

  “I heard you and Mom talking earlier. About Claire.”

  Shit.

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat. Sit back down. “She ended up being the client I drove for tonight.”

  “Oh.” That’s all he says but there’s more. I can hear it in his tone, he just doesn’t want to ask. Finally, he gives it up. “Did she ask about me?”

  “She did.” I tell him the truth, or at least a version of it that doesn’t make me feel like a total asshole. “She said she misses you.”

  “Maybe we can go see her.” It’s not a question. Not really.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  There’s a 50/50 chance she’s getting married.

  I fucked up.

  I left her again.

  “Fine.” He gives me a long, measured look. “I’ll talk to Mom. She’ll take me.” He turns onto his side and faces the wall.

  “Simon—”

  “Night.”

  Shit.

  “Goodnight.”

  I head to my room, pulling my tie all the way loose as I go. Tossing it and my jacket onto a nearby chair, I strip the rest of the suit off, before pulling on a pair of track pants.

  In the kitchen, I mix a quick protein shake—what passes for food when I’m too wiped to cook—adding a couple of frozen bananas and a generous dollop of peanut butter before running it through the blender.

  Taking the lid off, I stand at the kitchen sink and drink my dinner. Staring through the window, across the yard, at the small detached garage behind the house, I try to move on.

  I’ve got a couple of loads to wash—Simon’s clothes and mine. A load of towels to fold. I’ll finish the laundry and wear myself out between loads by working out so hard I won’t be able to move tomorrow.

  What I won’t do is think about Claire.

  What happened tonight.

  How I had my shot and fucked it up, same as before.

  Maybe I can still—

  I catch a shadow of movement behind me in the reflection of the window, and I turn, expecting to see Simon in the doorway or maybe my mom. But it’s not Simon, and it’s not my mom.

  It’s Claire.

  She’s here.

  Standing right in front of me.

  I stand here, staring at her, trying to convince myself that this isn’t really happening. That I just want her so bad the wanting has finally driven me crazy. I close my eyes and wait for her to go away.

  “You really need to stop doing that.”

  That’s when I know it’s not a dream. That I haven’t finally lost my mind. I know because, in my dreams, the first words out of her mouth are always the same.

  I love you.

  I open my eyes.

  She’s still here. I don’t know how she found me, but she’s here, standing in front of me in that barely there dress and spiked heels that make her legs look like they go on forever. Her hair is loose, falling around her shoulders in gentle waves that make my hands ache, her eyes, more blue than green, staring at me with a mixture of frustration and apprehension.

  “Doing what?” I set the pitcher down, leaning against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Take your pick,” she says, closing the distance between us until she’s standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, her gaze locked on mine. I remember the first time we stood this close, how nervous she was. How much I wanted to kiss her. She doesn’t look nervous now. She looks like she wants to hit me. “Not giving me a say in what happens between us. Disappearing into thin air.” She moves, tossing her purse on the table before turning toward me again. “Leaving me behind.”

  “You don’t want me, Claire.” I shake my head, tightening the lock I have on my arms, pushing them against my chest to keep myself from reaching for her. “I’m not—”

  “We need to be clear about something,” she says through her teeth, jabbing me in the chest with her finger. Even with the heels, she has to tip her head back to look me in the eye. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, I am… but it wasn’t your fault and it doesn’t make a difference to me. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you and it doesn’t change the way I feel about Simon. What I’m angry about is the fact that you left. You left and didn’t trust me enough to even try to tell me why.”

  “I was trying to protect you.” It’s a ridiculous thing to say, given the circumstances, and she confirms it when she laughs in my face. “Claire—”

  “Stop,” she snaps up at me. “Stop assuming you know how I feel or what I think because you don’t. You didn’t know then, and you don’t know now.”

  “Okay...” I close my eyes and sigh. “So tell me.” My eyes open and I find her where I left her. Close. Too close to allow me to think straight. “What do you want?”

  “The same thing I’ve always wanted,” she says softly, her eye gone gray with tears. “You.”

  Thirty-two

  Claire

  I don’t regret saying it. I probably should, but I don’t. He needs to know what he walked away from. What could’ve been. How things might’ve happened if only he’d given me a chance.

  “And Simon?” I watch his jaw tighten. “What about him?”

  “I don’t care where Simon came from,” I say, feeling like he just slapped me in the face. “I loved him, and you took him away from me.” The realization tumbles loose, revealing a wound I hadn’t realize I’d suffered, the pain of it something I hadn’t even let myself consider.

  That losing Simon hurt me just as much as losing his father.

  “I would’ve done whatever you asked, Jaxon.” I shake my head, force myself to look up at him. His clenched jaw. Tight mouth. Narrowed eyes. The way he won’t let himself reach for me. Holds his neck stiff, like every word I’m saying is a slap in the face. He doesn’t believe me. Won’t let himself.

  Still, I have to finish it.

  I have to say it, even if it destroys me all over again.

  “If you’d said, come with me, Claire—I would�
��ve. If you’d said, wait for me—I would’ve. If you’d told me that what happened between us was something that would never happen again and that I needed to move on, it would’ve killed me, but I would’ve let you go.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He shakes his head. “I—”

  “You knew you were going to end up hurting me, either way,” I say, talking over him. “You just didn’t want to see it.”

  He doesn’t have answer. Not for that—because it’s true. “I was afraid… I couldn’t stay and I couldn’t ask you for more, not without telling you the truth. I was afraid that if you knew, you wouldn’t want to be with me—that you’d look at me and see…” he swipes a rough hand over his face and shakes his head. “I don’t think I could’ve handled it. Pretty sure I still can’t.”

  His admission stops me cold. Makes me sorry for the way I treated him. For the way he sees himself through my eyes. “Then tell me now,” I say, taking a step back. “What do you want from me? What do you want me to do?”

  Silence.

  Nothing.

  He just stares at me, his throat working against things he’ll never make himself vulnerable enough to say, but I guess that’s my answer, isn’t it? Jaxon and I will always be caught somewhere between holding on and letting go.

  “You can’t say it, can you?” I shake my head. “You’re still afraid. I’m standing here, right in front of you, begging you to let me in, and you still can’t believe…” I catch my breath. Let it out on a sigh. “Okay.” I turn around, picking my purse up off the table. I’m crying now, my shoulders trembling with the effort to hold it all in. “Goodbye, Jaxon.”

  I leave. Through the kitchen doorway and down the hall, the way I’d come, on legs so numb I feel like I’m floating.

  Reaching for the front door, my arm hanging in front of me like a ghost, I pull it open. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know how I’m going to get there, but I’m the one who’s leaving this time. I’m not going to be left behind again.