“Can I ask you a question?” I ventured.

“What?”

“That night you drove Liam home …” I swallowed, smoothing my fingers over the bandage I’d fixed to his arm. “You said you had tattoos. Too many.” I repeated his words, my eyes fixated on his forearm. “What did you mean?” I pressed, because clearly Jax didn’t sport any tattoos. His statement hadn’t made any sense.

Even though I hadn’t looked at him, I noticed his head turn away as he inhaled a slow, deep breath. Kind of as though he was getting ready to dive deep underwater and knew he wouldn’t be up for air for a while.

“Sorry,” I said quietly, straightening up and crumpling the bandage wrappers in my fist. “I just … I don’t know …” I trailed off. “I just want to understand.”

I finally met his eyes, and he studied me silently. I didn’t know if he was trying to figure out what to tell me or if he wanted to tell me anything at all. Funny thing was, I’d thought about what Jax said that night a lot over the years, and while I was curious, it wasn’t until I’d overheard his conversation with Jared today that I knew it had something to do with his childhood.

And I realized that I didn’t know Jaxon Trent at all.

He rubbed his forearm and narrowed his eyes briefly before relaxing. “If you could get a tattoo, what would it be?”

I blinked, shocked by his question. “Um.” I laughed softly, thinking. “I thought about a set of angel wings, I guess. With one of the wings broken,” I admitted.

“It has something to do with your past?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“And it’s something you want to remember?” he pressed.

“Yes.”

“That’s why I don’t have any tattoos,” he concluded. “People get tattoos for all kinds of reasons, but they’re always badges of what has made them who they are. I don’t care to remember what and who made me this way. The people that gave me life. The people that brought me up …” He shook his head, defiant. “The places I’ve seen or anything I’ve done. It’s all in my head, anyway. I don’t want it on my body, too. I don’t care about anything that much.”

His sneer wasn’t for me, but I knew I’d hit a sensitive area. And I kind of understood where he was coming from. The scars were on the inside—still doing their damage—and he didn’t want reminders when he looked in the mirror.

Our friends had been lucky. Tate’s mother—although deceased—had loved her. Her dad? Always there for her. Hell, even Jared’s mom had turned out pretty awesome. And Shane’s parents were overbearing, but they were compassionate.

And I finally saw what connected Jaxon Trent and me. How very different our lives would’ve been without our neglectful parents. Or with different parents.

“No mothers, no fathers,” I whispered to myself.

“Huh?”

I blinked, shaking my head. “Nothing.”

I barely noticed it, but when my lungs started to burn, I realized I wasn’t breathing.

I took a deep breath and picked up the supplies, standing up. “Your brother is important to you, right?” I asked. “Jared, Madoc, Tate … Maybe someday you’ll see how lucky you really are or find something or someone you do care enough about.”

Maybe me, too, I thought as I walked to the cabinets, putting the materials away.

Nice and tidy, the way I had found them.

Light flashed through the room, and moments later I heard the thunder roll outside.

Shit. I still hadn’t called Shane.

I heard the cot creak behind me and knew Jax had stood up. “It’s raining,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride home. Come on.”

I turned to find him standing in the doorway, filling up the frame and slipping his gray T-shirt over his head, a tear and bloodstains visible on the material.

Jesus. I damn near gulped at the way his ab muscles flexed and the V underneath disappeared into his shorts. The shirt draped loosely over his stomach, but the dips and curves of his biceps took up every spare bit of space in his short sleeves. Tall, with just the right amount of muscle, he was perfect. And I’d bet every woman thought the same damn thing when she looked at him.

Sex.

I turned back to the cabinets, trying to slow my breathing and not think of Jax and me alone in a car.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” I shook my head. Yeah, hell to the no.

“That’s okay,” I mumbled with my back to him. “I’ll call Shane.”

“If you even think of putting your cousin on the road in this weather,” he threatened in a smooth, deep voice, “I may have to see what I can do to get you on your knees again today.”

My face fell, and my tongue went dry. Little shit.

“Don’t piss me off, K.C. I’ll be in front of the building in five minutes.”

And then he was gone.

Jax’s car used to be Jared’s. I’d seen it plenty over the years, and although it was older than Liam’s Camaro, it was definitely a hell of a lot tougher. Or maybe it just felt more solid. I don’t know. I remember being in Liam’s car, waiting at a stoplight and feeling as if the car’s engine was going to die or something. Just the way it puttered felt as though it was about to give out at any moment.

But, sitting in Jax’s black Mustang GT, I felt as if I were sitting in a turbo jet as solid as a bullet the way it glided effortlessly through the torrential downpour. Inside, the spotless black interior was dark and narrow, like being in a cave. Outside, the wind blew sheets of rain across the windshield. I had to squint to see, because the windshield wipers could barely keep up with the downpour.

But the car provided a haven from the rain pounding on the rooftop outside, and the spray under the tires was a distant echo.

Even though I was safe and warm, I couldn’t shake the nerves making the hair on my arms stand up. I clenched my skirt in my fists and looked at nothing out the window.

He was too close. And—I rubbed my fists down my warm thighs—he wasn’t close enough.

“Here.” Jax spoke up, startling me. He reached behind in the backseat and tossed me a towel. “It’s clean.”

Of course it was. Jax might get his hands dirty from time to time, but his clothes and his car—at least from what I’d seen on the outside—were always impeccably clean. Hell, even his house looked pristine when I’d been in there.

“Thanks,” I said as I caught it at my chest.

Something to do. Anything …

I reached down and brushed off the droplets of rain that had drenched my legs, and then slipped out of my flip-flops to pat my feet dry.

I hadn’t gotten completely soaked, and Jax had driven the car as close to the school as he could, but I still caught an onslaught of fat drops. My clothes were blotched with nickel-size circles, and some of my hair was sticking to my neck and shoulders.

Brushing up my thighs, I straightened my back against the seat and wiped the water off my bare arms.

But I was still shit out of luck.

He was watching me, and I could damn well feel it.

Turning around, I placed the towel in the backseat again and stilled when the grumbling of my stomach—evidence that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast—burst forth in the otherwise quiet car.

Shit. I twisted back around and fastened my seat belt, hoping he hadn’t heard it.

No such luck.

“Are you hungry?” Jax looked over at me. “I have some snacks if you want.”

“No, I’m fine,” I mumbled, not making eye contact.

But then my belly whirred again, and I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my stomach, melting into the seat.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he chuckled, and I opened my eyes to see him reaching behind the seat again and digging a container out of his duffel bag. “Eat,” he ordered, dumping a plastic Tupperware container in my lap.

I pursed my lips. Why did he have to sound so condescending all the time?

“I’m fine,” I said flatly, turning my glare out the window. “I’ll be home soon anyway.”

“So I can give you a ride home, but you won’t eat my food?”

My eyes widened, and I looked over at him. “You made me let you give me a ride home,” I pointed out, and then added quietly, “Which I appreciate. Of course.”

I shook my head, unable to keep the small smile from my lips.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll eat.”

And it took me no damn time to peel the lid off the container and smile at the watermelon chunks inside. Picking one out with my thumb and index finger, I joked. “Fruit?” I asked. “I’d never pictured you chopping watermelon, Jax.”

“But you pictured me,” he deadpanned, his cocky lips twisting up as he pulled the shifter down, powering ahead as if he knew everything.

I rolled my eyes, not even entertaining the idea of walking into that one any further. Sliding a piece of watermelon between my teeth, I bit the red cube in half, loving the grainy texture against my tongue. Sweet juice filled my mouth, and my stomach growled again, in appreciation.

Sucking the nectar to the back of my tongue, I swallowed and placed a hand over my mouth. “This is really good.” I nearly laughed, because I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. “Thanks.”