Sizzle and Burn

by Lexie Davis

  She was an emotional wreck ever since the doctor told her what happened. She understood his need to protect her but hated that he walked on egg shells because of it.

  “Tell me.”

  “You miscarried on the same day my mother died.”

  She remained quiet, letting him talk about it and not pressing him for information.

  “My mom was pregnant when she died, with a little baby girl. Chloe was her name.”

  Autumn laced her fingers with his. “Chloe’s a beautiful name.”

  “Yeah.” He licked his lips. “My mom let me help her pick it out. She wrote down three names she liked and I got to choose out of those three which one we’d call the baby. I chose Chloe.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Nine.”

  A million questions ran through Autumn’s mind, each one being something she knew she couldn’t ask him. She wanted to know about his past. She wanted to understand his background, where he came from, who brought him into this world and made him the man he is today. She wanted to ask these things but at the same time she never wanted to talk about it. His past brought him pain, and no matter what age, losing a parent is hard.

  “Look, I didn’t mean to bring a rain cloud in on our sunny day. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He kissed her and she laid her head back against his shoulder.

  “Jax, there’s no such thing as a ‘perfect’ day. Being with you is my perfect day, and honestly, that’s all I can ask for.” She turned in his arms. “I want you to know you can tell me anything, Jackson. Don’t hold back your feelings because your afraid you’ll upset mine. I hate that you’re dealing with so much pain by yourself. I know it’s in the past. I know losing a parent is hard, and you’d do anything you could to spend just one more day with them. But talking about it might help clear the air.” She framed his face with her hands and kissed him. “You’re a good man, Jackson. A good, honorable man who deserves to be happy no matter what happened in the past.”

  She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. “I love you so much, even if you don’t think it’s possible and even when I’m mad at you.” She smiled at him and he gradually returned the favor. “I love the look I put in your eyes when we’re together and alone, being casual or intimate. You make me feel so special with that look, Jackson, and I could only hope I reflect the same.”

  “I’ve got to do something.” He glanced away from her, tears filling his eyes. “Something by myself.”

  Autumn gazed at him. She wanted him to open up to her, not pull away. “Do you want to take me back home?”

  He nodded. After the quick drive home, she stood in the front yard with her arms wrapped around her stomach and watched him leave. Davis came outside and pulled her into the porch swing where they sat together for a while, peacefully quiet.

  “How did his mother die, Davis?” Autumn pulled her legs up and turned toward her brother. “He told me she was pregnant and that she was killed. What happened?”

  He met her eyes. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Was she murdered?”

  “Autumn, he needs to be the one to tell you.”

  “Why? He’s hurting, Davis. I tried to get him to open up, but he’ll only talk about losing the baby. His past is off-limits.” She hugged her legs to her chest. “He said I miscarried on the day his mother died. That hurts me enough as it is, and I know it’s hurting him.”

  Davis wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Beverly was pregnant with Chloe, Jackson’s unborn little sister. Both died as a result of protecting him.”

  Autumn tears filled her eyes. “Where was his father?”

  “Autumn, I really want to tell you, but he needs to be the one having this discussion. Not me.” He kissed her cheek. “Did he say where he was going?”

  She shook her head. Jackson was in military mode which meant he was all work and no play. He was in the hardcore, don’t-fuck-with-me mode where he would chew you out in a heartbeat should you look at him wrong. She hadn’t seen him that way since the first day he walked back into her life.

  “Do you really think he loves me?” Autumn shifted away from Davis, needing some space. “Because I love him, and if he walks away this time . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  Her brother leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Do you really need to ask that question? I know he doesn’t say it, but I’ve seen him showing it with my own eyes. He may not know it’s love, may not want to admit it, but it’s there and there is nothing he can do to get rid of it.”

  Autumn nodded. “He told me once, in the kitchen. He said he loved me.”

  Davis turned toward her. “Do you believe him?”

  “I don’t want history to repeat itself.”

  As far as she was concerned, they had a long way to go. She wanted to believe that no matter what, they could conquer anything if they stuck together. But he would eventually have a decision to make, one that possibly excluded her from his life. She hated thinking it. Hated that the thought of him saying, “I love you” to cater to her emotional needs crossed her mind. He said he meant it, but he only said it once. Why that was so important to her, she didn’t understand.

  * * * *

  After two days of drunkenness, Jackson tipped his fifth beer of that day to his lips and stared down at the grave of Beverly Ann Cooper. It’d been years since he’d been to her grave. The first five after his father’s death, he had brought vodka or beer to numb the pain. He couldn’t stand the memories seeing her name brought, couldn’t relive the past as he often did. She’d been gone twenty-five years, and each one hurt worse than the last.

  Jackson’s eyes burned from the tears. The beer in his hand didn’t numb the pain any better today than it had back then. His heart ripped to shreds and losing his baby on top of it all just added to the mix.

  Autumn became his comfort, he realized in the short time he stayed with her. No matter what stupid comments he made, what actions took place she was there. And she cared. She loved him like no other person on earth ever had. She gave him stability when all he had in his life was chaos and he needed her now.

  He grabbed his cell and punched in her number. He just wanted to hear her voice. He knew she was in pain herself and ached to hear her laugh or see her pretty face. It was time to bite the bullet and put it all on the frontlines. He needed to talk to her about everything no matter how bad it hurt.

  The phone rang and she picked up. “Hello?”

  Jackson’s tears felt like hot lava flowing down his cheeks. He tipped the bottle back and wondered what the hell he was doing. Where he was supposed to go from here.

  “Hello?” she asked again.

  “Hey,” he croaked, his heart breaking all over again.

  “Jackson?” Autumn’s voice seemed almost relieved. “Where are you? I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Fort Dix Cemetery.”

  Her side of the line fell silent and then she said, “Are you okay?”

  He tipped the bottle to his lips with a shaky hand. “No.”

  His head ached from the continual buzz, but his mind was clear. He still saw the horrid pictures of his mother lying on the floor, blood pouring from her body. The image ha haunted him for years, still haunted him, as he sat in the cemetery talking to the one person who could possibly help make it all go away.

  “Jackson, will you stay where you’re at so I can come to you?”

  “Yeah,” he rasped. “Hurry.”

  He clicked the phone off and dropped his head to his hands. Autumn would know what to do. She had a good heart and a strong mind. She would know what he needed to do to get over this. She would be his only hope of getting over his sins of the past.

  * * * *

  Autumn spotted him immediately and knew he was drunk. Davis promised her Jackson would be fine but two days without him was torture. He knelt over someone’s grave—his mother’s, she assumed—with his head in his hands shuddering.

  S
he walked toward him slowly. Her heart ached as each step brought her closer to him. She wanted to comfort him, to take away the pain and kiss away his tears. She wrapped her arms around him and he held to her tightly. He smelled like beer as he cried on her shoulder, shaking with sobs while she held him.

  “It all my fault.” He pressed his face against her neck, the stubble on his chin scraping against her skin. “She’s dead because of me.”

  Autumn glanced at the tombstone. In bold letters, it stated: Beverly Ann Cooper. Beneath it, it showed the date of her death, twenty-five years ago. She stroked his back, holding him as tight as he held her. He clutched her shirt in his hands with his lips against her neck.

  “I’m sorry.” He spoke, though she knew he wasn’t speaking to her. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Autumn kissed him. “Jackson, why don’t we get a motel for the night?” Home was only a few miles away, but he needed to be alone with her. “Let’s get a room at Fort Dix Motel.”

  He nodded against her shoulder.

  She helped him up and walked him to her car. After settling him in the passenger seat, she got behind the wheel and drove to the motel just a few blocks away. When they arrived she rented a room and then unlocked the door and helped him stumble inside. She stripped off his clothes and forced him into the bathroom where she turned on the shower and pushed him inside.

  She stood there, holding him up with the cold water spraying down on him. Whatever pain he harbored inside, getting drunk was hardly the way to deal with it. She grabbed the bar of soap and lathered her hands and began to wash the stench of beer and sweat from his skin.

  “I want to be inside you, Autumn. You’re the only thing that can make the pain go away. I want to fuck you now.”

  Autumn rubbed her hands along his stomach. “Jackson, neither one of us is ready for that. You’re drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk.” He shook his head. “If I were drunk I wouldn’t feel the pain anymore.”

  She stopped her movements and glanced up at him. He broke her heart standing there. She looked into his glossy eyes and saw the pain he talked about. A pain that to him was not on the surface, but soul deep.

  “Tell me what happened, Jackson. Tell me everything.”

  He pulled her against his wet body and kissed her. She closed her eyes and squeezed him in a hug, afraid to let him go. The only thing that mattered was him. She wanted him close to her just as much as he needed her near him.

  After the water turned icy against their skin, she pulled away long enough to flick the water off and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist. She pulled one for herself and quickly shed her wet clothes and wrapped the soft terry cloth around her. Jackson stood in a stupor, hurting so badly she could see it in his eyes. She reached for his hand and led him to the bed where he fell face first against the mattress. She climbed in beside him and waited for him to start the conversation.

  “I was just nine,” he began with a whisper. “My mom was pregnant with a little girl, something she thanked God for every day. My dad, however, was an abusive man and liked to take a lot of his troubles out on others.” He grabbed a pillow and propped it up under his chin. “He hardly hit me, but I’d done something that day and he took off his belt and hit me, over and over. My mom came in, in the middle of it and snapped. She pushed me away from him and put herself between us. She told my father he could do anything he wanted to her, but he wouldn’t touch her child. She stood up for me.”

  Tears filled his eyes when they met hers and Autumn reached out to touch his hand. He stopped talking and she wanted to push him to tell her more. She brushed his wet hair back and waited patiently.

  “They started fighting, and my dad pinned her to the floor. He called her every name in the book as he punched her. She begged him to stop, but he kept on until she started bleeding.”

  Jackson went quiet. The silence was almost deafening to her ears as she waited for him to resume talking again. She couldn’t imagine what he went through witnessing that. She couldn’t imagine what he lived with feeling the way he felt. In a silent signal telling him it was okay to continue, Autumn scooted closer to him. She rubbed his neck and kissed his forehead before pressing his head against her shoulder.

  “I’m right here, Jackson.” No matter how hard she tried, Autumn would never get Jackson close enough.

  “I know. I wanted to stop it. There was so much blood coming from her, and she wasn’t moving. I tried stopping him. I screamed. I cried. I jumped on his back. Nothing stopped him, though. He slammed me into the wall and kept hitting her until she stopped fighting.”

  Autumn closed her eyes, forbidding the tears gathering in her eyes to fall. “What happened afterward?”

  “My dad looked over at me and said my mom paid for my sins and that he was stuck with a sorry bastard son like me.”

  “Oh, Jackson.” The tears fell. She wrapped her arms around him.

  Gently, he pushed her away and sat up. Autumn saw him change right before her eyes. He went from the caring, loving Jackson who made her feel like the luckiest woman alive to the hardcore Marine that was out for blood and would stop at nothing to get it.

  “He convinced the police he came home to find her that way. Ruled it as a burglary or something. Naturally, the investigators in our small town found nothing, and he walked away free and clear. I spent nine years with that man. He beat me for no reason other than the fact he took great pleasure in it. I spent many nights wondering if there was a better life for me out there, something that didn’t hurt, you know? I guess I wanted a Brady Bunch kind of life.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if that even exists, but the only solace I found was in women’s bed. I lost my virginity at fifteen to a woman who took me into her home and gave me a safe place to sleep at night. I begged my friends to let me stay with them so I wouldn’t have to go home. I did my best to finish school and hopefully make something of myself.”

  Jackson tossed the pillow aside and fell back against the mattress with a groan. “I know how that makes me look in your eyes, but you don’t understand what it was like living with that man.”

  Autumn tilted her head to the side, absorbing the information he just gave her. “I’m not here to judge you, Jackson. I love you with no conditions and everyone has bits of the past that their ashamed of. You had your reasons for what you did, and those reasons are something I accept. You were just a kid and you didn’t deserve any of this, Jackson. Nor is any of it your fault.”

  “Why do you have to be so nice? You could cut me down and yell at me for what I did, not only to you but also the women before and after you. I did fuck anything in a skirt for the pitiful excuse of finding some kind of happiness in my pathetic life. How can you just sit there and be nice to me?”

  Autumn debated her words, choosing them wisely. “Would you rather I be mean? You want me to be like every other person who has come into your life and cut you down, treat you like shit and make you feel like a failure? I know what you’re thinking, Jackson, and it won’t work. I will not give you reason to push me away. You were hurt. Not only physically but emotionally and spiritually as well. Trust me, I’m not being nice, as you put it, because I pity you. You don’t need my pity or anyone else’s for that matter.”

  She carefully straddled his lap and leaned over him, forcing him meet her eyes. “I love you, and people who love each other, support one another. You were hurt and you’re still hurting.” She placed her hand over his heart. “You are special to me and I’m here for you.”

  Jackson’s hands smoothed over her back, gliding down until he cupped her buttocks. “You really mean it?” he whispered.

  She kissed him, unable to voice anymore words. All the time she’d known him, Jackson was strong. Even when they were intimate, he showed little vulnerability. Autumn hugged him, wishing she could do more to make his pain and suffering go away.

  “There’s more to the story.” He propped his chin on her shoulder. “When I turned eighteen, three days before I
was set to leave for boot camp, my father pulled a gun on me.”

  Autumn’s heart raced. She pulled back and stared at him while he spoke.

  “He didn’t like it that I was leaving. He threatened me, among other things, and finally lashed out at me physically, and I snapped. I was older and stronger and could take on the drunk better than I realized. I felt so much anger toward him, and I don’t know what happened. The Major said I probably blacked out since I only remember pieces of it but I started punching my father just like he did my mother. The gun fell to the side, and when he laid motionless, I picked it up.”

  He stopped again, obviously tired of telling his story. Autumn ran her fingers through his wet hair, trying to catch his attention, to get that lost look of darkness off his face.

  “I didn’t think, only reacted, and pointed the gun at him. I saw it all over again like a horror movie flashing before my eyes. He taunted me, told me I wasn’t man enough to stand up for my family, that I was a worthless piece of shit who should have died with my mother.” Jackson gulped a breath. “I shot him.”