Page 48 of Masked Instincts

Jax blinks at me. “Yeah, he is, and every day you bring him out. Even if you’re suffering makes you incapable of living, you bring him out. Luna, baby, you make me a better man without trying. I want to be someone good for you, someone you deserve.”

I swallow. I don’t want to cry. Enough tears have been shed over these last several months.

“Just take some time. I hope you’ll wake up soon,” Jax whispers as he begins to clean up the mess.

twenty-seven

LUNA

There’s a weight lifted off my shoulders from graduation being over. It’s been another two weeks since I’ve been out of school, but my mind still hasn’t changed. I don’t want to do anything. I just woke up and saw that Jax wasn’t in bed. I walk out to the living room, where the scent of cinnamon and butter fills my nostrils.

“What are you making?” I question.

“Well, I’m attempting to make French Toast,” Jax responds with a slight chuckle.

“How’s that going?”

“I keep burning it. No matter how long I leave it on the pan, it burns,” he explains. I walk over to him and look at the stove.

“You have the heat on high! Of course, it’s going to burn,” I laugh.

“Oh,” he says softly before laughing harder. “I never would have thought to check that.”

“My God, you’re going to burn the house down.”

I take over making breakfast while teaching Jax how to make it. We both stuff our faces with three pieces each and a side of bacon. That much he did right. He made it in the oven, and I feel it may be hard to fuck that up.

“What are you going to do today?”

“Probably watch something or read a book.”

“Again?”

“Yup,” I say as I pop the P, stuffing the last bite of bacon into my mouth.

“No,” he says. It’s the first time he’s said it to me when I answer his question. Every day, he asks what my plans are. The answer never changes.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re going to get up and look for a job today.”

“I don’t really-”

“Enough, Luna. You are going to take a shower, get dressed, and go out. Use your fucking degree that you fought for, do you hear me? You have the means to go out and live a life. You’re here and physically okay. Go live a life that you’re allowed to live,” he snaps. I don’t think he’s necessarily angry with me. I think he’s jealous.

I think that he’s angry that he can’t go out and work like normal. That he can’t support himself like he wants to. He’s been working the streets silently, selling drugs of sorts. Whatever pays the bills, right? There’s not a lot you can do when you’re a fugitive. I stare at Jax. His green eyes burn into my skin until it feels like I’ll explode from the flames.

“Fine,” I say. I’m not doing it for me but for him.

“Good. Now.”

I listen. I carry myself to the bathroom and turn the shower on. Sitting on the toilet, my head falls into my hands. I contemplate whether I should really do this. What if I can’t find a job? What if everyone sees right through me, like a glass window, of how broken I am?

“Get out of your head,” Jax says as he walks into the bathroom. Steam fills the room from the temperature of the shower.

I stare up at him. I wonder if he can see how empty I am inside. He walks over to me and grabs hold of my hand, pulling me up from my seat on the toilet. Jax works slowly to pull my clothes off, and I want to push him away. Wanting another person’s touch hasn’t come back to me yet. He’s been respectful, surprisingly, while he waits.

My shirt comes off, followed by my shorts and panties. Jax’s eyes run over my body and takes in every single inch as if he’s been missing it for his entire life. His clothes follow in pursuit.