Southern Storms (Compass #1) - Brittainy Cherry Page 0,40

was lifting me up and making me float down the sidewalk. Either way, he walked me all the way back to my house in complete silence as my heartbeats began to come down to a much tamer speed. I felt everyone’s eyes on Jax and me as we walked, and I hated it. I hated the embarrassment that came with the panic attacks, the way people stared as if I were a nutjob.

I remembered my first panic attack in a public place. It was at Penn’s real estate agency’s annual Christmas party. I had a full-blown meltdown while the speakers blasted my baby girl’s favorite holiday song, “This Christmas” by Donny Hathaway. I was mid-conversation with his boss when my knees buckled from beneath me and I hit the ground in a warp of panic.

He was humiliated to call me his wife after that.

I could only imagine how Jax felt walking me home in this moment. What was worse was he wasn’t even married to me. He was a complete and utter stranger dealing with the looks of the whole town. He didn’t seem bothered by it at all, though. He just kept walking with his arm linked with mine.

When we arrived at the house, I thanked him, and he shushed me and told me to sit down on the front step.

“I’m really okay,” I said, still feeling a bit shaky and lightheaded.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before releasing his sigh. “Please,” he urged. “Sit down.”

Even though I wanted to argue, I decided to pick my battles. I sat, and to my surprise, he took a seat beside me. I didn’t know what to say to him, but thankfully, Jax wasn’t looking for words. He simply sat next to me in a complete silence that felt…comforting? Yes. I felt so much more comfortable than I had when I was walking into town, all because Jax was on that front porch step.

It turned out you didn’t need words to bring you comfort. Sometimes, all you needed was for someone to sit beside you in the middle of your panicked storms.

When the time came for him to leave, he rose to his feet and glanced down at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am. Thank you for helping me.” I paused. “How long? How long did you know I was…me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “A few days. I saw your family car sitting in the driveway.”

“I… This…it’s crazy, right? After all these years, for us to meet up like this… I’m just trying to understand what it all means, how it all—”

“Nothing. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

I placed my hand against my chest and breathed in deeply. “But it could, right? It could mean something. I mean it almost feels like kismet, right? Of all the towns I could’ve ended up in, I ended up here. You feel it, don’t you? You feel how this feels…I don’t know…it’s just a feeling in my chest. What if—”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to make this something it’s not. Truthfully, we should probably keep our distance. To keep the past in the past.”

I stayed quiet because, I didn’t know what to say. To be honest, I felt a little crazy. My mind was still spinning from my panic attack, and my heart rate was too high to decide if I wanted to hug Jax or yell at him for disappearing all those years ago. Before I could do anything, he was already walking away, leaving me alone with all of the thoughts and questions shooting through my brain.

After Jax left, I headed straight into the house with an overwhelming urgency. I rushed toward my bedroom, straight for a box I had yet to unpack. Ripping the tape from it, I tossed items out of the way until I came upon a golden treasure box. In that box was where I kept all my most precious items. Mama’s jewelry. Daddy’s favorite ties. Daisy’s drawings. Old photographs. And letters from Jax.

Letters he’d written to me so long ago. Letters I’d kept safely locked away throughout the years. I hadn’t read his words in the longest time, but now my heart was pounding wildly in my chest as I reached into the box and unfolded the notes to read the words ten-year-old Jax had written to me.

His words were scribbled across the pages in black ink, and I smiled at how he was always able to stay within the lines—the complete opposite of how I

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