Night of Secrets (Night of Secrets #1)

Chapter 8 - To Not Be Alone

About an hour later, Jax finally cuts the engine. I jump off as soon as I can and take the helmet off. When Jax takes his off, he rolls his eyes at me, grinning. "It wasn't that bad."

"I mean we didn't die," I allow. "So no, it wasn't that bad."

I hand the helmet back to Jax and glance around. The sun is starting to wane, bathing the trees all around us in even more of a rosy glow than it already was before. The road beneath our feet looks like it stretches out for miles in both directions, and it's so quiet, I'm positive we're the only two people around for miles. It's eerie but weirdly soothing. Maybe a little nostalgic, too. The last time I was anywhere near the woods was when Jax's parents and my parents decided we should go on a camping trip together. That was maybe five years ago. But I guess Jax has been back here by himself a lot if he brought me here.

"So why are we in the middle of the woods?" I ask. Jax points up. I follow his gaze to an old treehouse. The actual treehouse looks like it's starting to rot, but the pieces of wood nailed to the trunk that act as a ladder look brand new. "This is your treehouse?"

"I guess," he shrugs. "I came across it a few years back. Whenever I came by, it didn't look like anyone was using it, so I just took over."

"And no one's been here other than you?"

"Not that I know of. I mean, all my things are still up there."

I blink. "You have things up there?"

Jax laughs at my expression. "Yeah, I'll show you."

He climbs the ladder first. When I reach the top, I pull my legs beneath me and shut the door. The moment I look around, I know this is definitely Jax's treehouse. There are pictures on the walls, a bookcase with some of his kickboxing trophies (all second and third place but I know for a fact the first place ones are at his house), and two bean bag chairs in the corner.

"This is a very you place," I say, getting to my feet.

Jax collapses into one of the beanbag chairs, furrowing his eyebrows. "Thanks?"

"You're welcome."

I get to my feet and look over some of the pictures. A lot of them are of Jax and his friends. There are a few of our family dinners. All of that is to be expected, but I don't expect to see some pictures of us when we were younger. Like pictures of us at each other's birthdays, playing at the park, doing homework together, and dressing up for Halloween. I run my hand over one. In this picture, Jax is sitting on top of the monkey bars while I'm hanging from them beneath him. I remember falling right after the picture was taken. Jax laughed until he realized how hurt I actually was. That was when he started walking beneath me on the monkey bars.

"I didn't think you'd have pictures of us up here," I admit.

When I turn to him, he's already looking at me. He blinks, shaking his head, clearing whatever thoughts he was having. "Why wouldn't I?"

I shrug. "We haven't hung out in a long time. Every other picture is pretty recent, but the ones like this--" I point to the picture I was looking at "--is probably eight years old."

"What can I say? I'm sentimental, and..."

He trails off. He's sitting directly in the waning sunlight, but it's hard to read his expression. But maybe that's because I'm getting distracted by how his eyes are a really nice shade of brown in the sunlight. Anyone would be distracted by that.

Jax swallows and clears his throat, taking me back to the moment. It helps that he glances away, and I can't see his eyes anymore. "And it's a good picture." I don't think that's what he was going to say or what he wanted to say, but he continues before I can ask. "Anyway, I just come here because it's quiet and it's a good place to be when I'm by myself."