Warning: Lots of cussing (& lots of emotions) in this chapter. You've been warned, brace yourselves! ;)
X
The temperature in the room is rising, or at least it feels that way to Tara when she can practically feel her cheeks turning red under his intense stare. This can't be happening.
Those eyes, those lips, that wink, and smirk, and to top it all off that goddamn tattoo ... it would be her undoing sooner or later. But if she doesn't get her act together fast, here and now, it would be much sooner rather than later. Too soon.
She feels like putty in his hands when he looks at her like this, with that tempting smile that reaches his baby-blue eyes. Those eyes that are giving her that look, speaking volumes without ever uttering a single word, so clearly longing for her. So clearly in love with her.
She still loves him too, so much.
And of course, she is attracted to him. What woman wouldn't be? She honestly can't remember a time when she hasn't been. Even at their worst, in the heat of an argument, he can manage to ignite a desire in her that she's never felt with anyone else.
Shit!
"I have to pee." Tara's excuse isn't graceful, nor is the way she rather hurriedly tries to slip out of bed. It is only half a lie, she needs to use the bathroom, but she also needs to get away from him for a few moments. In order to think straight.
But after barely eating anything all day, combined with the drinks she had in a rather short amount of time, it is no surprise that she sways as soon as her bare feet hit the carpeted ground. Luckily, she catches her balance just in time, clinging onto the footboard, yet cursing at the fact that she's almost landed face-first on the floor. "Shit."
"Whoa, Babe," Jax says, sounding concerned, and hurries around the bed to her side in a split second. She tries to brush him off, holding her hand up to signal for him to back off, and that she doesn't need any help. She doesn't need him any closer.
"I'm fine." She half giggles, she can't help it. She really should've stopped drinking earlier. "Really, I'm fine." She repeats once more, straightening her spine to show that she can stand at full height. Yet looks thoroughly embarrassed, when she takes a few unsteady steps, completely contradicting her own words. If this had been a sobriety test, she would've failed miserably.
Not waiting for her to actually fall, he quickly steps up behind her, and reaches out for her. One of his hands on each hip to steady her, smiling himself now.
"Sure you are." He says sarcastically, but at the same time, his fingers slip under the hem of her tank top, wrapping around the bare skin of her waist there. Leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path.
Tara has no doubt that he knows exactly what he is doing to her, when he tugs on her, and pulls her closer against him, and the growing bulge in his sweatpants, that's bumping into her backside with every step they take. What is merely a few feet, and should've taken a matter of seconds, somehow feels much longer in her buzzed state of mind.
Tara dares to glare at him over her shoulder for a fraction of a second, or at least she thinks she glared but it is hard to be sure by the way he returns the look with yet another smirk, as they finally reach the bathroom door. "Need me to come in and ... help out?" He whispers against her ear.
Asshole!
She hates when he gets this cocky, so full of himself, but what she hates, even more, is the fact that she can't help but smirk at the moment, thankful that he can't see it. If her cheeks weren't red before, they sure as hell are now, no doubt.
"Thanks, I can take it from here." She says, without looking back at him, and disappears inside the en-suite. She closes the door as quickly as she can, right in Jax's amused face. Secretly grateful that her legs decided to cooperate again just in the nick of time, her fingers reach for the doorknob, and lock the door behind her with a twist of her wrist.
She stands still for a long moment, leaning back against the door, and closes her eyes, hoping it might stop the room around her from swaying.
Then dares the few steps over to the toilet. Quickly sits and relieves herself, before sitting back down on the closed toilet lid.
She needs to get her act together. She needs to think straight, somehow trying to get all her thoughts and feelings in the right order again.
She stumbles over to the sink, and props herself up on her elbows for a moment as she washes her hands much longer than needed. Then she rises to full height, propping herself up on her hands this time, to take a long hard look in the mirror. The slightly glazed-over eyes, the deep red cheeks ... shit, there is no denying it, she is drunk, or at the very least, she's very, very tipsy already.
Drunk and alone with Jackson, in a motel room of all places. She fears once more this night could potentially end in a disaster. Doing something she'd undoubtedly regret in the morning light.
She reaches for one of her hair ties in her makeup bag, and pulls her hair back in a loose ponytail.
Tara turns the water to cold and begins splashing her face a few times. Slowly, deliberately and repeatedly, hoping that will help a bit to sober up, before she glances at her reflection once more. She stares at her glistening face, pushing back the strands of wet hair that came loose and stuck unsightly to her forehead and down her temple.
Further examining her reflection for a long moment, willing herself to be smart, ... and willing herself to not drink any more tonight. She's clearly had more than enough.
After a few more splashes of cold water to her face, she reaches for a towel and pads her face dry. She knows she can't hide in here forever. And how pathetic is it that she feels the need to hide at all ... from her husband, of all people.
But if she is being honest with herself, at this very moment, she doesn't just want to hide, she wants to bolt. Hightail it out of there to not get seduced by the old familiar hold he has on her. It is easier to feel the way she feels about him from afar.
'The minute someone makes you feel uncomfortable, tests your loyalty, little Tara packs her bags and hits the road.'
Whenever she thinks about running, his words from years ago come back to haunt her. Taunting her. And inadvertently a little voice will pop inside her head, 'If you do this, you're proving him right.'
It is ridiculous, really. Because in all honesty, those words, his words, weren't even true when he spewed them at her in anger at the time. She doesn't always run. has she been pissed at times and walked out before their arguments would get out of hand? Sure, but she's only ever truly left him once back then, and if memory serves her right, he is as much to blame for that as she is.
She is better than this. Smarter than this. After everything she's been through, she is stronger than to let him intimidate her like this.
After one more look in the small mirror, and one more stern inner dialogue with herself, she's made a decision. She wouldn't let him get to her, it is as simple as that.
She turns, and slowly, with careful steps, returns back to the bedroom. Right into the lion's den.
"Are you okay?" Jax asks concerned, as she appears through the door, looking her over.
"Yeah." She nods, embarrassed, "I might've had a bit too much to drink." Tara confesses the obvious, as she takes deliberate steps back to her side of the bed. Pure willpower and sheer stubbornness kept her from tripping over her own two feet.
"You barely ate anything too," Jax adds, as he watches her like a hawk from his spot on the bed, ready to pounce should she start to stumble like she has before.
Tara slid back onto the bed, resuming her old seat across from him. "Yeah, that probably doesn't help." She agrees. "But I did eat a whole pint of ice cream by myself." She adds, as if that were some sort of consolation.
Jax chuckles at that, "Well, at least it won't hurt when it comes back up in the morning."
Tara shakes her head and frowns, "Don't even joke about that. I hate getting sick."
"I know." He says. "I remember."
"Maybe you should try to eat something other than junk. "He leans over and reaches for one of the shopping bags on his nightstand, and pulls out a sandwich. Just plain white bread with ham and cheese. The kind you can find at any given gas station or convenience store.
Tara shakes her head, "I don't know."
But he has already ripped the plastic-wrapped sandwich open and holds one half of it out to her, "Come on, Babe. The bread will help soak up some of that alcohol."
Tara gives him a weak smile and reluctantly takes the sandwich from him. More to appease him than anything else. She examines it for a long moment, but then slowly picks little pieces off of it and begins to eat. "You know that's a myth, right?" She says, and looks up at him, not surprised that he's already eaten most of his half with just a couple of bites.
"What is?" Jax asks curiously, before he shoves the last piece of his sandwich in his mouth, and wipes some remaining crumbs from his beard with the tips of his fingers.
"The whole bread-soaks-up-alcohol thing." She replies, before she takes her first actual bite. "It's totally made up."
"Really?" Jax looks surprised, and pulls the second sandwich from the bag and opens it.
"Yeah, really,." Tara says and smiles at the cheeky expression on his face.
"You learn that in your fancy medical school?" He asks, winking at her, and begins to eat some more.
She actually has to chuckle at that, and nods, "Somethin' like that."
X
They continue to talk for a little while longer, prolonging the inevitable. They both should've been downright exhausted, but something is leaving them both restless, even though they know they need to settle down.
Jax glances at the alarm clock on her nightstand, it is already early Saturday morning. A few more hours and the sun would start coming up again.
"Maybe it's time we get some shut-eye, Babe. We still got a long day ahead of us tomorrow." Loading up his bikes, and making the long trip home with a trailer in tow. He pads the bed beside him, across from where she is sitting, wordlessly telling her to come on over.
Tara nods sweetly, but reluctance is written all over her face.
Jax can feel her hesitation, or maybe he can see the sense of panic in her eyes, and tries to soothe her nerves. "I promise I'll behave."
That actually brings a shy smile to her face, and she can't resist. "I've heard that before, Teller."
A small chuckle escapes his throat at that. He pulls back the blanket and the sheet, and settles beneath them himself. He watches her, out of the corner of his eye, moving her pillows back to the other side, his side, and settles into bed beside him, leaving a glaringly obvious gap between them.
Jax reaches for the table lamp beside him, switches the light off, and turns back over to face Tara, who in turn is facing him as well.
It takes a few moments, and blinking his eyes a few times until they have adjusted to the darkness of the room, letting Tara's face fully come into view again. To his surprise she has her eyes open too, watching him just the same, and they both can't help but smile when they realize it.
She knows spent a night in the same bed with him not too long ago, but she's been too drunk to remember much, if anything, about it. But now, lying here, she suddenly doesn't feel drunk anymore, or maybe it is just her mind playing tricks on her.
"This is weird." Tara suddenly admits.
"It shouldn't be though." Jax replies and dares to reach out to her, gently brushing a brown soft strand of hair, that threatens to fall in her face, back behind her ear.
Goosebumps form instantly, traveling down her spine at the slight touch of his hand, which is now lingering on her cheek. Her body is betraying her in the worst way, longing for his touch, longing for him. But she has to be smarter than that. Despite the laughs they shared tonight, there were plenty of tears earlier too, making it painfully obvious that their relationship isn't really where it needs to be yet.
She reaches up, covers his hand with her own, and holds his stare in the darkness for a long silent moment, wishing momentarily she could read his mind. And then is instantly glad that she can't.
She hates this. This never-ending push and pull she feels toward him.
She hates how she feels for him. Hates how he makes her feel. Hates how he makes her want him in spite of everything else.
But also hates how he can bring out the worst in her, how she's acted earlier today. Hates and is ashamed for what she did to Colette. And yes, she hates Colette too, but she knows deep down inside that all that anger that she's directed at the Madame should've been directed at someone else entirely. Him!
He is the cheater here, using one woman to hurt the other.
Maybe this is what is holding her back? Holding them back?
She's told him time and again how much he's hurt her. How she isn't sure she can ever trust him again. How she still has doubts he can keep his word and remain faithful to her in the future.
But has she ever told him how humiliated she felt in front of everyone? His brothers, the whores, and Gemma? And how unimaginably angry he made her?
"I shouldn't have hit her." She suddenly says, her voice almost a whisper, but her heart is beating wildly and loudly in her chest.
This is not at all where he'd hoped this conversation might lead. "Babe, please let's not -"
She cut him off, "I have to say this, Jax." She huffs and suddenly props herself up, sitting up again. She turns on the table lamp beside her, and turns toward him some more.
Jax takes the hint and quickly sits up too. He is frowning now, because the last thing he wants is to have another fight or conversation about what had gone down with Colette a few hours ago, but he also knows he doesn't really have a choice in the matter.
"I know I shouldn't have." Tara shakes her head to emphasize the words. "It's just when I saw her ... that image of you with her popped back into my mind and I got so angry, at her, but mostly at you."
Jax averts his eyes and sighs audibly, running a hand over his face in frustration. If this isn't a mood killer, he doesn't know what is. And here he thought they made progress today, but apparently, it isn't so. He regrets every second he's ever spent with Colette and he would undo it without hesitation if he only could, but his hands are tied. This isn't some SyFy movie. He can't go back in time and fix it. There's nothing he can do.
Hell, if there was, he'd be nineteen again, and every inch of Tara's dad's old car would be packed with everything they owned. They'd be together, and on their way to San Diego, with a much brighter future ahead of them. But life is cruel, and do-overs of time-traveling proportions are merely a thing in books, on TV, or on the big screen. Here, in the real world, he has no choice but to suffer through the consequences of his actions.
He knows that she might never forget what he's done, but he is hopeful that she'll forgive him one day, and they'll be able to really move on from his past mistakes. She simply has to, there is no other way.
Tara rambling on brings him back to reality, "It's just when she said those things, I let all that pent-up anger out on her. Don't get me wrong, I hate her ... so much, but she doesn't deserve what I did to her, because honestly, it's you who I should be angry with. It's you who's to blame."
Jax looks up then, meets her eyes, and gives her a sad smile, because truer words have never been spoken. He is at fault, and fuck does he know it too. "I know, Babe. I know." He single-handedly destroyed everything they had, everything they once were. Just like Clay done with Gemma!
His admittance of fault comes too easily, and unexpectedly, that momentarily she doesn't even know how to respond to that. She had braced herself for a fight, an argument, another long speech of love declarations and regrets, but not this ... not his defeat. So she stares at him in disbelief, with her heart beating out of her chest, unable to find the words now to voice what she is thinking and feeling.
Jax looks away then, running a hand down his weary face, deep in thought. He has no earthly idea how he can ever fix all the things he's broken between them.
Since the moment he found her barely breathing in their kitchen, he's been trying to choose the right path. Choose differently in hopes to turn this thing -their failing marriage- around somehow, getting them away from all the shit that weighs so heavily on him, on them. The things that were trying to tear them apart, and away from one another, trying to kill them.
But after all that, after everything he's done, is he really any closer to getting her back? Really getting her back, not just the bits and pieces she allows him access to, but all of her?
Can she ever truly forgive him if she continues to hold onto that anger she is talking about? That rage, he's seen it too, feels it, brewing just beneath the surface, well concealed when she is with their boys, and tucked away these days for his benefit too, behind smiles and warm embraces while playing house, but brewing just the same.
He knows all too well what that looks like, feels like. It took everything in him to not slit Clay's throat that day in the hospital. After he'd found out that Clay killed JT, after he'd tried to have Tara killed, and after he'd killed Piney. After all that, Jax felt it every day he had to calmly sit across from the old man at the reaper table. And the longer he had to keep the pretense up, the more that boiling-hot hatred festered within him. Looking back now, he really has no remorse for killing the man who helped raise him into a man. His only regret is that he hadn't done it sooner.
The crimes Jax has committed against her, the breaking of his wedding vows at the very top of that list, seem marginal at best in the grand scheme of everything that has happened to them. But they weren't marginal to her ... he knows to her, they meant everything.
She's stoically dealt with the gun running, the porn, and eventually even the drugs, and prostitutes. Always on alert, always on call, patching up his brothers at all hours, day or night. She's carried a gun for protection, washed his blood-stained clothes without batting an eye, humiliated herself with Otto, all for the sake of SAMCRO, and all it got her, in the end, is a fucked up hand, a possible stint in prison, a cheating husband and a knife in the back of her skull. Tara has suffered, so much!
He dares a glance in her direction, meeting her eyes with the same curiosity as the day he appeared on her doorstep. She has to let go of it, that anger, somehow. Preferably not with a bullet to his neck like he did to Clay, but she needs to somehow, someway, or their new relationship is ultimately doomed before it would ever really start. "Maybe you just need to get it out of your system."
"Get what out of my system?" Tara blinks, and stares at him in confusion, "What the hell are you talking about?
Jax slips out of bed, turns, and reaches for her hand. "Come on." He isn't really sure what he is doing, but anything is better than this limbo they have found themselves in now. He needs to do something.
He gives her a look she can't decipher as he is tugging her along, but curiosity gets the better of her, and she allows him to pull her out of bed with him. But before she comes fully to a stand, she searches his face for an explanation. "Jax, what is this? What are we doing?"
He steps right in front of her then, his voice stern and demanding, when he says, "Hit me." In his mind, it seems like the most logical thing to do. Allowing her to have a go at him. Really let him have it for all the fucked up shit he's done!
Tara smiles, awkwardly, because this has to be some sort of a sick joke. "This isn't funny." She turns back toward the bed, but he grabs her by her shoulders, forcing her to stand face-to-face with him again.
"Come on, Babe. Just hit me, get it out of your system." He practically demands of her, not a trace of humor in his voice or eyes. He is serious!
"I'm not gonna hit you." She replies irritated, almost angrily, rubbing her shoulder where he grabbed her just a little too hard. But there she stands, dumbstruck and confused in equal measure, folding her arms in front of herself. Is he losing his goddamn mind once and for all now?
"Are you crazy?" She can't stop the question from slipping out. "I'm not gonna hit you." She repeats again for good measure, then adds. "You're being ridiculous."
Jax throws his hands up in frustration, "You got a fuckin' better idea? 'Cause I sure as shit don't."
She scoffs, "Better than this? Anything's better than beating each other up. Have you lost your goddamn mind?" She looks at him, suspiciously.
"I said you should hit me. I wasn't gonna hit you back." Jax feels the need to clarify in case there is any confusion on the matter on her part.
"So it's just me beating up on you?" Tara scoffs again, shaking her head at him. He is crazy! "What the fuck is this? Some fifty-shades-of-grey thing? You're getting some sick and twisted pleasure out of this?"
Jax doesn't understand the reference, and he honestly doesn't give a shit at the moment. "You're pissed at me! You said so yourself. I'm the one to blame for everything!"
She turns her head away from him with a purpose, and avoids meeting his eyes. What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he so hell-bent on pushing her buttons?
"I'm the one who fucked everything up for us. I kept things from you. Kept you at arm's length." He starts, his voice holding frustration and urgency in it. "You were terrified about going to prison, about what would happen to the boys, but I just brushed you and your concerns off, too busy with SAMCRO to give you the time of day, give you the help that you needed."
This is supposed to rile her up, get her to let go of all this rage toward him she's got bottled up so deep inside, hidden all the way in the back, somewhere under all the hurt and pain she isn't so reluctant to share. But fuck, if it isn't gutting him just the same as he recalls all the ways he's failed her, failed them.
"Please stop." Tara pleads, her eyes downcast, and her whole body turned away from him now, avoiding his stare, and the way he hisses his ugly words in her direction. If his goal is to make her cry again, he is on the right path.
"And when the cops show up to pick you up, I just stand there, like some dumb fuck, letting it happen."
Tara's eyes begin to water, and she raises a hand to her face, as if that can somehow hide the way her chin begins to tremble. "Why are you doing this?" She cries, still not looking at him.
But Jax is not done just yet, because just tears wasn't what he is after. "And while you're stuck behind bars, I fuck the first thing that's willing and able."
At that Tara flinches and turns toward him, her eyes wet with tears but the look she gives him is ice cold, and suddenly she hurls herself forward, and pushes against him with both her hands flat against his chest. "Is this what you want?" There's hurt, pain, and venom in her voice as she hisses at him through clenched teeth. "Is it?"
Having anticipated her reaction, he barely even moves at first. Just stands there, solid as a rock. But it just infuriates her even more, and she pushes him a second time then, and this time it does take him off guard, and he actually staggers back a couple of steps. His face is a cold hard mask, indifference is what he's going for.
"I stick my dick into someone else, and that's the best you've got, darlin'?" He dares to mock her, but the look of disgust she throws at him lets him know he just crossed the line.
His words cut her like a knife, ripping something open inside of her, and it's like her body suddenly has a mind of its own, when she steps closer toward him again, and slaps him open-handed across the face with all the strength she can muster.
Jax actually looks shocked for a split second, which is ironic if you think of it. Wasn't this what he wanted? For her to lose her cool, lose control, and hit him. Congratulations, you've got your wish!
The palm of her hand stings sharply at first, then begins to throb in pain, and by the welt forming on his cheek, she has no doubt his face is hurting just the same. But it doesn't stop her, more the opposite. The way he just stands there, and stares at her as if he is a completely different person, it infuriates her even more and she pulls back and hits him a second time. "Is this what you want, you stupid son of a bitch?" She yells at him through tears, her face contorted in fury and pain, and she starts to sob. But she hits him again, with both hands now, taking turns, left and right. And he just stands there, not even trying to dodge her attack. But then she stops, hiding her face in her hands, and sobs uncontrollably.
The mask cracks at that, some emotions are beginning to shine through again behind cold blue eyes as she stands in front of him, her whole body shaking, sobbing out loud. What the fuck has he done?
But before he can even begin to sort his own fucked up feelings out, she pounces on him again. But this time she hits him square in the chest. Her small curled-up fists not really doing a whole lot of damage as she goes to town on him. Drumming them against him in utter frustration, his chest as her own personal punching back, and he knows he deserves every last jab she's dishing out for all the ugly truth he's spewed at her.
The jabs die down, and her sobs get louder, and he finally lets his facade slip completely from his face as he pulls her forcefully into him. She struggles against him at first, but then she breaks down, and sobs into his chest uncontrollably.
She seems more fragile, and smaller the way she curls into him, he can't help but think as he rests his chin on her head for a moment, wishing for the millionth time he would've made different choices all those many months ago, all those years ago. He could've saved both of them a lot of pain and suffering.
But then she suddenly pulls away, wiping angrily at her face, and before he knows what's happening she makes a mad dash toward the door. And he hadn't counted on that.
Swift fingers unlock the deadbolt, but he catches up with her just as she pulls the door open.
He wraps his arms around her from behind, pulling her back into his chest.
She struggles against him, twisting and turning, trying to elbow her way out of his embrace. "Let go of me, Jax." She manages to hiss at him between more sobs.
"Tara." He's pleading with her now, still behind her. "For Christ's sake, would you stop fighting me?" He kicks the door back shut with his foot, the loud bang is sure to wake their neighbors, if their fighting hasn't done so already.
She's not having any of it, and he's not letting up either. Their fight for dominance would almost be comical if it wasn't for the tears in her eyes, and the pain and regret in his.
He finally had enough, he doesn't want to hurt her -least of all, physically- but he's at his wit's end. So he's grabbing each of her wrists and forcefully crosses her arms over her chest in the shape of an X, and tugging her back into him as hard as he can. "Babe, I'm sorry."
"Piece of shit!" Is all she manages to say, furious that he dares to hold her hostage like this now. Who the fuck does he think he is?
"I am, you're right." He breathes into her ear. She's not making this easy on him as she continues to fight against him. He just needs her to calm down, he'll just have to hold her until she does. Sooner or later she has to realize she doesn't stand a fighting chance against the death grip he has on her wrists and would give up. "But you need to calm down." She has to.
He looks over his shoulder, taking a few steps back, dragging her along with him, and not leaving her any choice in the matter. He plops down to the ground then, his ass hitting the floor with a thud and a grunt, with no free hand to break the fall. He's pulled her down with him, and settles with his back against the footboard of the bed. His lips near her temple, and he has to fight the urge to kiss her. He shifts, and moves, until her ass is settled on the ground between his legs now, while he's still holding her tightly against him. A short moment of peace!
She stills her efforts then, and he realizes that she's no longer crying either. And just when he thinks she is calming down, and giving in, she bends her legs at the knee, digging her bare heels into the carpet as hard as she can, before she gives it her all. With an unladylike grunt, she pushes her back into his chest with a jolt that makes the bed behind him shake. The headboard bangs against the wall. It knocks the wind right out of him, but to her dismay, not long enough for him to let up on her.
Jesus Christ, what she lags in upper body strength, she sure as shit makes up for with her legs. If he wasn't the one on the receiving end of her struggling, he'd be proud of her.
"Let go of me." She demands, she's mad, and so frustrated that all her efforts against him seem so goddamn fruitless.
"I can't," Jax replies, his voice leaving no room for doubt. No way in hell can he let her leave now, not after all this!
"What the hell is this?" Tara shakes her head not understanding what happened, and how they ended up here. One minute they were in bed, having a moment, or so she thought, and then this!? "Just a few hours ago you said you could never hurt me." She recalls his words.
"I'm not hurting you. I'm just restraining you." He has the nerve to say. He knows his grip on her wrists is tight, but not tight enough that he'll leave a bruise. He wouldn't do that.
"Physically, not, but ..." Tara tries to hold back the fresh tears that are forming in her eyes. "Why the hell did you do this to me?"
An open-ended question if he's ever heard one. There are way too many things he's done to her to even know where to start, but he's fairly certain that she was not talking about his crimes of the past for once, but about this, what he is doing right now, right here.
But then again, where to begin with this? He's clearing his throat which suddenly seems too tight to breathe, let alone talk, or plead with her. "Because I need you to stop hating me, Babe." He stops then, foolishly giving her a moment to interject, wants her to deny it, and tell him he's crazy, that she doesn't hate him.
And Tara knows it too, knows what he's doing. She doesn't hate him, not even when he deserved it, like right now. But she is furious with him, and if he honestly thinks for one minute that she's in the mood to console him, then he truly is crazy after all.
"So if letting some of that anger out on me helps you do that, then I'll gladly let you have another go at me. We can go for round two right now, if you want?" He's seen it work, time and again. When his brothers have issues with each other, they just duke it out. Quite literally, right there in the ring, next to the Clubhouse. So he knows his idea isn't all that farfetched.
He's met with deafening silence from her. He waits, expecting her to join in on this conversation he's trying to have, but nothing.
She's not actively trying to pull away from him anymore, but her muscles are still stiff under his skin, shoulders square and rigid. She's on guard, in case a chance presents itself to break free.
He tries to backpedal in a way, wants her to really understand, "You know all that shit I said, I was just trying to rile you up. Piss you off, trying to get you to let go."
At that, she snorts, "Well, you succeeded."
It's not what he wants her to say, but it's a start. At least she's talking.
"If you hold on to that anger toward me, if you can't let it go and forgive me, we don't stand a chance in hell." He doesn't know what else to say, or rather how to say it. He knows what he means, knows that in his head it all makes sense, but can't find the words. They all get scrambled somehow before they make it to his tongue, and he can't form a sentence that even remotely conveys what he wants it to.
"I am letting go of that anger. But it's not one-size-fits-all. Just because this caveman mentality has worked for you, doesn't mean it'll work for me. There are other ways to deal with things, Jax." She suddenly answers, her voice a bit calmer again, her words eloquent, as if she actually listened, and at the very least tried to understand why he just did what he did.
"Like your way, which is not dealing with shit at all. Just shoving it all under a rug." He replies, mocking her once more.
He's infuriating, with his self-righteousness, accusing her of hiding from her issues. All the while he's the proverbial poster child of compartmentalizing. She isn't like him in that way, at least not anymore, because it has never worked out for her in the past.
"You know I've been talking to a therapist. I'm dealing with it, but I'm doing it in my own way. But after everything I've been through, it's not going to happen overnight. I'm sorry if I'm not bouncing back as fast as you want me to."
He hears her, truly hears her, but he can't help that he's selfish and downright impatient when it comes to her. Doesn't want to wait until some goddamn shrink is done psychoanalyzing her. He just wants her back, wholeheartedly, all of her, now and forever.
There's a long pregnant pause until he finally gets a grip. It's not quite a speech, but it's the gist of it.
"Since the day you almost died, I've been bending over backward for you. Trying to see things your way, trying to do them your way. Believed that you would pull through, and come out of that coma, whole. Cut Gemma out, and anyone else that dared to even suggest you might not. Losing you simply wasn't an option, Babe. I wouldn't let it happen." He starts to explain where he is coming from. He doesn't know any other way to get through to her.
"But here I am now. In this constant state of limbo. This fucking holding pattern of will-she-or-won't-she let me back in. Will she forgive me? I know I hurt you, so much." He moves his lips closer to her ear, strands of her hair tickling his nose. His voice softer now, reassuring her, "I would never hurt you like that again. Never. But Babe, how long are you gonna keep punishing me? How long do you want me to keep punishing myself for things that I can't change? I made mistakes. I wish I could take them back. I'm sorry. And I know that you can't forget what happened, but I hope you can forgive me. You have to forgive me." His voice breaks on the last few words, filled with regret and pain and truth.
Tara takes a deep breath and lets her head fall back against his shoulder. Her eyes closed, fighting back tears too. And Jax is so relieved when he feels her whole body finally relax against him. The tension leaves her arms and so does the grip he has on her. Letting go of her wrists, he snakes his arms around her torso instead, tugging on her, wanting her even closer. The constant struggle of never getting her close enough. He'd pull her under his skin if he only could.
Tara's soft hands encircling his brings a feeling of calmness back to him again. Reluctantly he loosens his hold on her just long enough to brush her hair off of her shoulder, bowing his head, placing soft sweet kisses from her shoulder to the crook of her neck. Loving the way she squirms for a second when he lets his lips linger on a sensitive spot.
Doesn't she know how everything around him is meaningless without her? How any bed feels too big without her in it? How his skin feels too naked without her skin pressed against his?
How his sheer existence is meaningless without her? That if she died, he would die too.
"I love you so much." A whisper in her ear.
She twists in his arms, turns toward him, and cranes her neck looking back at him. "I love you too." She answers, meeting his eyes for the first time since she tried to run away from him.
They hold each other's gaze for a long moment, when Tara further turns in his arms, enough that she can reach up, pushing his disheveled hair out of his eyes, framing his face with her hands, and tracing his cheeks that are still red from where she's hit him. And a flicker of regret crosses her soft features.
But before she can say or do anything else, Jax speaks up instead, "You have to forgive me, Tara." His look is unwavering, pleading with her to give him a sign, he'd take anything at this point, a measly tiny crumb of hope that he stands a fighting chance to really be let back in.
She frowns, fighting back tears that threaten to spill.
He frowns too, looking away from her now, his voice heavy with tears of his own, and he repeats, "You have to forgive me." It is the crux of it all. Her ability to forgive him.
Then the tears spill, his and hers, she lets them fall, while he wipes angrily at his eyes. Two sides of the same coin.
Man up, you pussy!- His inner voice holds no punches.
Tara looks at him then through teary eyes, reaching up, trying to get him to look back at her again, when a loud hard knock at their door interrupts them, startling her.
They look at each other, jostled out of the moment they were having, both wiping the tears from their faces.
Another hard knock, unrelenting.
They both get up then, Tara folding her arms in front of herself, watching Jax curiously peeking through the hole in the door, trying to see who it is at this time of night.
Some guy and a girl, the magnifying glass of the peephole oddly distorting their features, but either way, he doesn't recognize either of them. He looks back at her, shrugging his shoulders, and opens the door.
"Can I help you?" Jax asks, looking from the guy to the girl. He's a mountain of a man, towering over Jax by at least half a foot, long dark beard, muscles, and tattoos, the epiphany of a lumberjack. But she's the opposite, a little thing, petite, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, nothing to her, just skin and bones, he could tell, even with a blanket tightly wrapped around her.
The look the couple exchanges is subtle, but he catches it nonetheless. And the guy clears his throat, looking back at Jax again, "We just want to make sure everything is alright in here."
Jax gives them a look of confusion.
"We heard some fighting." The guy further explains, "Some yellin' and screamin'."
"We're fine." Jax supplies without missing a beat, frowning that someone bore witness to him and her hashing it out like that. Not really embarrassed, more ticked off. "Everything's fine." He's curt with them, because he just wants them to leave already.
But now the woman pipes up, her voice equally small, matching her figure, "Is she fine though?" She asks. "I wanna make sure she's fine."
He's downright annoyed now and considers slamming the door in their nosy, judgmental faces, but then Tara appears by his side, pulling the door further open so they can see her.
"I'm here. I'm fine." She nods at them appreciatively, her hand reaching for Jax's forearm, sensing he's about to lose his cool.
She can see the lingering doubt in the eyes of the couple before them, so she lays it on a little thicker. "Really, I'm fine." She wraps her arm around Jax's biceps now, giving him a loving look before turning her attention back to them. "We just had a stupid fight. We made up. Everything's fine."
The couple exchanges another look, not entirely convinced, but realizing there isn't a whole lot they can do.
"Alright then." Jax huffs in annoyance, impatiently starting to close the door in their faces.
The guy turns away, ready to leave, but the woman steps closer, her hand on the door, keeping Jax from closing it. She ignores him, and acts as if he isn't even there, her eyes on Tara alone. "Listen, honey, if you get in another fight, we're right next door right here, room eight." She points a finger to her left, "You don't have to stay with him."
And with that, she throws Jax one last assessing look, before she turns on her heel, and catches up with her man.
Jax shuts the door, looking all kinds of pissed off, pouting even. He's been looked down on his whole life, but being accused of this, battering his woman, his wife, so blatantly right in his face by some nosy do-gooders really rubbed him the wrong way.
Tara can see the expression on his face, and as much as she tries, she can't stop herself from smiling, covering her mouth, and trying not to laugh at him.
"You think this is funny?" Jax tries to sound offended, but it's hard for him to keep a straight face when she's enjoying herself so thoroughly at his expense.
"Well, you kinda deserved it. Those mean things you said." She shrugs her shoulders at him, a weak smile still on her lips, "Karma is a bitch."
He advances on her, wrapping his arms around her, and presses a kiss on her forehead, but he doesn't utter a reply. He knows she's right. He has been loud and mean and ugly. He deserves a whole lot more than just some suspicious looks.
A long moment passes, as they just stand there, holding each other close. He doesn't want to let go, and neither does she. A moment of solace, the quiet peace after the storm.
"I'm trying, Jax." Tara suddenly mumbles against his chest, before raising her eyes to meet his. "I'm really trying." She repeats.
He doesn't have to ask what she's talking about. He knows. Knows she's picking up right where they left off, with his plea for her to forgive him.
"I know, Babe. I know you are." He mumbles against her skin, before kissing her forehead once more, pulling her face back to him, tucked neatly under his chin.
X
Author's Note: This emotional rollercoaster was incredibly hard to write, but I hope you enjoyed it, and don't find it too OOC. Please leave me a few words. Thank you for reading. xoxo, Skater