The scene
corresponds with chapter 36 of After The Ending, which was originally told from the perspective of our favorite feisty
redhead. What follows is Jason’s version of what happened when Dani found him
taking out his pent up aggression on a copse of cypress trees. We see inside
Jason’s head and catch of glimpse of his true feelings for Dani, including some
of the reasons why he has those
feelings. Enjoy!
~~~~~
Jason swung the ax for the dozenth
time, wishing his muscles burned more, ached more. He wrenched the ax’s blade
free from the trunk of a cypress tree and swung again, harder this time. He
wanted—no, craved—the pain of physical exertion. His goal was simple: eradicate
all thought. Usually it was easy for him to enter is preferred state of mental
and emotional numbness. Usually the walls went up easily. Usually she wasn’t around. But Dani had a knack
for obliterating his carefully constructed walls.
Pausing his relentless attack on the
tree, Jason propped the ax against the trunk and tugged off his T-shirt. He had
shed his jacket before he’d even started. He was sweaty and breathing hard, but
not nearly enough. More. He needed more. After quickly wiping his forehead with
the back of his wrist, he picked up the ax and resumed his work. Swing. Thunk.
Pull. Swing. Thunk. Pull. Again.
He couldn’t figure out why he was so
twisted . . . so messed up. Why her?
Why couldn’t he get her out of his head? Why had he done it—kissed her—when
doing so would only hurt her . . . and him, he admitted reluctantly. He swung
the ax again, appreciating the jarring motion as it’s blade lodged into the
tree trunk. Dani didn’t need him screwing with her already screwed-up life.
What she needed was for him to keep her safe, to make sure she didn’t do
anything stupid like running away again. She needed him to help her survive
this hell.
He’d been so good at keeping women
at a distance, ever since the accident. His
mom’s car accident. She’d been there one day, then gone the next. He’d never
loved anyone so much, and had since refused to let himself ever feel that way
again. He refused to make himself weak, vulnerable, because eventually whoever
he loved would leave. He refused to feel that pain again. Instead, he swung the
ax with more and more vehemence, attempting to push Dani out of his thoughts .
. . attempting to forget the taste of her, the feel of her pressed against him
. . .
“What are you doing, Jason?”
He paused mid-swing. It was her.
Dani. Of course it was her. She was behind him, but he didn’t look over his
shoulder at her. Couldn’t. She’d asked him what he was doing. What was he doing? Trying to banish her from
his mind? Trying to abolish the need to take her into his arms and never let
her go? “Chopping firewood,” he said before swinging the ax again. And again.
It was impossible for him to not think about her when she was
standing right there. Watching him. He couldn’t help but wonder if she liked
what she saw. Most women did. But she’d been different since . . . everything.
She’d become withdrawn and somber, almost fragile. Which was exactly why he
needed keep his distance. He was really good at hurting women—not physically
and not on purpose—they tended to despise him when they realized how little he would
allow himself to care. But the problem with Dani was that he already cared.
“This is kind of far from the house,”
she said behind him. From the sound of her voice, she was moving.
Again, Jason paused. “Yep.” He
raised the ax to swing again.
As Dani came into his peripheral
vision, Jason was careful to alter the angle of his swing so wood chips and
splinters wouldn’t hit her. He was also careful not to look at her. Maybe if he
brushed her off, she’d leave him alone to his exhaustive task. But even not
looking at her, he could see how closely she was watching him.
“How will you get it all back to the
ranch?” she asked. Her hands were in her coat pockets, and her shoulders were
hunched. She was cold.
He fought the urge to cease his
chopping and to wrap his arms around her. “I’ll carry it.”
“It’ll take a long time . . . lots
of trips,” she said.
She wanted something. She was
avoiding saying something. She probably wanted to yell at him for the abusive
kiss he’d forced on her back in the stable. It would be better for them both if
she just went away, let him deal with his emotions until they were once again
buried and manageable. “Yep,” he said, keeping his face blank of everything
except determination. He swung again. “That’s the point.”
With a huge, adorable sigh—she
reminded him of an exhausted kitten—Dani said, “We need to talk.”
“Can’t. Busy.” He hated his
dismissive tone.
“Stop
being such an ass!” Dani
snapped in his mind.
He loathed himself for causing such
a reaction from her. The corner of his mouth turned up, giving him the ghost of
a bitter smile. “But I’m so good at it.”
“This is important . . . and
difficult enough without you flinging that thing around!” she practically
yelled. When he didn’t respond, she stomped her foot and shouted, “Dammit,
Jason!” And then she started crying.
If there was one thing Jason couldn’t
just brush aside, it was Dani’s tears. And these were tears he’d caused. “Shit,”
he muttered, lowering the ax so it rested against his ankle. He looked at her,
his eyes wide in horror at what he’d done. He’d hurt her, just like he’d know
he would. “Don’t do that . . . I didn’t mean to . . . I shouldn’t have done
what I did back there.”
“What?” she asked, hanging her head
and crying harder.
Reluctantly, Jason approached her. “With
Cam and everything . . . and my sister . . . I shouldn’t have—”
“Oh shut up!” she shrieked. “This
isn’t about that!”
That stumped him. He dropped the ax.
“It’s not? Then what?”
Seeing the turmoil so evident on her
face, he couldn’t resist going to her, comforting her. He raised his hands to
her pale, cold cheeks and tilted her face upward so he could see her eyes. He
always felt more alive when he was looking into their emerald depths. At the
moment they were bottomless pits of sorrow. All he wanted to do was fix
whatever was hurting her. He felt a desperate need to take away her pain. “What
is it?”
Dani closed her eyes and spoke in
his head. “I . . . know what happened to
your dad.”
In an instant, Jason felt like all
the oxygen had disappeared from the air.
Opening her eyes, Dani said, “He’s
dead.”
At first, Jason couldn’t understand
the meaning behind her words. It unfurled, slowly, and he felt like he was
choking. “How do you know?” he rasped.
“Grams left a note for me before she
. . . died.”
Jason heard so much sadness in her
voice that it almost broke through his own torrent of despair—an infuriating
mixture of hatred, rage, and regret. His dad was dead. His dad, who he’d been
fixing things with, was dead. His dad, who no longer hated Jason for his life
decisions, was dead.
“She
found your dad sitting near the ocean. He was already gone,” Dani said
silently.
“Oh . . . I . . . He . . . We . . .
,” Jason stammered. He suddenly couldn’t stand himself. He should’ve made
better time, bypassed all those stops along the way to get to Bodega Bay—to his
dad—faster. If he’d arrived sooner, he could have helped his dad, nursed him
back to health like he’d done with the tiny woman in front of him. Like she had wanted to do. His dad was dead.
He couldn’t help but think it was his fault.
Unable to bear Dani’s pitying eyes
on him any longer, Jason turned away, picked up the ax, and threw it as hard as
he could. A wordless roar burst out of him from somewhere deep inside, and he
watched as the ax crashed against one of the cypress trees.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder,
and he spun, bursting with hatred for himself. He fully expected to see his
emotions reflected on Dani’s face. After all, her grandma was dead as well, and
she likely blamed him. If he’d only moved south faster . . .
But all he saw in Dani’s eyes was
empathy. She grieved, but she didn’t blame him. She understood him. As Jason’s
rage dissipated, a single tear escaped from his eye and glided down the left
side of his face. She understood him. Only she understood him.
Jason fell to his knees before her,
wrapping his arms around her hips. He held her as tightly as he could without
hurting her and pressed his face into her down jacket. He no longer cared about
his past . . . no longer cared about the danger of letting himself have real
feelings for someone. No matter how long it took, she would be his.
With her safe in his arms, Jason
allowed himself to feel his sorrow over losing his dad. He sank into it, waded
through it, embraced it. “I’d hoped . . . I’d thought maybe, just maybe . . .
but it was stupid. Hope is for fools.”
With surprising firmness, Dani
gripped the sides of his head and made him look up at her. He’d never seen this
fierce side of her—not even when she’d ambushed him on the lawn back in Gold
Hill—but he liked it.
“No Jason,” she whispered. She
continued silently, “Losing hope . . . that’s
for fools. What do you think happened to
all those people who survived the virus and then killed themselves? They lost hope. They’re the fools. But us . . . we have wants and desires and people we believe
in. We have hope, and when we lose it, we might as well lie down and die.”
Jason stared up at her, thinking she
was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He studied her pale, slightly
freckled face with its delicate features—her perfect little nose, brilliant
green eyes, rosebud mouth, and fiery red hair. He drank in the sight of her,
memorizing every detail. It was time; he was ready. He had to have her, and if
she wasn’t ready, well, he’d just have to convince her. He smirked. He could be
really convincing.
As Jason loosened his hold, moving
his hands to Dani’s slender hips, he felt her shiver. At first, he thought it
was because things were going well—because she was willing and ready—but then
she started swaying from side to side.
“Dani?” When she didn’t respond
right away, Jason repeated, “Dani, what’s wrong?” He watched confusion cloud
her face, watched her eyelids droop.
“My Ability . . . used to much . . .”
Her voice was barely audible.
Jason hooked an arm behind her knees
as she went limp. He stood, cradling her against his torso and having no idea
what was wrong with her. He didn’t think he’d ever been more scared, and he’d
experienced a lot of scary shit. Was she just fainting? Or was it something
more? What the hell was he supposed to do?
“Cold,” she whispered. “It’s dark.”
With a quick glance up at the
overcast sky, Jason muttered, “It’s the middle of the day.” He started walking
back toward the ranch. If she was cold, he’d find a way to warm her up. He was
fairly certain Chris had mentioned that the water heater at the ranch house
still worked.
“So cold . . . tired,” Dani mumbled.
Her head lolled back.
“No Dani. Shit! Stay with me,” Jason
urged desperately. It was difficult for him to keep his voice steady; he felt
so much rage, he wanted to scream. This was what happened to him—what always
happened and always would happen. If
he let himself care about someone, they would be taken away. Not her. “I need
you to wrap your arms around my neck. Can you do that?”
“I think . . . maybe . . . ,” Dani
said weakly, and Jason felt her arms wrap around his neck.
“Good,” he said. “Now hold on.”
Tightening his grip on her trembling body, he broke into a run. He would not lose her, too.
