Perfect Redemption

Thirty Three: In Which He Ties Off All Loose Ends

Dedicated to magicallycursed because her book Prodigy of the Heart gave me so much FEELS <3

[J A X ' S   P O V]

I take Blaire's advice. I pack up most of my things and head back to Boston.

Baxton had been thrilled. He too agreed that I need to get out of this place. LA was never good for me; he knew it and that's why he tried to keep me away from it. But I never listened; I had been convinced that my dad was delusional and I was meant to be there with him. Now I know all too well how hectic and crazy life can be there.

When I touch down, I grab my things and head back to my apartment. It's been far too long since I stepped foot in here. A lot of memories had been made—some good, others bad. Memories of passion, love and betrayal and memories of anger, confusion and pain. There had been too many to count—too many things that have gone wrong here and too many to gain forgiveness for.

But one person that keeps plaguing my thoughts and my dreams.

     The one person that for the past three years my life had been centered around.

     The one person that I've bent, snapped, broken and never put together again.

     The one person who I loved, thought I loved, hated and missed for a very long time. And the one person who've I've been dying to meet ever since I arrived back in Boston.

Sienna.

Just the thought of her causes my chest to hurt, as if my heart had been compressed by two huge hands. There's a lot of feelings surrounding her—guilt, pain, sorrow—all have been bubbling within the depths of me for months now. After all, she was the reason I ended up in LA in the first place. I thought I could escape her. I thought I could finally put her behind me.

I was wrong.

I need to face her. Blaire's right—I need to talk to her again, to settle things between her once and for all. The last time I talked to her, I hadn't yet felt the peace of mind I was hoping to find. I've left things quite... open-ended between us and there's still uncertainty when it comes to her.

     I don't know if she loves me or hates me. I don't know if she still holds a grudge on me or has forgiven me. I'm hoping that when I see her again, I'll be able to know all of those answers, regardless of whether they're going to hurt me.

So I wait. I wait for her at Caffeinated, my fingers drumming loudly against the mahogany coffee table, watching the door like a hawk, hoping that she would show up. I sent her a text a few hours ago, asking her if she would meet me today for coffee. She replied half an hour later, saying that she promised she would.

I'm hoping that she'll uphold her promise and show up today.

I take a sip of my coffee, taking in the hot liquid, and after placing it down, wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve. I take a deep, shaky breath and close my eyes, hoping that I'll squeeze out all the nerves that are running through my entire body. My hands are shaking—I don't think I've ever been this nervous before, not even for a fight. Maybe it's because regardless of who's on the other side of that ring, I know I'll win.

This time, however, I'm not so sure I can.

I hear the soft whoosh of the door opening and my eyes quickly dart up. My heart is caught off guard by the sight of her that it pauses, skipping a beat. Her mess of a blonde hair is tied into a slick high ponytail. Her attire—loose tank top, long black pants and sports shoes—all suggest that she just arrived from the gym. A small towel hangs loosely around her neck and she grabs it to stuff it in her bag.