The Quiet Game (Pushed Aside Book 1) Read online

  “Slow down,” He says in a hushed voice.

  When I open the front door, I realize I’m not wearing anything besides panties and a jacket that is about six sizes too big on me. I wrap my arms around me as tight as I can and look around me. There is nobody outside that I can see. The houses in this neighborhood are pretty far apart and it's dark outside so I doubt anybody can see me, even from a window. I take a timid step outside, my bare feet hitting the cold wood of the porch. I feel his arm wrap around mine, ushering me gently away from the house, towards the road.

  There is a car parked right in front of the door and I realize that it is my escape plan when my mystery savior opens the passenger door for me.

  “Get in,” he urges me and I don’t hesitate.

  I just get in the car without thought. In the back of my mind I know I should be worried about getting into the car of a guy I basically know nothing about, but I’m not. I have this odd feeling of safety, which is the exact opposite of what I felt like around Coleman.

  He shuts my door and gets into the driver's side. As we speed away, questions in my head begin to overtake all my worries. What just happened? Who is this guy and where is he taking me? How did he know where I was and that I was in trouble? How does he know Denise and why is he helping me?

  I feel like my head is about to explode when one of my silent questions gets answered.

  “Jaxon,” he says from the driver’s seat.

  I turn my head to him, studying his profile, as he keeps his gaze locked towards the road. “I’m Jaxon, I don’t know if you remember, but we’ve met before.” He sounds a little bit uncertain, as if part of him is hoping I remember him when another part of him doesn’t.

  Knowing his name leaves me with about fifty questions, but all I can squeeze out past the tennis ball size lump that is still clogging up my throat is, “how?”

  “How… did I find you?” He tries to finish my question. When he glances my way I give him a small nod.

  “Well, it's a long story. Just know you’re safe now. You can stay at my place tonight. I’ll take you to school in the morning and after you can go back to your old foster family. You won’t have to see the Colemans ever again, I’ll make sure of it.”

  I can hear the promise in his voice as he speaks. I’m not sure how he could possibly make sure of that and I am definitely not sure how I feel about staying at his place but I guess I don’t have much of a choice. Until now he hasn’t been anything but nice to me, which gives me hope that he is just trying to help.

  We don’t speak for the rest of the drive and I am fine with that. Oddly enough, the longer I have him sitting next to me the safer I feel. There is something about him that makes me feel protected and cared for.

  After a short drive, he pulls up to an apartment complex. I wouldn’t call it upscale but it is definitely nicer than anything l have ever stayed at. Jaxon grabs my stuff from the backseat, he hands me my shoes but holds on to my backpack. I slip on my sneakers while he gets out, walks around the car and opens my door. I tightly clasp the jacket shut as we rush into the building, though the hallway and up the stairs.

  We enter his apartment and I quickly take in my new surroundings. It’s simple but nice. It looks like something you would expect a single guy to live in. Small kitchen, gray walls, black leather couch facing a ginormous flat screen TV. There is no entryway so we step directly into a living room with a kitchen attached to it. There are only two doors. I’m guessing one bedroom, one bathroom.

  “Are you hungry?” He asks when he turns to me.

  I shake my head. There is no way I could keep anything down right now.

  He runs his fingers through his hair and looks down like he is not sure what to do next.

  “Ok then,” he finally says. “Let’s get you to bed. It’s late.”

  He leads me to the bedroom…his bedroom. He hands me some clothes from the dresser and ushers me to the bathroom. When I’m in the door closes behind me I take his jacket off and pull on the large t-shirt he gave me to wear. It fits me more like a dress and I’m completely fine with that. When I step back out, he is waiting for me at the door.

  “You can sleep in the bed,” he gestured to the king size bed.

  I’m not sure what I’m waiting for but I just stand there for a long moment trying to think of something to say. I still have a lot of questions but for now, I decide I have had enough for today and I just want to go to sleep. Before he leaves the room I say the only thing that can’t wait until tomorrow.

  “Thank you…Jaxon.” As soon as his name passes my lips I know that I have said that name before. I don’t know when or where, but I’m certain of it.

  “You’re welcome,” he mumbles and walks out of the bedroom without looking at me again.

  The bed is big and the mattress is soft. I cover up with the heavy comforter and let my body relax for the first time today. This just might be the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been in. Now that I’m lying down, a wave of exhaustion comes over me. I turn sideways and pull up my legs. The pillow smells nice I notice, just like the jacket. I take another deep breath before I come to the realization that both smell like him and that I just smelled his pillow like a creeper.

  I’m startled when the door opens and Jaxon walks in quietly. It’s dark in here so I can only see his silhouette and he can’t see me staring at him. When he said I can sleep in the bed I assumed he was sleeping somewhere else.

  I guess I was wrong.

  He doesn’t lift the blanket when the bed dips and he lies down next to me. We are not close to touching and we are not sharing a blanket but still, this feels very intimate. The tiredness I experienced a minute ago has vanished and my eyes are wide open again.

  I don’t know how long we lie there like that. Just when I think he went to sleep he starts talking to me.

  “I’m a foster kid too. I know how it sucks not having anyone watching out for you. Getting pushed around from one foster home to the next. I never really felt like I had anyone on my side. So, when I… I saw you that night three years ago, I just wanted to help you somehow.” He pauses for a moment and I let sink in what he is trying to tell me. Did he just say he’s been watching out for me for the last three years?

  “I know a few people, caseworkers and pencil pushers at the CPS, so, I used those connections to make sure that you get placed with good families. I know what kind of scum Coleman is, so when I heard you got placed there I came right away.”

  I hear his words but I can’t comprehend what he is telling me. This whole time he has been helping me? Watching over me from afar? I try to think back. It’s true, I’ve been placed in decent homes over the last three years. Until now I chalked it up to luck.

  My whole life I’ve been on my own and I figured I would always be on my own. Out of nowhere, this guy comes along, telling me that he’s been watching out for me over the last three years. Why didn’t he let me know what he was doing instead of letting me think that I’m alone? Is he really telling me the truth?

  At least some of this has to be true or how else could he possibly have known where I was and that I was in trouble. Trying to process all this new information on top of all the things that have happened today makes my head spin. I close my eyes and try to calm my mind. At first, I concentrate on my own breathing but I can’t ignore the steady rhythm of Jaxson’s breathing next to me. Not long and I start matching his. It somehow makes me feel safe that someone is next to me. Someone I trust, even though I barely know him. Two feelings I’m not used to. Trust and safety. Before I know it, I’m drifting off to sleep with Jaxon’s breathing as my lullaby.

  When I wake up it is still early morning, the sun is not all the way up yet, and there is only a dim light in the room. Jaxon isn’t next to me; he is standing in front of a dresser digging through the top drawer. His back is turned to me and all he is wearing are some sweatpants, no shirt. I study his bare torso. The shirt he was wearing yesterday was only hiding how muscular he really is.
His broad shoulders are well defined and his upper arms are twice the size of my thighs. I stare at him for a few minutes when he suddenly chuckles.

  “Enjoying the show?”

  I instantly look away and only then realize there is a mirror on the wall a few feet to the side and he saw me watching him. My face feels like it's on fire and I’m sure he can see my cheeks changing color into a bright red even with the little bit of light the room offers. I want to pull the blanket over my face and melt into the mattress.

  “I’m making breakfast. Your backpack is in the bathroom if you want to get cleaned up or anything.”

  I wait until he leaves the room before I sneak into the bathroom without even looking his way. I splash some cold water in my face and inspect my reflection in the mirror. My face is not swollen or bruised. The only visible sign of last night is my split lip but most of the cut is on the inside so I think I could hide it well enough for people not to ask questions. When I get my clothes out I realize my shirt has a very visible bloodstain on it. That won't be as easy to hide. I hope Jaxon drops me off at home so I can change. I pull my clothes on and leave his shirt hanging on the towel rack.

  When I walk into the kitchen he is sitting at the kitchen island waiting for me. There are two large glasses on the counter full to the brim with something that looks like chocolate milk.

  “It’s no gourmet breakfast but it gets the job done.” He hands me one of the glasses.

  I take a little sip. It’s thicker than I expected and has a bit of a chalky texture but it’s not bad. Its chocolate flavored but without a strong sweetness. I gulp it down, only then realizing how hungry I was.

  “You should drink one or two of these a day. You look like you can use some extra protein.”

  I don’t know why I find myself offended by his comment. He is not wrong, I am a little scrawny and could probably do well with more protein in my diet. I usually don’t even care what other people think about me but somehow, I care what he thinks.

  He frowns when he looks at my shirt and spots the dried blood. Suddenly he gets up and pulls out a large box from a wall closet. He digs around before pulling out a black shirt and handing it to me. I’m surprised to see it's a girl's shirt size small. Does he have a girlfriend? The thought makes my chest sting unexpectedly. The shirt is all black except a small gray logo on the back that reads ‘The Bunker’. The front is low cut, too low cut for me to be comfortable wearing it so I just pull it over my own shirt. Jaxon inspects me and straightens out the shirt around my shoulders. The touch gives me goosebumps, but not in a bad way. Rather in an unfamiliar exciting way.

  “There you go,” he says approvingly and pulls out a phone with a charging cable from a kitchen drawer and hands it to me.

  “Here, you keep this and keep it charged. My phone number is saved in there. I want you to call or text if you think you are in trouble…or if you need anything. Got it?”

  “Okay,” I say quietly while tucking the phone away in the pocket of my backpack.

  He looks me straight in the eyes and gives me a dazzling smile. “Okay,” He echoes.

  On the drive to school, he gives me instructions about what to say happened yesterday if someone asks me. “I don’t think anybody is going to ask a lot of questions about last night. Just act like nothing in particular happened. Trust me it’s better like that.”

  I know what he means. No one is going to believe me anyway, not when it comes down to the word of a foster kid against the word of some rich lawyer couple. He doesn’t stop in front of my school, instead, he pulls up into a hidden corner a block away.

  Only now am I starting to appreciate how nice the vehicle is that we are in. I don’t know anything about cars but I can tell that this is a sports car. On the steering wheel, I find a silver emblem of a running horse.

  I face him and get the weird urge to hug him but instead, I just give him a shy smile. He smiles back before I turn and get out. I can’t help but wonder when I will see him again.

  7

  Jaxon

  I wait in my car until I can’t see her anymore. I’m parked in the same spot I’ve parked a hundred times before to watch her walk into school. It took a lot to let her go today. I would have rather kept her locked up in my apartment, but I know that wouldn’t be wise. I probably freaked her out enough sleeping in the bed with her. Its probably better she doesn’t know the extent of my overprotectiveness and stalker tendencies.

  “Okay…” her angelic voice still echoes around in my head. I have seen her plenty of times, but I hadn’t heard her voice in three years. She rarely talks to anyone, which only makes me cling on and appreciate the few words she did say to me even more.

  I don’t know why I didn’t tell her the whole story last night. Why I didn’t tell her how long we have actually known each other and that she used to sleep in my bed, curled up in my arms. Maybe I don’t want her to know that it was my fault that she got that scar on her forehead. My selfishness that put her in danger. Or maybe I don’t want her to think of me as her big brother. The way I used to think of myself. Pretending she was my little sister and that I needed to protect and take care of her. I still want to keep her safe and take care of her, but recently I have been looking at her in a different way. I have to keep reminding myself how young she still is, how innocent. I don’t want to mess that up. I need to stay away and out of her life as much as I can, even if my heart tells me to do the opposite.

  When I get to the club I pull into my normal parking spot in the back. The club is deserted during the day but will be packed to the rim tonight. As soon as I walk in and go downstairs, I see Colt lying on a couch passed out with some chick halfway on top of him. I kick his leg. “You are supposed to sell the dope, not sample it.”

  He only grunts and waves me off.

  Colt and Hunter are both a year older than me but somehow, I’ve always been the one with more sense, so they generally follow my orders. I keep walking through the basement and find Hunter waiting next to the large metal cage in the center of the large room. He is already in workout clothes and looking warmed up.

  “It’s about time.” He yells and jumps up strolling to the middle of the cage. I drop my keys on a bench and pull off my shirt.

  “Can't wait to get your ass kicked?”

  “Please, I only take it easy on you cause you have a fight tonight.”

  “Whatever you have to tell yourself, buddy.”

  We start sparring easy enough where we can still talk. I tell him about last night expecting him to be mad that I went to Coleman’s house by myself but all he says is, “I don’t know why you keep helping that girl. You don’t owe her anything. She is not your problem.”

  His words spark a burst of anger in me and I give him a right hook that would knock out most men. Hunter, of course, is not most men and recovers quickly.

  “Jesus dude, maybe we need to keep the little girl around here tonight. Let you get really mad before the fight.”

  The thought of Eliza in this place scares and excites me at the same time. I want her by my side at all the times so I know she is safe, but imagining her down here is like seeing a white dove alighting upon a sea of ravens.

  “I don’t need someone to get me mad, I have enough pent up anger to last me a lifetime.”

  Hunter nods, he knows I’m right. That's why I’m the only one of us still fighting. We used to all fight, that's how we started making money. Once Hunter and Colt started losing, they moved into other lucrative business ventures… all of them illegal of course. Hunter mostly loans out money for a hefty interest rate and combines that with high stakes poker games. Colt does what we like to call the dirty work. He sells every drug known to man and has a high-class escort service with a wide selection of girls. The most lucrative aspect of everything we do is that we have dirt on about everybody in town. Favors and information are more valuable than money nowadays.

  “Did Colt talk to you about tonight yet?” Hunter asks in between punches.
<
br />   “What about?”

  “Him betting against you and you throwing the fight.”

  I shake my head.

  “This shit again?” He has asked me at least fifty times over the years and my answer has always been the same. Hell no.

  8

  Eliza

  I make it through the whole school day without anyone noticing my split lip or noticing me in general. I’m just about to walk out of the door after the bell rings. Unexpectedly, three girls stop me by building a wall in front of me and block the way. They are all older than me, all seniors, and part of what I would call the cool kids clique.

  “Where the hell did you get that shirt?” One of them asks in a tone that is more of an accusation that a question.

  I just stare at her confused. What an odd question. Why would she care where I got this shirt? It's a simple t-shirt. Unless…and realization dawns on me. Is she his girlfriend? Is this her shirt? I’m trying to think of what to say. How could I possibly explain anything about last night?

  “She probably stole it. How else would she have gotten her hands on it?” Another girl says.

  “This is what the waitresses wear and there is no way she works there.” Now I am even more confused and apparently my face reflects my inner conflict.

  “See, she doesn’t even know what The Bunker is.” The third girl says sounding annoyed.

  “Let's go this is a waste of time”

  With that all three girls turn in one fluid motion and walk off, leaving me more confused than ever.

  Today I take my time walking home. I am in no rush to face my foster parents, even though I like them. They are an older couple I have been with for the last fifteen months. They don’t have much money but they take care of me as best as they can. The possibility of having to explain to them and maybe even Denise about what happened in the last twenty-four hours is what scares me. When I get there, my fears are confirmed. Denise’s little Honda is parked at the curb when I slowly walk in.