I'd never throw them away. They're in the attic. The boxes are marked with your name."
"I'm going to look through them," he said shortly, heading out of the kitchen.
Maya drew in a breath and let it out, feeling very much like a third wheel, especially now that Jax was gone and she was alone with his very shaken parents.
"He hates us," Carol said, with pain in her eyes. "I was afraid of this day."
"He just needs time," she said, wanting to reassure her, even though she wasn't sure time would change anything.
"She's right," Rick said, hope in his gaze. "He'll realize we did our best for him, because we did." He looked at Maya. "I don't know how much he told you, but I assume everything since you're here with him."
"He's told me some; I don't know if it's everything. But I do know he was extremely grateful to have you as parents."
"We loved him like our own kids. I know he didn't always feel like he was as much a part of the family as our girls, but he was. They adore him, too," Carol said. "He was always their very protective big brother. He grew up to be a good man. I'd like to think we had some part in that."
"I'm sure you did."
"Are you two involved?" Carol asked.
"That's a complicated question," she said. "Maybe I'll go check on him."
"You can reach the attic from the stairs at the end of the hall."
She got up from the table and followed Carol's directions.
When she made her way into the attic, she saw Jax kneeling in front of a very old-looking box.
She knelt down next to him.
"This holds the chess set my father gave me when I was a boy. He made sure I took it with me that weekend. But I never played it. I never even took the board or the pieces out."
"Maybe you should take it back to your house."
"I'm going to, along with the other boxes. It's doubtful there's any kind of clue in my old toys, but I need to look through everything, and I don't want to do it here. I want to get the hell out of this house as fast as I can." The anger burned through his voice and his eyes. "I can't believe the lies they told me, the fiction they created."
"They had a good reason. They did it because they loved you, and they made a promise to your parents to keep you safe."
"Don't take their side," he warned.
"Why not?" she challenged. "I heard what they had to say, and I think they did a lot for you. They took you in. They raised you. They loved you. When you first got here, they were so happy to see you. Their love is real. It was there when you were growing up, and it's there now. There's nothing fake about their feelings."
"I don't know that that's true."
"That's because you're furious, and I understand your side, too. They should have told you the truth when you were an adult, especially after you joined the FBI. But it's done. You can't change it."
He met her gaze and let out a troubled breath. "I just can't believe they suspected my parents were killed all this time and never tried to do much about it."
"What could they do? And how could they do it? If they'd gotten too involved, they could have jeopardized your safety. That was their priority—taking care of you, not getting justice for your parents."
"Well, I'm going to get them justice. I just have to figure out who would have killed them. And I suspect it's going to be someone tied to the Russia House, maybe even to your grandmother."
"I can't argue with that."
He let out a breath. "Thanks for letting me vent."
"I know what it feels like to be lied to."
Guilt flitted through his eyes. "I know you do. I hurt you."
"That's the problem with secrets and lies, even if they're kept or told for a good reason; they always come out, and someone always gets hurt."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maya's words rang around in Jax's head as he drove back to Santa Monica. He'd lied to her, and his parents had lied to him. Everyone was hurting, but they weren't the ones who should be in pain. The people responsible for his parents' death, for Natasha's death, for Maya losing her house—those were the ones who needed to be punished, and he was not going to rest until that happened.