Bitter

by S. L. Romines

  “Who’s that?”

  Still laughing Jax reaches for a smaller picture frame and points to a teenage girl in the photo. “My sister, Maxine. And the little boy in that photo-” he says, pointing to the picture in my hand, “is my nephew, Zach.”

  A good look at the young girl next to a young Jax and the resemblance is clearly evident.

  “So…who’s house is this?”

  “I grew up here,” he replies, setting both photos back in their rightful spots. “My parents own the house but decided since they are both retired now that they wanted to travel. So, they bought an RV and hit the road. And before they set out they handed me the keys and told me to enjoy. The place is almost always empty because of my deployments, so when they’re in town they stay here.”

  I look over at the mantel and scan the photos again. In one of the family portraits, I notice an older woman and an older man with two young kids. The four people resemble one another in one form or another. A closer look and I realize that the young man in the photo is a younger Jax, standing proudly behind his father. For a moment, jealously moves its way in, taking up residence in my heart.

  I’d never had that. Ever. The only known photo, out of all that my stepfather destroyed one night in one of his drunken fits, is of my mother and me when I was a small girl. The only one smiling in the photo is me.

  Placing the frame back on the mantel, I push down every ounce of envy. The excessive need to disappear consumes me and without even thinking I head for the door. I grab at the handle nearly ripping it off the door, trying to get it open.

  “What the fuck!” I yell, pulling and twisting the knob but it won’t budge. “Cocksucking door!”

  Tears start to fall down my cheeks as anxiety starts to build.

  “Stop, Vivian,” Jax says, gently sliding his palms down my arms, resting them on my shaking hands. “It’s okay.”

  “No! No, it’s not okay, and what the hell is wrong with this damn door?”

  Jax grips my hands a little firmer and nuzzles my neck. His mouth is dangerously close to my ear, sending a jolt of arousal to snake up my spine.

  “It’s locked and you’re freaking out over nothing.” Jax removes my hands from the doorknob and slides his arms around my chest. Slowly turning me around to face him, I lose my composure when he smiles that goofy lopsided grin. He places a gentle hand on the side of my face. “It’s okay, babe.”

  Shaking my head, I look down at our feet. I can’t bear to look at him. Embarrassment is a wicked little bitch.

  “It’s not okay,” I say as the tears continue to fall. “I’m a mess, and I just jumped the gun and accused you of being married.”

  Jax’s chuckles and pulls me closer against his chest. I rest my forehead there and wonder how in the hell he could be so calm and collected about my accusatory outburst. I would be pissed.

  “I’m a mess, Jax, and have no business being involved with you or any other man for that matter.

  He pulls back a fraction and looks at me with soft eyes. “I can’t quit you now,” he says, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. “I only have you for tonight, remember? That was the deal you made me. I intend to hold you to it and spend every minute with your crazy ass.”

  Ugly, snotty sobs rip through me when he cups my face in both of his hands. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve…”

  I don’t get the chance to finish my apology when Jax’s lips meet mine. The kiss is soft, lingering, and my body quickly submits to him. How the hell am I supposed to actually let this man go?

  He kisses the tip of my nose and pulls back to look me in the eyes. His expression doesn’t hold anger or irritation, but it does hold something I haven’t seen since I was a very small child. My mother held that same expression towards me before the days of her depression. But this time it actually scares the shit out of me.

  “We have a few more hours until morning,” he says, pulling me close to his beating heart. “All I want to do in these last hours is hold you against me. Will you let me?”

  I don’t think about it when I nod my head.

  “Good. Let’s go to bed.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It’s Friday and I’m currently living in my own version of Hell.

  The last few days have been unbelievably miserable. When I woke up this morning the only thing I could think about was Jax and the last time we were together. Everything about my existence feels insignificant as if everything before meeting him hasn’t meant a thing. My past relationships have failed in comparison to the short, whirlwind encounter that was quite literally only supposed to be a blind date. Feelings were never supposed to get involved.

  And even after accusing him of being married and getting pissed off over nothing, Jax still wanted me. We even stayed up late into the morning and talked about his family.

  His dad had been a cattle rancher for the majority of his adult life, and his mother, a homemaker, had decided early on that she wanted to stay home and raise Jax and his sister, Maxine.

  As for his sister, I found out that she is two years younger than Jax and was a bit of a hell raiser when she was a teenager. When she was eighteen she had gotten pregnant with her son, Zach. The father split and she’s raised the little boy on her own.

  When I had asked Jax why he decided to join the military he said that he wanted to make some kind of a difference. He didn’t want to just sit on the sidelines and wait for things to happen.

  I settle into the couch and cover myself with a throw blanket. I try to keep myself from looking at the clock to no avail. It’s two a.m. and I’m wide awake. Just a couple dismal hours before Jax is gone.

  As I screw my eyes shut and wait for sleep to swallow me whole, an incoming text message pulls me out of my thoughts. My stomach squeezes tight, and I feel like I need to throw up when I see who’s calling.

  Vivian…I just wanted to send you a quick text before I leave in an hour. I’m gonna miss the hell out of you and I will always think of you. You are going to be the one thing that gets me through each and every single day. Nothing and I mean nothing will ever compare to the time we spent together. I lo…I’ll see ya. Jax

  I read the text several times over before I jump up from the couch as if a match was lit under my ass, grab my shit, and head out of the house. I quickly get on my bike and bring the engine to life. I read the text message one more time. I smile before pulling out onto the street and heading to the one place I need to be.

  The ride takes only minutes as I find myself pulling into the long dirt driveway that leads to the ranch house. The sky is still eerily dark and the wind is crisp and invigorating as it hits my face. I hit the throttle, wanting nothing more than to get to the house a little quicker.

  When I see Jax shove a large duffel bag into the cab of his truck, that familiar nauseating feeling hits me again. The side of Jax’s mouth lifts into a grin when I pull off to the side and shut the bike down. Not saying a word I jump off my bike, placing my helmet on the seat.

  “Changed your mind?”

  I walk over to him, my heart beating a mile a minute, and nod toward the taxi. “Skipping out on me I see.”

  That goofy lopsided grin makes an appearance, and I can tell that Jax is having an equally hard time keeping distance between us. But it has to be this way. When we agreed to a quick, easy “see ya later”, I had convinced myself it was for the best. I was afraid that if we touched I wouldn’t be able to let him go.

  “Ah, ya know how it is,” he says, playfully shrugging his shoulders. “Gotta keep em’ wanting more.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll see ya, huh?” I shove my hands deep inside my pockets and try to control my breathing. “Now go. We agreed to no sappy goodbyes, and my makeup looks too fucking good to mess up.”

  “I’m gonna miss you, you know.” Jax runs a hand through his hair. “Every damn day.”

  I inhale deeply and try not to cry.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, pulling my hand out of my pocket and waving him off. �
�I’m sure that once you get to where you’re going you’ll forget all about me.”

  “Impossible.”.

  I put a hand out and plead with my eyes when Jax takes a few steps towards me. I can’t let him near me or touch me. This is so damn hard. How do people survive this kind of tortuous pain?

  “I’ll see ya, Viv,” Jax says, and slowly winks at me as he turns on his heel to walk away. Getting closer to his truck, Jax swings back around and yells, “I fucking love you, Vivian, you crazy, psychotic broad! I fucking love the shit outta you!”

  And in that very moment, all of my walls come crumbling down. All apprehension evaporates, and all I see is Jaxon Maddox and realize that I fucking love him too. I really, really love him. And as crazy as that shit sounds, considering the short amount of time we’ve known each other, I fucking love him.

  My feet move on their own accord, and I run as fast as I can, jumping into his arms and kissing him without abandon.

  “I love you too, you stupid jerk. Always.”

  Dedication

  Mom, I wish you were still around to read this goofy mess. I’m pretty sure you would’ve pissed yourself laughing. I love you…

  Bitter Sweet

  (Bitter Series Book Two)

  S.L. Romines

  Chapter One

  Preview

  “Well?"

  “Well, what?!”

  “For the love of Peter Fricken Pan,” Cass mumbles from the other side of the bathroom door. A loud huff following. “How many are there?”

  “None.”

  “That’s impossible, Viv. There has to at least be one.”

  My ass hurts. I’ve been sitting on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the hideous piece of plastic for the past last hour. I shake it violently and then chuck it in the sink, flipping it a double bird.

  “Open the door, Viv. Let me see.”

  “No.”

  “Viv, don’t be a pain in my ass and open the damn door.”

  “Go fuck yourself, Cass!” I bark out, flipping her off even though she can’t see me. “Besides, I think the fucking thing is broken.”

  “Why? What is it showing? One or two?”

  “One and a quarter.”

  Another loud huff resonates from behind the door, and I seriously want to kick Cass’ teeth in.

  “One and a quarter? Really, Viv?”

  “Really, Cass! What the fuck? This shit is fucking broken! The fucker is broken!”

  Giving up, I get up from the edge of the bathtub and drag myself to the door. Placing my hand on the knob, I breathe out through my nose and open the door.

  “Thank you,” Cass says, walking over to the sink. When she picks up the long piece of plastic, a wide smile stretches across her idiot face. “Congratulations, Viv.”

  I shove my thumb in between my lips and chew my nail. This cannot be happening to me.

  “This is your fault,” I say pointing an accusatory finger at my best friend. “All your fault. Now, what the fuck am I supposed to do? I won’t be any good at this. At any of it!”

  I slump back against the bathroom door and tears start to build. Never in my very wildest dreams would I have ever thought that this would be any part of my life. Never.

  I flinch when Cass walks up to me and threads her arms around my neck. And when she kisses my face pesky fucking tears flood my cheeks.

  “You’re going to be the best mom ever, Vivian,” she says, squeezing me tighter, before pulling back and looking me in the eyes and giving me a meek smile. “Well, the best mom after me, of course.”

  “I hate you,” I say to her through tears and snot.

  “Well, I love you, and this baby is going to be loved a thousand times over. And I will be here to see you through it all. Okay?”

  I nod my head as visions of swollen breasts, shitty diapers, screaming babies, and baby puke dance through my thoughts. And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse…

  “Oh fuck!”

  “What?” Cass shrieks and jumps back from me. “What’s wrong?”

  I swallow hard as another round of tears threaten to spill.

  “My vagina is going to look like a pair of roast beef curtains! It’s going to fucking hate me!”

  I need Jax.

  S.L. Romines lives in a small town in Central California, and if you blink you just might miss it. She resides on a ranch with her family which she lovingly refers to as the funny farm. Between getting dish pan hands, listening to three bickering teenagers, pretending that she’s a gourmet chef (her family would like to disagree), and trying to tune out the sound of twenty-seven deranged Guinea fowl, somehow she finds the time to write about crazy characters that even make her laugh till she cries.