Axel

Chapter 10

I give Dee another look; she seems to understand and gives me a small nod. I completely ignore Greg, turn and prepare to follow Axel to parts unknown. I know what is coming and I might not be ready, but something is telling me that I have no choice. Axel wants answers, he warned me and I knew he would be determined.

He might think he can bully himself back into my life, like he hasn’t just been gone for the last twelve years, but he has another thing coming if he thinks I am just going to roll over and play dead. My fight might be gone, but I am far from out.

We start walking down the sidewalk; him leading and me following silently behind him. When we reach his mammoth truck, I stop and look at it. How the hell am I supposed to get in that thing. I am eye level with the footboard thing. Isn’t the purpose of that thing to help people get into vehicles? Typical man, making these damn things impossible. Axel is standing next to me holding the door, waiting for me to climb in. I look from him to the truck a few times. He can’t be for real right now.

“Get in now, I don’t have the patience for your shit.” His voice still sounds lethal. I have no idea what would make him so mad, he has me and it technically is still Saturday…even if there are only a few hours left. So, I didn’t exactly do anything wrong. The deadline is up and I’m here, right?


“Hate to point out the obvious, Holt,” I can’t seem to help myself from sneering his name, his new name, “but how exactly do you expect me to get in now, as you have so kindly demanded?”

His eyes flash and fill even more with blinding rage. His face takes on an even harsher hard look, stone cold. “What, the f*ck, did I tell you about calling me Holt?” He throws at me. His face is almost nose to nose with mine; his rapid breaths are hitting my own mouth in warm burst. I can taste him on my tongue and I gasp in shock. My eyes go wide at his close proximity. Even in my current mood, I can’t help but remember all the times I looked into these eyes before. All the times they didn’t hold anger but untainted love. “One more time, and I swear to God. Get in the f*cking truck.” He bites out, pushing each word toward me with great force.

“You idiot, what do you think I am doing? Standing here for shits and f*cking giggles? No, definitely not. I can’t get into your stupid truck. If you would take a second to actually look, you would see this. Your little Napoleon Complex is cute, really it is, but it is also keeping me from getting in the f*cking truck!” I scream the last part in his face, so loud that even my ears are ringing. I instantly slam my hand over my mouth, regretting my outburst and fearing his reaction.

He shocks me when, instead of lashing out, he starts to shake with silent laughter, “Napoleon Complex, hmm? Do I really need to remind you just how untrue that statement is, Izzy? Take a look at me, my height isn’t the only thing that f*cking grew since you ran off.” After he throws that unexpected remark out, I am once again stunned.

Ran off? I would have thought he was talking about this past week, if it hadn’t been for the offhand comment about him changing. What is he talking about? I didn’t run off, he did. As my confusion grows, I am even more convinced that I do not want to have this conversation with him.

Finally, having lost his last thread of control, he grabs my hips and lifts, unceremoniously dumping me into the seat. He harshly mutters for me to ‘buckle my f*cking belt’, before he slams the door and disappears around the hood. My jaw is still hanging when he opens his door and slings his giant frame into the seat, turning the key and bringing this beast to a roaring start. He slams it into gear and shoots away from his spot.

Finally coming out of my stunned silence, I look over at his harsh face, “Where are you taking me, my house is the other way.” I meekly ask.

“I know where your house is, I also know that you have been there all week, even while ignoring me. I’m not taking you there, where you can have the protection of your little pit bull roommate. We’re talking and we will be doing it with no f*cking interruptions and no one to help you cower behind a locked door. Here me that, right f*cking now.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Maybe we can just go to the Starbucks around the corner?” Maybe if I had little more conviction he would have taken me seriously. The last place I want to be, is in his space, alone with him.

“Forget that right now. What I have to say to you will not be said around others. Get ready, Princess because I am done playing games. I don’t care if it takes an eternity, you will f*cking talk.”

I snap my mouth shut and turn to watch the city fly past him; trying frantically to think of a way out of this; a way to escape. I’m not ready, and I am even more convinced that I might not ever be.

(Axel)

My heart feels like it might burst from my chest at any second, just blow up, right out of my body. The pounding of my heart, even booming in my ears as loudly as it is, is doing nothing to disguise the soft sniffling coming from the other side of my truck. As much as I wish I could keep my heart hardened from her, the sound of her crying is tearing me up. I shouldn’t have any compassion left for her; it should have died a long time ago.

I knew from my reaction to seeing her again last Saturday, that this chat wouldn’t be easy. There are still feelings; feelings that I thought were long gone and lost forever; trapped in that box with my heart. This girl ripped my heart to f*cking shreds and I never knew why. It would have been quicker if she had stuck around and shot me in the f*cking chest. At least I would have died instantly, instead of bleeding out slowly for the last twelve years.

Jesus, I can’t get the image out of my head, of her slender body holding that small excuse for a towel against her chest. When she let it drop from her tight hold, I thought I would swallow my tongue. Her tits were always f*cking perfect but to see them like that, with her nipples erect and sporting two hot barbells, I might have shot off in my pants. As much as I wanted to drop to my knees and suck her pert pink nipples into my mouth, I couldn’t help my first thought: that motherf*cker had his hands on her. He held her tits in his hands. There was no reasoning with my brain that she wasn’t mine; I saw red.

Those are my f*cking tits and she is my f*cking girl. It doesn’t matter to my mind that it has been well over a decade since I was able to enjoy them; someone else touched what was mine. If I hadn’t thought she would take off and run again, I would have killed that little shit.

All week I have thought about her. She has been a constant stress that I don’t need when I am trying to get everything in my life in order. Greg and I have been busy enough with all the legal paperwork and issues that keep popping up with the new company. Plus meetings and moving into the office space, then briefings with him and the boys, and consultations with new clients. I don’t have time to be strolling down memory lane.

It wasn’t until Wednesday evening that I remembered Greg coming to talk to me about his friend. Iz, with the threat and husband that did not want to let go. Livid, that would be the first thing I felt. I remember thinking, very briefly, when I first saw her, about the connection but it instantly fled when all hell followed our collision. I need more information and I need it yesterday. I don’t know what kind of threat she is under and I don’t even really know much about her marriage. I assumed for so many years that she was happy I was crushed and pissed because I couldn’t bring myself to barge into her life if she was happy.

Even now, craving answers as fiercely as I do, my main focus is figuring out what is happening with this douche bag. The time to get my answers will come, but first we will be talking about this husband of hers.

I waited for her call yesterday; anticipating some bullshit reason why she wouldn’t be able to meet today. I hadn’t expected her to pull some vanishing act and hide all day. I should have. When lunch rolled around today and I still hadn’t heard from her, I set off for her house. When I got there to find it locked tight and no one home, I was pissed.

I called Greg to see if maybe I could gain one f*cking supporter in this fight, he said, “Not getting in this, she knows how I feel and she will talk when she’s ready. I don’t agree with this, but I will support her because she’s my girl.” He was not happy when I blew up in his ear. She is not his goddamn girl. It didn’t matter how many times I asked or straight up demanded, he wasn’t telling me where they were. Imagine my shock when I get a call, not even an hour later from Greg, spitting fire and giving up her location. When I arrived and walked into a tattoo parlor of all places, my rage joined his.

F*ck, those tits looked f*cking hot, though.

After another five minute drive and sporadic soft sniffles from Izzy and I pull up to the security gate of my house. After entering the code, I pull the truck up my driveway. I feel like I’m looking at the house from a new set of eyes, trying to see how she will view my success. I might be a thirty-one year old man, but even that doesn’t stop me from hoping she sees how far I’ve come; how I have finally taken myself from orphaned and penniless, to this. Part of the plans we had once made together, only this isn’t the one bedroom apartment we had our eyes set on. As much of a douche that it might make me, an even smaller part of me hopes she feels just an ounce of jealousy for how good my life is; how much I was able to accomplish without her in my life.


How laughable the thought. I would have gladly given every single penny to my name away, if it meant I would have had my Izzy with me all these years. But, this Izzy, no. I don’t even know this Izzy.

The house I bought was over the top, I know this, but f*ck if I would ever live cramped for space again. I’m sure there are plenty of shrinks that would love to get into my head; plenty of jacked up shit in there. I know why I bought this place and I don’t need anyone to tell me I am making up for my childhood haunts.

We clear the last of the Bradford pears that line my half a mile drive and the house is coming into view. Large and imposing. The deep red bricks almost look black against the night’s sky, the light next to the red double front doors beams bright and cheerful, almost inviting. Again, laughable. The colonial style house is made to be a home, not this farce I have going. The huge front porch looks cozy with the rocking chairs positioned between the large four columns and the flowers look domestic; it is just some huge juxtapose of my life. The outside doesn’t match the inside. The house is just as vacant as I feel right now and I don’t like it at all.

Time to get this over with.

Time to figure out whatever the issue is with her husband and find out what the f*ck happened to her.

Izzy is still just gazing out her window, but since we are sitting in my dark garage, my guess is this is her attempt at avoiding me. How the hell she plans on doing that when she is in my damn house and unable to leave without me taking her, is beyond me.

I can feel my temper rising. I’m fighting myself for control, control against my own frustrations, control over the pain that has no place in my heart anymore, and control against my raging hard on that seems to be pointing right at Izzy. I have never had this many issues with controlling the situations around me.

She must feel my eyes on her because she finally turns to me.

“What now?” It’s barely a whisper and if I hadn’t been looking at her I might have missed it.

“Get out of the truck; we talk. Simple as that. It only becomes this giant mess of immature games when you become difficult. So, work with me, because I’m sick of f*cking playing games.” I think that is nice enough, until the tears start rolling down her velvety cheeks.

Goddammit.

I climb down from the cab and start making my way around the hood to her side, fully expecting to have to pull her out and throw her over my shoulder. But, surprisingly she is waiting next to the door and is clearly pissed about her long climb down.

“This way.” The welcome is just rolling off my words. I’m sure she can feel the vibes choking her. It’s hard to miss when someone would rather be anywhere than with the person they are with. Hard to tell if I would even be going through all this shit if it wasn’t for Greg and his request to help his friend. My gut tells me that I should just leave her alone, forget about her and the answers I crave. My gut is screaming at me to let it die, pass it over to Locke or Coop and pretend I never looked back into those pale green eyes again.

Fat chance of that.

I open the door to the mudroom off the garage and motion for her to enter. The house is dark so she pauses next to the door. Coming in behind her, I enter the alarm code and snap on the light to the kitchen. There are chrome appliances, dark wood cabinets, granite countertops and a whole lot of nothing else. No table, just two bar stools next to the island. It screams welcome home.

I point over to the stool and bark off one word. “Sit.”

She is looking at her feet, doesn’t even attempt to fight me, and sits. I give her a second, she knows why we are here, so hopefully she will just tell me what I need to know without making this a big deal. Ten minutes go by with me looking at her and her wringing her hands together in her lap.

“Talk,” I bark, the sound vibrates off the naked walls.

If I hadn’t been observing her for the last eternity, I might have missed the small jump she takes at my tone. It’s hard to tell if I scared her or if something else is working behind her eyes when she snaps her head up.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” More whispers. Seems like I might need hearing aids for this conversation.

“Well, let’s see. I didn’t drag you down here to give you a tour, I don’t need to catch up on the latest town gossip and I sure as f*ck didn’t bring you here for the company, so that just leaves one thing. First, you explain, in detail, what is going on with your husband,” I spit the word out, the bitterness on my tongue is loud and clear, “then you can explain to me what that f*cked up package meant. Details, Izzy, this isn’t a game and I tell you this, if it hadn’t been for Greg basically begging me to help you, I would not be doing this.”

It takes her a second; I can see my words working around her mind. She opens her mouth a few times, but words never come out. Right when I start to lose any thread of patience I have left; she finally speaks.

“Can’t someone else do this? Do you have to be the one?” I want to throttle her. F*cking bullshit, Greg will owe me big for this.

“End the high school bullshit. He didn’t ask me personally to take your shit for the hell of it. I’m good at what I do, Izzy. Locke and Coop, sure they could do it but I can do it better. Now, what the f*ck?”

She closes her eyes for a few minutes and inhaling deeply, “Brandon, my ex…well, almost ex. We had a…challenging marriage. I left a little over two years ago and moved here. He’s been fighting the divorce.” Didn’t take much of a deduction to guess she was leaving something out, a whole lot of somethings.

“Let me ask you something, Izzy. How do you expect me to look into this, into him, without anything other than you telling me your perfect marriage didn’t work? What, did he cheat on you or something? Finally get enough of living the perfect little life? Tell me, because I just don’t get it. The little I was able to dig up this week makes it look like you had everything your little heart desired. And what I really don’t get—what I really don’t understand is why he won’t just let you go.” Even to my own ears, that comes out harsher than I intended it to.

A little light on this situation would have been nice, because when she bursts into tears and runs off into the darken halls of my house I am completely thrown. Shocked. What in the f*cking hell? Grumbling like a fool, I take off to find her.

Almost thirty minutes later, I finally narrow the search. Really it shouldn’t have been this much of a challenge since I have more empty rooms than furniture. This is what I get for buying a six f*cking bedroom house I do not need. I look in every room on the main floor, nothing; jogged up the stairs and look in every room, nothing. I finally catch a break when I pass the bedroom next to the stairs, soft crying. I already checked this room and she hadn’t been there. I use this room to store all my old case files, being that all the other rooms except the one I sleep in, are empty she couldn’t pick a better hiding spot.

I finally find her, wedged between two big stacks of boxes. She has completely moused her way between them and turned into herself; legs pulled tight to her chest, and arms wrapped tightly around her body. She is rocking, f*cking rocking back and forth.

“Izzy, come out.” I try.

Nothing but soft cries.

“Come on now, get out of there.” And try.

Silence.

“Really Izzy, I’m too f*cking big to crawl in there for you. Out.” And try.


I keep going for ten long ass, frustrating minutes with no luck.

Enough of this shit. I start picking up the boxes around her, moving one at a time away from her small ball-like body. Once I have enough cleared that I can touch her, I reach my hand out to pull her up and out. I don’t expect her to throw herself back away from my outstretched hand. She has holed herself up so well that there isn’t much room between her head and the wall. She makes contract with a sick thud.

“F*ck,” I hiss out before scooping her up and carrying her down to my room. Flicking the lights on with my elbow, I walk over to the bed and place her gently down against the mattress before running my fingers through her hair.

Nice lump, stupid girl.

“Alright Izzy, enough of this. Now we can add explaining what the hell that was to the list.”

My patience is shot. Blown to f*cking dust. My mood is deteriorating with every second and she just looks at me with empty eyes. It’s like she isn’t even here with me. She just keeps roaming her eyes over my face. As pissed as I am right now, I can’t help but become sucked in to her all over again. She looks so scared, but it’s the longing I see all over her face that has me transfixed; like someone just kicked her puppy, killed her cat, and told her she wouldn’t get a pony for Christmas.

“Please, talk.” She jumps at my hushed pleading.

It takes her a minute and more of that heavy analyzing gaze before she speaks again. Her tone is dead, she sounds so small and defeated. Chills break out all over my body with her next words.

“It was so hard, Axel. So hard.” She looks away, focusing off into space instead of on me. “The first year was okay. He worked a lot but it wasn’t bad. He didn’t want me to work, said the only thing I needed to do was care for him, the house and any…kids. What did I know, stupid broken Iz, what did I know? Huh?”

She finally looks back at me; she looks like some spirit has returned but not much. I know this won’t be good before she even says a word. I have to fight the urge to punch something, reminding myself I asked for this.

“The second year was when he started to change a little. We didn’t go visit my grandparents as much, he was always asking me to stay home and not meet Dee for lunch or dinner. Little things that I didn’t notice at first…until they became big things.” She gives a bitter snort before taking another big intake of air. “I hadn’t seen Dee in a few weeks, I think it was a Wednesday…I don’t know. He was going to be late that day and the only thing I could think was, finally…finally I can see Dee. A half hour coffee date with Dee turned into a split lip. I didn’t even think he was out of line, you know, I thought I deserved it. I think Dee always knew things were off in the Hunter house. About a month after that I ran into her again. She begged me to open up to her, but I told her I was fine. Fine, what a joke that was.”

If I couldn’t feel my blood rushing through my body right now, I would be convinced I had turned to stone. Words were beyond me and my earlier taunts were smacking me all in the face.

I will kill this motherf*cker.

“Princess,” I reach down for her hand but she pulls it close to her body, “Was that the only time he put his hands on you?” I try for soft but the lethal fury in my voice can’t be missed.

“For a while. They didn’t start bad for another few months. He acted like he was sorry and it was an accident. They didn’t get bad until around our third anniversary.”

“What exactly is defined as bad, because I can’t find any good way for a man to touch a woman like that.”

When her eyes come back to me and that single fat tear slips from her eye I know, I just know.

“Don’t you feel pity for me, this wasn’t your mess. You didn’t make him do it. I should have left; been strong enough to leave. I didn’t have anyone, Axel, so don’t think I didn’t think about it. He was smart; he cut me off from everyone. I didn’t even get to go to my grandmother’s funeral and Pops…he wasn’t doing well either. I didn’t want Dee to know how bad it was, I was stuck…stuck with no one.”

This heavy pain shoots through my left side at her words. I should have been there, and as ridiculous the thought is, I can’t shake the thought that I let this girl down somehow. I have spent years hating her, thinking she had just forgotten us and moved on, to know she suffered was not sitting well.

“You know about mom and dad, right?” She looks up at me, all sad and broken for confirmation. With my weak nod, she continues. “Dee was all I had left. She finally caught me alone one day; I was picking up some groceries. That was one of the only things I was allowed to do alone. She pulled me into the bathroom and begged me to talk, begged me to leave. I brushed her off again. She bought me a prepaid phone and told me to call her, day or night if I needed her. We were able to sneak a few calls and secret meetings but not many. She didn’t live far, close enough to come when I could get away.” She stops for a while and I just sit there, struck dumb waiting on her to continue, all the while struggling not to go find this f*cker.

“Are you sure we need to go over this? It isn’t pretty, Axel.”

I want to scream no, no I don’t want to hear this. Anything but this. “Yeah, Izzy, keep going.”

“Okay,” pause, “well--,” Pause. Inhale. Exhale. “A few years back I went to meet Dee, nothing big, just wanted to see her. We had it all planned. I called her the day before from the phone she gave me, told her I missed her and just wanted to spend some time together. I set dinner in the slow cooker, ran my errands and snuck in a Dee visit. It would have been fine and he never would have been the wiser but I was running late. He got home right after me and even though I thought I had made it…he knew.” She stops and levels her eyes with mine, her eyes almost look gray, her eyes always used to change with her moods…gray was always the one I hated the most. “That was the night I finally used that phone for her to save me.”

I hadn’t realized I am not breathing until my chest starts hurting. I can’t even move, can’t even allow myself to move, my God…

“I got lucky, when I passed out the game wasn’t fun anymore and for the first time, he left after he finished with me. Dee got there, and got me out quick. I haven’t seen him since that day. The divorce has been in limbo for the last six or so months.”

I can’t stand to hear this story. I wish to God this was just a tale, not the life she was living when I thought she was happy. Not touching her is becoming unbearable. I reach over and grab her hand before she is able to pull it away, rubbing my thumb over her soft skin and looking into her eyes. As hard as it is for me to hear, it can’t be easy to retell.

“I don’t even know what to say right now, Princess. I…I just don’t know. It kills me to know you had to live with any abuse for a second, but years—Izzy, I have never wished harder that I would have been there.” Before I even finish speaking she wretches her hand away and scoots to the other side of my bed.

“No…you do not call me that, Axel. And, we are not going there. I’ve explained my marriage, but I will not go there with you. Leave it in the past, please.” Her raw desperation is the only thing that keeps me from fighting her on this. We will be talking about that, but I’m smart enough to know she will shut down if I force her now.


“Alright, Izzy, I got you. Explain the package to me. Greg told me what it was but I don’t get how it matches the story you told me. Did you have…kids?” The cost my control takes to get that out with a neutral tone is high. The thought of another man touching her is enough, but to think of another man planting his seed in her body, unimaginable.

She was mine.

She is mine.

She will always f*cking be mine.

I can see the walls coming up instantly; she is blocking me out and masking her emotions perfectly. I have no idea what made her shut down this time. I could stick a metal rod up her ass and she still wouldn’t be as stiff as she is right now.

“We couldn’t have children,” she says quickly and quietly, “That’s all that was; a reminder that I couldn’t give him children.” Done. That statement is said in such a way that I knew there will be no talking about that in detail. I’ll give her that play, I don’t know many women that aren’t a little upset about not being able to have children and deep down, I can admit the world without a chance of more Izzy in it is a dull place.

“That was the first time he contacted you?” I ask, in attempt to change the subject, making a mental note to ask Greg for more detail later.

“Not at first. I think he had a hard time finding me. I just recently started working, so he would have had to look for Dee to find me. There have been some calls, but nothing bad. Not until the package.”

There’s something I’m missing. I can’t ignore the feeling that there is a big part of this picture missing. This a*shole has been pretty silent and distant for so long, with the exception of the divorce hold up, he hasn’t been making waves. Something is off but I can tell she isn’t going to open up much more. I check the time and see it is creeping up on dawn, just cements the fact that we are done for the night.

“We need to sit down with Greg and the boys. I need to check out the system in your house and then you need to tell me how you want this to go. But that can all wait for tomorrow, it’s late and I’m sure your earlier brush with adventure isn’t exactly keeping you wide-awake. I’ll grab some clothes; you can use the bathroom then sleep. We can call the guys over in the morning.”

Her eyes are wide, wide and shocked. “I’m not sleeping here. You can take me home or I can have someone come get me. You wanted to talk and we talked. Now I want to leave.”

Throwing my head back and laughing was probably not the wisest move but she must be out of her f*cking mind if she thinks I am going to let her out of my sight before I can nail down a solid plan. She doesn’t know it yet, but we are about to become best of friends.

“Not fighting about this shit. It’s late and I’m sure anyone you would call has already gone to bed. One night isn’t going to f*cking kill you, babe. This bed might as well have the Gulf in the middle of it. I’ll stay on my side; tomorrow we will figure this out and get this mess straightened out. Don’t piss me off, take the clothes; go get f*cking cleaned up and sleep.” I walk over to the dresser and yank out a tee and some briefs, tossing them over to her, hitting her right in her stunned face. That seems to knock her out of whatever has her all tied up. With a huff and a whole lot of sass, she stomps over to my bathroom and slams the door.

I feel the strings of the years of hating her slowly start to loosen.

I can’t ignore the desire to make her mine, it is still there, but I can’t forget she left and forgot about me pretty damn easily. I will take care of this problem and then, then we will take care of us. We have enough to deal with right now; figuring out everything else can wait. I just can’t decide if I want to figure us out for closure or to bring us back together. Only time will tell; one thing at a time.

I step out of the room, pull my phone out of my pocket and dial up Greg. One ring and that f*cker answers like he has been waiting. I’m not sure what to take from their relationship, but I am not happy with how close they seem.

“Is she okay?” He asks and, f*ck me, he sounds wrecked.

No, not wrecked. He sounds destroyed.

“She will be, told me about the ex. You did not tell me he f*cking hurt her. You did not tell me a f*cking thing about how bad it was, Greg. Problem husband not wanting a divorce, that is what you said. Can you imagine my shock when I find out he slapped her around?”

“Act like a bitch later, Reid. How is she?”

“That shit isn’t finished with me and you, hear me that. She’s changing, keeping her here for tonight. Family meeting, motherf*cker, my house tomorrow morning.” I should be glad she has someone determined to be her support but that is getting locked down. I am back and Greg isn’t taking that job from me.

“She’s sleeping there? You have one bed, Reid. I can be there in ten to take her home. I’ll stay there until tomorrow when we can get together, then we can reassess.”

“No. End it Greg, I will fight you and fight you hard on this one.”

His harsh exhale comes over the line, “I don’t like this, not one f*cking bit. If you f*ck her up, swear to f*cking Christ, I will kill you.”

I pull the phone away from my ear; surely I did not just hear him right.

“No time, Greg. We will talk, but right now I have more important things to deal with. If you take anything from me right now, know this and remember…never would I harm a f*cking hair on her head. Never.”

“If you believe that Reid then you’re more delusional than I thought. I guarantee you, just being there is hurting her enough to last a lifetime.” With that I hear him hang up, leaving me more confused than I was earlier tonight.