Wrecked (Dirty Air Series Book 3)

Time doesn’t heal heartbreak. It’s a stupid phrase meant to instill hope. In reality, moving on has yet to heal my heart. And God knows I’ve tried.

Every year it’s the same feeling. The despair overrides everything else in my life on the anniversary of my parents’ death. Responsibilities get put on the backburner while I spend the day mourning the life they should’ve had.

Elías left hours ago, making sure I was fed despite my resistance to his offerings all day.

I step out onto the balcony of the hotel. The Monaco racetrack is so close, I can see the lights from here.

I look up at the star-filled sky, tears pricking my eyes as I think of my parents. “When will it get easier? Every year I try to pretend it’s okay, but instead I end up avoiding everyone. I feel guilty I’m here while you both aren’t. Spending time with others on the anniversary…it reminds me of everything you both lost.” I whisper the words up to the sky. “I wish Papi was here to see me use English every day. I think he’d be proud of how little of an accent I have now. And sometimes I pretend Mami is here singing into my ear, telling me everything will turn out all right. I’d like to think she’d be fussing with Abuela about the lack of grandkids by now, too.”

I sound crazy, talking to myself. “God, sometimes I feel so lonely, even with Elías and Abuela. It’s not the same without you two.”

I sniffle as more tears fall. It’s stupid yet cathartic to get these words off my chest. I sob silently while staring up at the sky, thinking of my parents watching me from above.

Time escapes me. The sun slowly rises, basking the Monaco racetrack in a golden glow.

The sliding door to Jax’s room squeaks opens. I rush to return back to my suite, but Jax’s voice stops me.

“You don’t have to go inside because of me. If you want, you can pretend I’m not even here.”

I wipe my cheeks with my sweater, willing away any impending tears. “That’s impossible. Trust me, I’ve tried.” I keep my back toward him as I stare at my sliding door, wondering what to do.

“Are you openly flirting with me? Now I’m concerned you’re sick.”

The weakest smile known to humankind graces my lips. I turn around and take up a spot leaning against the handrail, facing the rising sun. “I’m fine.”

“Mum taught me whenever a woman says that she is fine, then she is definitely, under no circumstances, fine.”

I let out a soft laugh. “Your mom sounds great.” My chest burns at the idea of not having mine.

We stand in silence for minutes. I gather control of my raging emotions while Jax stares ahead. The sun continues its slow climb.

Jax remains facing forward. “Yesterday an interviewer asked me what makes me feel alive.”

I turn my head toward him. “What happened to you keeping silent so I can pretend you’re not here?”

“I thought you hated how much I kept to myself. Here I am being nice and offering you a few breadcrumbs.” His lip twitches.

“I was raised on rice being an essential part of my food pyramid. Breadcrumbs are for women on terrible diets.” I hide my smile behind the sleeve of my sweater.

His laugh fills me with a surge of warmth, replacing the cold dread I’ve felt for the past twenty-four hours. “Well, be happy with what I’m willing to offer you. So…anyway… The reporter asked me what makes me feel alive, and I answered racing.”

“Okay, I don’t know if I’m struggling to follow you because I haven’t had coffee yet or because that’s not surprising.”

“Maybe a little of both. Well, I lied. Kind of—about the racing at least. Sunrises make me feel alive.”

Does Jax sound nervous or is it me overanalyzing things? “Why?”

Jax stays silent for a solid minute. He has me hooked, waiting for his response. “Because it reminds me of how I get to live another day.”

“That’s shockingly deep of you.”

“Your turn. You tell me, Elena Gonzalez, what makes you feel alive?”

I pause. “My job?”

He imitates a buzzer sound, and a rush of laughter escapes me. It feels good to laugh carelessly, to ease the ache in my chest. “Try again. No way that’s what makes you feel alive. If so, we need to find you some hobbies.”

“Fine. Okay.” I chew on my lip as I think up my response. “It’s going to sound so stupid.”

“You’re speaking to the man who makes more stupid decisions in one week than you could during your entire existence. Try me.”

“Rain,” I blurt out.

“Rain?” His voice matches the disbelief on his face.

“I knew it sounded stupid,” I mumble under my breath.

He closes the distance between us. His hand softly grasps my chin as he forces me to look at him. “I didn’t say that. You’re doing a shitty job explaining yourself, no offense. And that says something, coming from me.”

My body becomes attuned to his presence. It feels like touching an electric socket, with a spark causing a jolt to my heart. “The rain makes me feel alive because it reminds me that life’s a cycle. Water falls from above to be sucked back up again by the clouds eventually—round and round. I love the storm clouds before the first drops fall. Love how the rain feels against my skin, and I love the way it smells. It’s so weird, but my favorite days are the gloomiest. And it teaches us how even the ugliest storms can lead to a rainbow at the end.”

Jax’s eyes stay glued to mine. The look in them—mystified and something else—scares me. I step away from his embrace, giving us both some distance.

“That was rather poetic.” He runs a hand through his curls. “You made my answer pale in comparison.”

My eyes watch the sun slowly creeping up into the sky. I don’t want our moment to end, a rare occasion with Jax sharing a part of himself. “Why did you come out here?”

“Truth?”

“No, tell me the lie.” The poor lighting hides my eye roll.

“I try my best to see every sunrise.”

My heart sinks. For some reason, I thought he came out here to see me. In reality, I encroached on his territory. “I didn’t know that. Thanks for letting me barge in on your morning ritual then.”

“The fact that you’re thanking me for sharing a space with you for ten minutes speaks to how much of a dick I really am.”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Then why not change? Why have you made it your mission to keep everyone emotionally distant from you?”

He sighs as he faces the handrail again. “Do you believe in fate?”

“Are you actually going to change the subject like that? You didn’t even answer my question.”

“Humor me.”

“Okay…” I think back to my parent’s death. To how fate played a part in taking them away while keeping me alive. But I also think back to other positive moments like Elías getting me a job in F1 or moving away from Mexico for university. “I mean, I wish I didn’t. It seems cruel to think some events are destined to happen like dying young, or sickness, or even trauma. But how else can we explain things that happen? I think people wouldn’t be able to cope with life if they didn’t believe things were meant to happen exactly how they were.”

“Yeah, I believe in fate too. How unfortunately everything happens for a reason, despite some people being too stubborn to accept it. Like you said, sickness, death, life. All of it is a part of the grand scheme of things whether we like it or not.”

“How does this connect to why you can’t be different with me, though?”

“It does.” He looks at me. His eyes darken as emotion floods his eyes, revealing sadness and regret. “Some people see their future in others. Someone they want to spend their life with because they can’t imagine going a day without them. But with you, I see nothing good. You wonder why I struggle to be around you, and that’s valid. It’s because while some are fated to become something great, we’re different. We’re fated from the start to fail. When I look at you, I’m reminded why God is a joke and life is one big ‘fuck you’ moment after another.”

Wow. The heaviness of his words presses against the already building ache inside of my chest. His words hint at a lot more than wanting a friendship, and I’m not sure how to cope with that.

“We can never be friends, can we?”

“No. Spending time around you, wanting more from you than a quick fuck—that’s the reason fate is cruel.”

I’m hit with another wave of sadness. My mouth opens to say something, anything really, but Jax’s hand cupping my face shocks me.

He turns my head gently, hitting me with a look of despair. “You’re the biggest ‘fuck you’ from fate. But it’s not because I dislike you. It’s because I’m terrified of what would happen if I stopped trying to avoid you.”

Mierda. “And what would happen if you do?” I don’t want to give up on asking him questions, not when he is finally opening up to me.

“Something tragic from the start.”

“That’s your perspective. What about mine?”

“Go ahead. Tell me what you think would happen if I stopped avoiding you.”

“Well, if you were able to control yourself more, I think you’d finally feel something in your life other than anger and sadness. Whether it’s from a friendship or a relationship, everyone deserves happiness, including you.”

Jax frowns, pulling his hand away from my face and placing it on the handrail. He turns his head toward the skyline. “Looks like our time has ended.”

“Jax, I mean it. Happiness isn’t something to fear.” I place my hand over his, heating the palm of my hand.

“I don’t fear happiness. It’s more like I fear the despair that comes afterward.”

Before I have the chance to ask him anything more, he places the softest kiss by the corner of my mouth. My skin hums with awareness as his lips linger on the spot.

I hate myself for leaning into him. Jax is addictive, proving to me how much I crave his lips against mine. The kiss in my apartment didn’t satisfy a craving—it created one. One I have no place experiencing in the first place, seeing as I asked him to focus on himself rather than something between us.

Jax steps away from me. “Learn to let go of whatever’s haunting you. You don’t want to become like me, ruining anything good in your life. Unfortunately, people like me don’t get a big happy ending. But you deserve it all. The dancing in the rain finale with some lovesick twat who can give you the best of him for the rest of your long lives.”

He walks back to his room, leaving me in a mess of my own emotions.

Jax Kingston stole a piece of my heart, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever get it back. And worse, I don’t know if I want it.