Page 2 of Furious
“Ten months.” Following her, he held up all his fingers, palms out. “You’re ten months younger than me, ma’am.”
She stopped, turning on him and stomping her foot. “Donotma’am me!”
“Okay, okay, sorry…” He waited until she was a flight ahead of him. “Ma’am.” It echoed for maximum impact.
“Jaxon!” She turned again, cutely furious. He wanted to ruffle her hair, but she’d probably push him down the stairs, so he dashed by her, heading toward the bass, which grew louder and louder as they descended. Once he got to the bottom, he waited by the doorway, and since they could barely hear each other, Mae gave him a look that could melt steel, brushing past him down the hall.
Smirking, he followed, both of them turning a corner. Stopping in front of the second door, Mae opened it, and it was like they’d stepped through a portal into a club. A giant platform sat at the back of the room, surrounded by speakers, and the DJ sat atop it, hands flying over their decks. Even though it was early, the floor was already packed, and strobing lights stilled the dancers in multicolored heartbeats.
Stepping inside, he jerked as an electric jolt of pain shot down his leg, the music drowning out his grunt. He didn’t know if he’d done something at the gym or while dancing, but this injury had been coming and going forthe last month, persisting through stretches, heat, and ice.
And it would have to work itself out because he was not missing this moment.
“Lemme introduce you.” Mae swept her hand toward the DJ, and Jax nodded, straightening his posture and smoothing the sides of his hair. He got halfway there before another jolt ripped through the center of the limb, this one setting his nerves on fire, and he cringed, stopping in his tracks.
“Do you have any Tylenol?” he shouted at Mae, who stared at him, one of her flawless eyebrows raised in concern.
“I have to see,” she yelled back as they detoured to a corner with less sound. Fishing through her bag, she pulled out a pill organizer with the days of the week on it. “You probably shouldn’t take Tylenol if you’re going to drink, it’s bad for your liver.” She popped open the Tuesday lid, holding a round, white pill between her fingers. “Here, this is just as good.”
He shook his head.
“I don’t think so. The last time I took something from your stash, I was manually breathing for hours.”
“What is this, high school?” She rolled her eyes. “I thought you wanted to party.”
“Yeah, and my mouth is still dry from yesterday. I need to be cool when you introduce me, not drooling and unable to form complete sentences.”
“I guess it’s amateur hour.” She tossed the pill into her mouth instead, swallowing it. “Do you want me to ask around? I can probably find you something.”
“I’m good.” He gestured toward the DJ booth. “I’ll do a few shotsafterI meet her.”
“Me too!” Mae led him over, and the night immediately went from wild to legendary. Not only did he manage to sound coherent and cool while talking with the DJ, but she also let him hang in the booth for a lot of her set, and he lost his ego to the beat, letting himself be free for one last time before graduation, forgetting about school, money, his leg, and life outside the warehouse.
It was late morning when he finally stumbled home, full of joy and waffles from the diner, where he and Mae had stopped for their post-party review. He didn’t know if it was the shots, the joint he smoked, or theadrenaline from meeting one of his heroes, but his leg had stopped bothering him early on in the night, shutting off like a switch. It had probably given up trying to get his attention, and now his back just ached, along with the rest of him, but it was a good kind of pain because he felt sweaty, glorious, and alive.
It took him several tries to get his key in the lock, and once he did, he left a trail of clothes all the way to the bathroom. Taking another steaming-hot shower, he quickly fell into bed, his eyelids shutting before he even hit the pillow, and he smiled as he drifted off.
Tonight was one for the record books. He was definitely walking away on a high note.
And he was being ridiculous. He was acting like his life was ending when he was simply taking a break. In a few months, he’d be back on the dance floor; he just needed to push through and ace his classes.
When he opened his eyes again, the angle of the sun told him that it was late afternoon, and his bladder told him that he needed to pee. Smacking his lips to get some moisture in his mouth, he tried to turn his body, but it didn’t listen.
With a huff, he made another attempt, and that’s when he flooded with pain and panic.
Because his legs didn’t move at all.
1
JAX
FOUR YEARS LATER
Jax hated his life.
Gritting his teeth, he shifted his stance, leaning against the wall. Most people thought that having a back problem meant that he needed a soft and pillowy chair, but firmer seats were better for him, so the cushioned monstrosities in the waiting room were out. An orthopedist should have more than one option, and the lack showed that this doctor had never been in his patients’ shoes.
It made Jax want to turn around and leave, but he’d waited five months for this appointment, so he should see it through.
