Ruin Me

by Jessica Sorensen

  "W-what's wrong?" she stammers, placing her fingers to her lips.

  "It's my--"

  "Jax, baby." The skeleton of the woman I used to know cuts me off, strutting toward me with a cigarette between her lips and her arms opened. "Come give Mama a kiss."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Clara

  At the sound and sight of his mother, the color drains from Jax's face. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were... dead." His arms fall lifelessly to his sides as he gapes at her in disbelief, as though he's unsure if she's real.

  I stare at her in a similar manner, but for a very different reason.

  The woman in front of us hardly resembles a person let alone a mother. With boney arms and legs, sunken cheekbones, and saggy skin, she looks too frail to even be standing. Still, if I look at her close enough, I can see the resemblance between her and Jax, at least in the eyes. Although, hers don't convey the same sort of kindness as Jax's.

  "Aren't you going to hug me?" She spans her arms to her side.

  Jax refuses to budge. "Not until you tell me what's going on."

  Her gaze is shifty, her body twitchy, like she's either afraid or on something--maybe both. "What, I can't stop by to see my son?"

  "Stop by to see your son?" Jas states incredulously. "You're the one who called me saying some guy named Marcus was going to kill you."

  She plucks the cigarette from her dry lips, and a cloud of smoke circles her face. "Is that why you came here, to check up on me?"

  "I thought you were dead," Jax snaps in the harshest tone I've ever heard him use. "Aunt Julie thinks you're dead, too."

  She rolls her eyes melodramatically. "Your Aunt Julie is overdramatic."

  "So are you, apparently." He waves his hand in her direction. "Because here you are, clearly fine."

  She pops the end of the cigarette into her mouth.

  I don't know how, but I have a feeling she's about to say something seriously messed up. Perhaps because of her soulless expression.

  "I lied," she divulges as she puffs smoke in Jax's face. "I staged the whole call so you'd come out here looking for me. I knew there was no way in hell you'd come for the real reason. I would have probably tracked you down sooner, but my phone's been disconnected for a while... I wasn't even sure you were here yet, but I ran into Melinda and sure enough, she said my cute little Jax was here looking for me. You were always so good about that."

  Rage shockwaves through his body as he lets out a sequence of curse words. Then he spins to the side and bashes his fist into the wall, startling the living daylights out of me. I've never, ever seen him so angry. I just want to hold him and tell him everything will be all right, even though I don't know if it will.

  "Jax." I try to soothe him as he punches the wall again and his knuckles split open. "Just calm down."

  The anger in his eyes simmers a notch when he sees me staring at him in horror.

  I'm sorry, he mouths before he slowly turns to his mother, cradling his injured hand against his chest. "I fucking knew it. I knew there was probably more to that call. Yet, I came here like a sucker."

  "You always did care too much," she agrees, flicking the ash from her cigarette. "And trust is your biggest fault." She gives me a look, as if she's warning me to be on the lookout for those traits in Jax, as if being caring and trusting is the worst thing in the world.

  "What do you want?" Jax growls before she can say anything else.

  She puffs on her cigarette. "A thousand dollars."

  A condescending laugh rings from Jax's lips and echoes around us. "Are you being fucking serious right now? Or are you just high?"

  Smoke snakes from her lips. "If I don't get it, I'll--"

  "Be in trouble with Marcus," Jax finishes hollowly.

  "How do you know about Marcus?" She grazes her thumb along the bottom of her cigarette, scattering ashes across the ground.

  "We met him while we were looking for you." He flexes his injured fingers. "He said you owe him a thousand dollars and to remind you he isn't a very patient man."

  "See, this is why I need your help." She scratches at the back of her neck. "Time is running out."

  "I don't get why you think I can help you, though." He shakes his head in annoyance. "I don't have a thousand fucking dollars. I spent everything I did have saved up on this goddamn trip."

  "You have no money at all?" she questions, skeptically eyeing him over. "Like zero dollars?

  "Nope. I'm flat broke." He seems proud to be telling her this, that he honestly can't give her money. "Guess your little charade was all for nothing."

  "Then how are you getting home? I mean, you gotta pay for gas..." She sticks out her hand to him. "Gimme some of that."

  Is this woman for real? Seriously, what the hell? My mother, who brought a rooster home, doesn't come off near as crazy as the woman standing in front of me right now.

  "I'm paying for the gas," I say, a conniving smile reaching my lips when she directs her attention to me.

  Her eyes narrow to slits and places her hands on her hips. "And you are?"

  "Jax's girlfriend and the person who's not going to give you the gas money," I explain with sugary sweetness dripping from my voice.

  She glares at me. "What gives you the right to speak to me that way?"

  I shrug. "I'll speak to you any way I like. I don't know you."

  "And yet you judge me," she retorts with disdain.

  "It's kind of hard not to when you've made it pretty clear you're the shittiest mother on the planet."

  She drops the cigarette to the ground and stalks toward me. "You little--"

  Jax pushes her, and she trips into the door. "Don't fucking put a hand on her," he warns.

  "Don't talk to me like that. I'm your mother," she fumes, her chest heaving with rage as she works to regain her balance.

  "Maybe by blood," Jax replies, sounding calmer, "but nothing more."

  She opens her mouth to disagree, but then decides against it and snaps her jaw shut. Then she fishes a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lights up another one. "You really don't have any money?"

  I shake my head in astonishment. How can someone like her exist?

  "Nope, not a damn dime," he answers, massaging his swelling knuckles.

  "Wait a minute..." She notes Jax's injured hand. "You still have that ring I gave you?"

  Jax tucks his hand behind his back. "I'm not giving you that back. That's the one damn thing I have that belongs to a family you never let me get to know."

  She rolls her eyes, annoyed. "That ring was never your grandfather's. I just told you that to stop you from asking about your father. Seriously, you were such a whiney kid."

  "So the story was bullshit?" His confidence weakens. "God, I don't even know why I'm surprised."

  She sighs impatiently. "Look, when you were younger, you went through this phase where you kept asking where your dad was after one of your teachers wanted you to make a family tree. Since I don't even have a clue who your father is, I made up a story about your grandfather giving me that ring to give to you one day. It was only to shut you up. I planned on taking the ring back when you were sleeping or something, but I honestly forgot you had it."

  "Then whose ring is it?" The hurt in his voice tears my heart apart.

  She shrugs indifferently as she stuffs the pack of cigarettes into her pocket. "I have no clue. I jacked it off this rich guy I was screwing. Figured it might be worth something."

  The silence that follows is excruciatingly painful.

  Shaking his head, Jax yanks off the ring and drops it on the ground. "You know, the really stupid part about this whole thing is that, if you would have just told me over the phone what was going on, I would have sent you the fucking ring."

  "I didn't really think about it... I was a little out of it when I called," she explains, scrambling to pick up the ring.

  "High as always and your kids are still paying for it." Jax interlaces our fingers, his hand tre
mbling as he swings around and heads for our room. "And FYI, I don't think that ring is worth a thousand dollars." She mutters something unintelligible, and Jax keeps walking, but turns toward her before he unlocks the door to go inside. "Do me a favor, okay?"

  "Okay... whatever you need." She barely pays attention to him, focused on the ring in her hand.

  "Don't ever fucking call me again." His voice is composed, but his body quivers.

  Her fingers curl around the ring. "If that's what you want, then I'll give it to you."

  His jaw is set tight as he gives a firm nod. "It's what I want."

  "Okay, then." She grins, like she really does believe she's done this great favor for him. Then she hurries away from us and toward the road.

  Once she's vanished into the night, Jax releases a deafening exhale as his head slumps against the door. He bangs his forehead against the wood a few times, his body shaking as he takes several erratic breaths. He's crying and I have no clue what to do. I know that, after my father died, I spent a lot of time alone in my room, sobbing my heart out. The loneliness made me feel sad and empty inside, like I'd never feel warm again.

  I do the only thing I can think of and wrap my arms around him. "Hey, I know this sounds stupid right now, but it's going to be okay."

  "I know it is," he mutters, facing me with his head tucked down. His arms enclose around me and he buries his face in my hair, soundlessly crying.

  When he finally pulls away, his eyes are red and puffy. "Sorry." He clears his throat, seeming ashamed by his emotional breakdown.

  "Don't apologize. Remember, I'm here for support." I dry a few stray tears from his stubbly cheek with my fingertips. "And look on the bright side. Now you know she's okay, and you can go home."

  "We can go home," he presses with a smoldering look that makes my skin feel like melting wax. "I really like the sound of that."

  "You know what? I do, too," I agree.

  With a trace of a smile, he slides the cardkey through the lock and opens the door.

  As I'm walking inside the room, I glance back at the desolate parking lot where Jax's mother walked away from her son without so much as a glance back. Even though I've enjoyed my time with Jax, I'm glad to be going home. As stressful as my life is, and as complicated as my mother can make things, I'm lucky I still have her, even if it's just pieces of her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jax

  After my mom leaves, Clara and I go into the room and lie down on the bed. My eyes burn from crying and while I should feel like a pussy for being so emotional in front of Clara, I don't.

  "I'm so tired." She yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

  I roll over beside her, line my body with hers, and drape my arm over her side. Feeling her warmth erases some of the cold my mother put inside me. I forgot how cold I could feel when I am around her. So empty. So unloved.

  "Jax Hensley." Humor laces Clara's tone. "Are you spooning me right now?"

  "Yep, it makes me feel better." I nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck and breathe in the scent of her perfume. "Does that bother you?"

  She shakes her head, tipping her chin to look back at me. "If it makes you feel better, then spoon away."

  I press closer and place a kiss to her neck right on her pulse.

  She shivers, her heart racing. "What do you want to do for the rest of the night?"

  As much as I want to peel off her clothes and slip inside her, I don't want to do it while I'm feeling this depressed.

  "Can I just hold you while we fall asleep?" I ask, hoping she doesn't run out the door from my request. "I know that seems stupid, but--"

  "It's not stupid at all," she interrupts me. Her hands tremble as she places them on my arms and pulls me closer.

  I smile against her neck. "I think you might like me a lot, Clara McKiney."

  "Maybe."

  "Maybe even what? Love me?"

  "Shhh...." she whispers, but I can hear the grin through her voice. "Go to sleep."

  We spend the rest of the night curled up in bed, spooning each other. It's probably one of the best and worst nights of my entire life. Best, because I have Clara and worst because I realize how much energy I've wasted worrying about my mother all these years.

  The next morning I feel a tad bit better. . Not only am I going home, but in the midst of arguing with my mother, I somehow got a bit of closure. For the last couple of years, I've felt so guilty over bailing on my mom when it was clear she couldn't take care of herself, but after that move she pulled to get money from me, my conscious feels clearer.

  Now, if I can just convince my sister I'm okay, life will be fantastic.

  "Are you sure you're going to be okay driving all the way home?" Avery asks me over the phone. The speaker is on so I can easily chat with her while I pack. "After what happened, I'm a little worried you might be too stressed out."

  "I'm fine," I assure her as I stuff a pair of jeans into my duffel bag. "Clara's here with me and she can help me if the stress interferes with my driving skills." I roll my eyes at the absurdity.

  "You always say you're fine, even when you're not," Avery argues.

  "I'll keep an eye on him," Clara calls out as she walks out of the bathroom wearing shorts that hug her perfect ass, a clinging pink tank top, and towel drying her hair.

  "Hey Clara," Avery greets cheerily. "How are you?"

  "Fine." Clara drops the towel on the bed then scoops up a brush from the nightstand. "I'm glad to be heading home, though."

  "I bet you are," Avery says. I can hear a guy talking in the background, telling Avery to relax. It's probably Tristan, which is good. He's great at getting Avery to chill out when she's in mom mode. "That place can really get to you, huh?"

  "The trip hasn't been all that bad." Clara's cheeks flush as she glances at me with a flare of desire in her eyes.

  Such a dirty mind, I mouth as I fold a shirt up.

  "Good, but just keep an eye on Jax, okay?" Avery says. "He hates admitting when he needs help."

  "I will," Clara reassures her while running the brush through her damp hair.

  Avery makes me promise her I'll call if I need anything before I hang up.

  "She cares about you a lot." Clara stuffs the brush into her bag then winds around the bed toward me.

  "She worries too much." I zip up my duffel bag.

  "Worrying about someone isn't a bad thing."

  "Nope, not at all."

  "Are you sure you're okay, though?" she checks, gently grabbing my hand that I bashed into the wall last night. She examines my scraped, swollen knuckles. "Does it hurt?"

  I shake my head, watching in fascination as she fusses over me. "Not really."

  "What about here?" She lets go of my hand and presses her palm to my chest, right above my heart.

  "You're getting soft on me," I joke lightly, even though my heart does ache. "But that's okay. I like this side of you."

  Her cheeks pink with embarrassment. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

  "I'm fine, so stop worrying." I sweep my finger across her cheek, then pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder. "Now it's time for me to fuss over you."

  She leans over to grab her bag from off the floor, flashing me a great view of her ass. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, it's time to head up to the Tetons."

  "I'm going to be fine. It's not like my father just passed away. It's been a couple of years. I've already mourned. This is just for closure and so he can finally be laid to rest."

  "I know you've already mourned, but if you get a little bit emotional just know that I'll be right there to hold your hand."

  She doesn't say anything, only stands on her tiptoes and places a kiss on my stubbly cheek, which might speak more than words.

  "Thank you," she whispers then rushes off to make sure she hasn't left anything in the bathroom.

  After we've gathered all our bags and belongings, we head out the door. Then we load up our bags, and check out a
t the front desk. As we're returning to the Jeep to leave, a sleek, black car pulls up beside us. The tinted windows obscure the view on the interior, but I have a feeling I might know whose inside.

  Moments later, the back window rolls down, and my suspicions are confirmed.

  I inch to the side, blocking Clara from Marcus's view.

  A slow grins curls at his lips. "So, funny thing, your mom showed up last night saying she'd have my money by morning. I woke up thinking I'd be seeing my thousand dollars. Come to find out, she stole a lot of very valuable stuff from me and took off."

  There's absolutely no shock factor to what he said. Part of me suspected that my mother more than likely run off with the money she made from the ring instead of paying her debt.

  "Okay... What do you want me to do about it?" I ask, glancing around at the parking lot. There's no one around, which isn't an ideal situation. I can see the front desk clerk watching us through the window which eases my worry just a little.