My heart feels shredded and I suck in a breath. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help him. I tiptoe back up the stairs and slide to the floor, sitting against the wall. I can hear him still, punching. Over and over and over. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself, or tear a muscle. But I know he won’t stop, not even if I ask him.
I sit for at least another hour, my elbows on my knees, my face in my hands. And then the pounding finally stops. There is silence and then there are footsteps on the stairs.
I look up just as Pax emerges.
He looks down at me, then bends down and scoops me up.
He’s sweaty, but I don’t care. I lean my face against his chest.
Wordlessly, he carries me up the stairs and into the bedroom where he strips off his underwear and reaches for me. I’m surprised, but I fold into his arms. If this is the way he needs comforted, then so be it. I’ll do anything to take the hurt off of his face.
His lips crush mine, hard. I kiss him back, but I quickly realize that this isn’t going to be our normal sex. This is hard and primal. Anguished. He bends me onto the bed, and slides into me from behind with no foreplay. I wince just a bit, but it doesn’t take long until I am wet.
He slides in and out; hard, rough, fast.
He grips my ass and thrusts harder.
My hands grip the comforter on the bed and I stare at it. Pax isn’t really here with me. This isn’t him. This is just him trying to block everything out. I know that, even if he isn’t telling me.
It doesn’t take long before he shudders against me; straining, pushing.
He falls with me to the bed and when I look at him, for just a second, it is Pax again. His eyes are open and wide.
“I’m sorry,” he tells me softly, clutching me. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”
I don’t know who he is really apologizing to, me or maybe even his mom. I just don’t know. But I don’t care. I stroke his back as he shakes until he finally is still. He lies there for the longest time before he climbs out of bed and closes the bedroom door behind him.
I don’t follow. I know he wants to be alone. And for the life of me, I don’t know how to help him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Pax
Hours turn into days.
I don’t know how many and I don’t give a fuck. All I know is that I can’t turn the emotions off and I can’t un-see the memories that are in my head now.
My father tries to call, but I don’t speak with him. Mila answers and turns to me but I look away. I don’t want to hear from him. Fuck him.
Dr. Tyler tries to call. But I won’t speak with him, either. Mila asks, then she turns away, speaking softly to the doctor. But I don’t give a fuck about that, either. They can say what they want.
And Mila.
Fuck.
My stomach clenches at the thought of Mila. I’m causing her pain, too. Because I can’t be the person she needs me to be right now. I can’t drive back to the doctor’s and sit with her while we discuss my feelings. Instead, I’m an asshole. Because that’s who I am. That’s what I do best. There for a while, I tried to pretend that I wasn’t, but my true colors are showing now.
I’m a fucking dick.
Nothing I’ve done so far, though, has caused her to leave. I don’t want to talk, I pace instead of sleep, I drink too fucking much and I even angry-fucked her. She didn’t leave. She just looked at me, so understanding and soft, and said she wanted to help me however she could.
What the fuck?
My stomach clenches. As angry as I am at life, I don’t want to hurt her.
I turn to her now, to where she is curled up on the couch reading.
“Mila, you really should leave,” I tell her abruptly. “I’m not fit company. I think it would be best if you went back to your place while I work through this.”
She looks at me, wounded. And my gut clenches again. I know I have to do this. I’m only going to hurt her in the long run anyway. I might as well do it in one fell swoop. A clean break. She starts to protest, but I interrupt.
“It’s fine to leave me. I’m through the worst of it. You have a life to get back to, a job. Your sister needs you. Please. I need time alone. You can call me tonight.”
She looks uncertain and my heart twinges.
Fuck, how I hate this.
But this is what I deserve. I don’t deserve someone like her.
She stands up, reaching up to touch my face. I close my eyes for just a minute, but then steel my resolve and open them again.
I stare down at her and remove her hand. That hurts her, I can see it.
It’s for the best.
She finally nods.
“Okay. If that’s what you need,” she says uncertainly. “But call me if you need anything. And I’ll come back tonight after I close my shop and check in with my sister.”
I nod. I walk away before I stop her from leaving.
I hear her car pulling out of the drive and I throw my glass of water at the wall. It shatters and I replace it with a bottle of Jack.
This is what I deserve.
My chest feels like it is crushing me and I fight to swallow. There is just so much to deal with. I don’t know where to start. So fuck it.
I grab the bottle of Xanax from the counter and head to the couch with my whiskey. I drop into a heap and pop the top off the pill bottle, taking several and washing them down with the Jack.