Breaking Down Page 5

  “Hey,” I say as I walk into the house and spot Mav in the kitchen, “do we have anything we can feed a cat?”

  “Why yes, Jax, I do accept your apology for being a dick,” Mav says, ignoring me.

  “Pfft, you know I didn’t mean it. Besides, I’m always a dick, have been for twenty years now. I figured you’re used to it.”

  He nods. “There is that.”

  “Good, now that’s all settled, do we have anything we can feed to a cat?” I ask.

  “A cat? Why would we need to feed a cat? And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

  “Afraid I’ll make you look bad in front of your lady?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows.

  “Hardly,” Mav replies, lifting his own shirt to show me his abs of steel. Sometimes, just sometimes, it sucks to ride a BMX bike. We can’t carry as much bulk as the FMX guys, so in comparison we look a little weedier, but more trim. “So why no shirt?”

  “Because the cat I found is sleeping in it.” I motion to the sleeping floof in my arms.

  “Where the fuck did you find a cat?” Mav asks.

  “On the side of the road.”

  “Jax,” he sighs.

  “What? I saw some roadkill so I’m pretty sure that was its mum. Just look at it, Mav, so fluffy and tiny.” I offer him the cat wrapped in my shirt. He looks, and shakes his head. “Can I keep it?” I ask, hopefully. Not that it matters if he says no, me and my dude Buttons here are bonded for life.

  “Are you going to look after it?” he asks.

  “Course, I’ll clean its kitty litter tray and everything,” I promise.

  “Why do I feel like Pop in this scenario?”

  “Practice for when you and sis have kids. So can I keep him, Dad?” I ask, “Please?”

  He takes another look at the sleeping kitten. “Ugh, fine, but it’s your responsibility.”

  “Yes!” I crow. “You’re the best big bro.” I grab him around the neck and smack a kiss on his cheek.

  “Ugh, gross, get off me,” he says, pushing me away. There’s a smile on his face though, so I know he loved it. “You better take it to a vet and get it checked out,” he says.

  “Huh, that’s not a bad idea,” I say, looking around.

  “Not here, you idiot,” Mav says. “There’s a vet in town. Hang on, I’ve got a flyer here somewhere.” He rummages through a pile of junk he’s accumulated on the kitchen bench. “Here we go.” He hands it over to me.

  Somewhat skilfully, considering my recently broken collarbone and the sleeping kitten in my arms, I manage to get my phone out of my pocket and give them a call. They say they can fit us in in forty-five minutes. I grab another shirt from the floordrobe in my bedroom before carefully making a nest for my dude Buttons on the front seat of Mav’s car.

  When we get to the vet, I take the nesting Buttons inside and am met with a hulking mass of pit bull, which I’m sure is also half horse. I slam up against the glass window, crushing Buttons to my chest as I try to stay as far away from the canine goliath as possible. The dog is straining at its leash, trying desperately to get at us.

  “Hey, excuse me,” I say, a slight touch of hysteria to my voice, “but is there somewhere I can go to get away from goliath here? I think he wants to eat my cat for dinner.” Both his owner and the girl behind the desk look unconcerned about the imminent threat my dude Buttons is under. “Seriously,” I say as goliath lunges for me again, “he’s going to eat my cat!” I look at the girl behind the desk and appeal directly to her. “You work at a vet clinic, doesn’t that mean you like animals?” When she doesn’t say anything, I change tack. “Fine, you don’t give a shit about animals, but do you care about the mess you’ll have to clean up if you don’t get my dude here out from underneath his nose?” I gesture to the dog that now has drool coming out of its mouth. I’m just about to start yelling when a door opens and Bentley walks out.

  “Jax?” she asks, confused.

  “Yeah hi, do you work here? ’Cause this dog/horse cross-breed is about to eat my cat, and no one is giving a shit.”

  She laughs, a sound I haven’t heard before but one I won’t forget, before stepping back into the room she just came out of and gesturing me in. I skirt around goliath, Buttons held tightly to my chest, and shoot dirty looks at his owner and the girl behind the desk. I shut the door behind me and drag the only chair in the room underneath the handle. Bentley chuckles again, and when I turn to face her, I see she has an amused look on her face.

  “What?”

  Chapter 10

  Bentley

  To say this is a side of Jax I never thought I’d see, let alone knew even existed is an understatement. After dragging the chair underneath the door handle, he still clutches whatever is in the… is that his shirt? Anyway, he’s still holding it tight to his chest.

  “What?” he asks when neither of us says anything.

  “You have a….” I look at the computer screen that shows the appointment schedule. “A cat?” I ask.

  “Yeah? So?” he asks, still clutching the shirt/cat bundle to his chest.

  “Figured you’d be more of a dog person,” I say, as I gather the instruments Lisa is going to need to examine Jax’s precious cargo.

  “I nearly had no pet at all. That dog out there was about to eat my dude Buttons here, and no one gave a shit. If I were you, I’d take a look at your hiring policy. That girl behind the desk didn’t seem at all concerned a murder was about to go down right in front of her eyes. I bet she only works here so she gets to see animals in pain.”

  “You and your dude Buttons were fine,” I say. “Brutus is a gentle giant, all bark, no bite.”

  “Pfft, Brutus,” Jax grumbles.

  “So are you going to let me take a look at the infamous Buttons, or just stand there all day?”

  “You’re a vet?” he asks as he moves closer to the exam table.

  “A vet nurse. The vet, Lisa, is finishing up with something, but I can get the pre-check done while we’re waiting,” I explain.

  He eyes me suspiciously, not making any moves to put down the bundle in his arms. “I dunno,” he says. “I think we’ll wait for the doc.”

  “Seriously?” I huff.

  “I still remember the grip you had on my dude downstairs,” he says and looks down to his shorts. “I don’t know if I want to subject my dude Buttons to that kind of treatment.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath. “That was a totally different situation.”

  He eyes me again. “I dunno….”

  “Come on, Jax. This is what I do, I won’t hurt him. I promise.”

  “Hmm….”

  “Look, just give him to me for a minute. I’ll take his temp, check his ears and eyes, and give him straight back.”

  “Okay,” he says, reluctantly handing me the cat and his shirt.

  I unwrap it and find the cutest kitten I’ve ever seen. “Hey, precious,” I coo, lifting the kitten and holding him, no, her, to my chest. “First things first,” I say to Jax, “your dude is a dudette.”

  “He’s a she?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yep, he’s a she.”

  “Is she okay?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the kitten in my arms. I quickly check her over.

  “She’s fine. She’s young, only about a month old I’m guessing.”

  “I found her in the bushes. I’m pretty sure her mum was hit by a car.”

  “So you’re her white knight,” I say as I hand her back to him.

  “Nah, just a softy. So, um, what do I do now? Do I need to do anything special?” he asks, gently rocking side to side, stroking the cat absentmindedly.

  “Make sure she has water. You can feed her a mixture of kitten food mixed with some cat milk. She needs that three or four times a day.”

  “Okay.” He nods, a look of seriousness and intense concentration on his face.

  “You’ll also need a litter tray. She’s old enough that she’ll begin scratching in the litter, so training her shoul
dn’t be a problem.”

  “Right.”

  “She’ll need vaccinations in two to three weeks. Then again when she’s ten weeks, and sixteen weeks. At that stage, she can also be desexed and microchipped.”

  “You mean cut out her girly bits?” he asks, aghast, clutching her tighter to his chest.

  “I mean help control the population and stop her from bringing home a litter of kittens for you to look after,” I say.

  “Are you saying my cat, this precious ball of fluff, is going to sleep around like a hussy?” he asks.

  I can’t help it; this whole afternoon has been completely random. I throw my head back and laugh so hard I cry. “Oh my God,” I say as I wipe my eyes once my laughter subsides.

  Jax just glares at me. “You good?” he asks.

  “Yeah, thanks for that. I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard,” I say.

  “Glad we amuse you,” he says as he cuddles Buttons tighter and starts talking gibberish to her.

  Just then Lisa walks in. She surveys the room, me with a massive smile on my face, and Jax glaring at me. “How’s everything going in here?” she asks.

  “Are you the vet?” Jax asks.

  “I am,” Lisa replies. “Dr Lisa Middleton.” She offers her hand to him. He doesn’t take it.

  “I don’t know what kind of operation you run here, doc,” Jax says, “but I’m not impressed.”

  “Oh?” she asks.

  “Yeah. First, my cat was almost eaten by some massive fucking monster of a dog in the waiting room while your staff sat around and did nothing. Then this one,” he motions to me, “called my girl here a hussy.”

  Lisa looks at me and raises an eyebrow.

  “I was giving Jax the vaccination and desexing schedule,” I explain.

  “Yeah, saying that because my cat’s a hussy, she needs her bits removed.” He cuddles the now sleeping cat closer to his chest.

  “I see,” Lisa says as she motions for Jax to hand over Buttons. He glances at her and half turns away while I muffle a giggle. Lisa turns to glare at me, and I sober up quickly. “Look….” She trails off, not remembering Jax’s name.

  “Jax,” I supply. She turns and looks at me, raising an eyebrow again. I nod and shrug.

  “Look, Jax, I know the topic of desexing can be a little uncomfortable, but it’s really for….”

  “Buttons,” I say.

  “It’s for Buttons’s own good. While it’s obvious she’s far from a hussy, we don’t want to take the chance there are male cats out there who are less than scrupulous with their morals. We wouldn’t want Buttons here to be taken advantage of, would we?” Lisa asks.

  Jax thinks for a minute before replying. “I suppose not. Men can be pigs and I don’t want my girl here to fall victim to that.”

  “That’s good,” Lisa says. “Now do you mind if I check her out? I’ll only be a minute.”

  He hands over the cat and continues to glare at me. Being the mature twenty-four-year-old that I am, I glare back. There may even be some tongue poking, but I’ll deny it till I die.

  “I’ve heard about your type,” he says to me.

  “Oh yeah, and what type is that?”

  “The type that likes to bring other women down so you feel better about yourself.”

  Once again I have to bite back my laughter. Instead I nod solemnly. “Yep, you caught me, I’m a mean girl.”

  He nods. “I thought so.”

  Lisa finishes her exam and hands Buttons back to Jax. “She’s healthy.”

  “Oh good,” he says, relieved.

  “Has Bentley told you about how to care for her from here?” she asks.

  “Yeah, kitten food with pet milk, water, kitty litter,” he says.

  She nods. “Good. She’s about a month old so she’ll need to come in again in a few weeks for her first lot of vaccinations. Oh, and look out for ticks. It’s hot and humid, just the type of weather they like. She’s too young for kitten tick protection so maybe keep her inside for now.”

  “All right, we can do that, can’t we, baby girl?” he asks the cat, bouncing her in his arms.

  “You can make an appointment now for a couple of weeks’ time if you’d like,” Lisa says as he wraps Buttons in his shirt.

  “Yeah thanks, I’ll do that.”

  “You can also book her in for desexing as well,” I say. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself.

  Jax glares at me. “He-Man Woman Hater,” he says, and removes the chair before exiting the room.

  “I think you just created a feminist,” Lisa says to me as we both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

  Chapter 11

  Jax

  “You going to tell me what happened yesterday?” Bentley says as she approaches me at the gym the next day.

  “You called my cat a hussy,” I reply, a little breathlessly as I jog on the treadmill.

  “I meant when we were here,” she says.

  I stop the machine and wipe the sweat off my face. “What happened yesterday?”

  “When we were talking about Bishop Royal.”

  “What’s your fascination with him?” I ask, my anger rising. I don’t get it, she has a bona fide BMX champion right in front of her, but for some reason she’s caught up on Bishop fucking Royal.

  “No fascination, I just want to know why you hate him so much.”

  “Why, though? I don’t get it. I told you why I hate him, and yet here we are, still going over this shit.” I head over to one of the benches so I can do some light arm weights.

  “I’m just trying to figure you out, that’s all,” she says as she follows me.

  I stop what I’m doing and look at her. “I thought you hated me.”

  She scoffs. “If I hated you, why would I be helping you?”

  “The first day we met, what changed?” I ask. I’m genuinely interested in her answer.

  She sighs. “Okay, so you might have had a point with the whole He-Man Woman Hater thing.”

  I stop my crunches and raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  She shifts uncomfortably and runs a hand over her now bright blue and green hair. “I have—” She swallows. “I’ve had a bad history with guys. Sometimes I can come across as hostile.”

  “Oh, darlin’, hostile is one thing. When we met, you were glacial.”

  She nods. “That’s fair.”

  “So let me get this straight,” I say as I straddle the workout bench I’m sitting on. “You’ve a bad history with guys, so why are you being so nice to me?”

  She shrugs and plays with her hair again. “I don’t know. I saw something in you and it called to me to help you.”

  “I don’t want your pity,” I tell her, gritting my teeth.

  “It’s not pity,” she says, “it’s…. I don’t know, I guess I can sort of relate to what you’re going through.”

  “You totally ate shit at the Extreme Games and made an arse of yourself too?” I ask.

  “No, but I understand recovering from injuries inflicted by something you love,” she says. Her eyes are downcast and her body language has changed. She’s closed off, arms wrapped around her torso, hugging tight. It’s almost as if she’s protecting herself, but from what? It’s clear to me now that there’s a lot more to Nurse Bentley than I first thought.

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, intrigued. She nods and bites her lip. “Want to tell me about it?”

  She takes a breath and looks around, seemingly realising where we are. “Do you want to get out of here?” she asks. I raise an eyebrow. “Not like that. I just, I don’t feel like doing this here.”

  I nod and go to get up—and stumble.

  “It’s still not better?” she asks, hovering over me.

  I shrug. “It comes and goes. I think I may have overdone it on the treadmill.”

  “Has your doctor—”

  “The doc says it’ll take time,” I say, talking over her. “Sometimes it’s there, other times it leaves me—just like everything else,”
I add, under my breath.

  “Come on.” She offers me her hand. “Let’s get out of here.” I let her help me up and follow her to the car park. “Do you want to follow me?” she asks.

  “Where are we going?”

  “My place.”

  My dick strains at my shorts at the thought. Hey, we may be friends and I might still be suffering the effects of a concussion, but that doesn’t mean I’m dead. I swallow roughly. “I’ll, er, follow you,” I tell her.

  I hop into Mav’s car that he lets me borrow and follow Bentley back to her place. I’m still taking it easy when it comes to driving, even though it’s not in my nature to take things slowly. I will, though, as I don’t want this privilege taken from me. Public transport in some areas on the Gold Coast is practically non-existent, and I don’t want to burden Mav with my comings and goings. Or just goings; there hasn’t been a coming for me in a while. In fact, I think this might be my longest dry spell since I lost my virginity when I was fourteen. So with all the care and attention of an eighty-year-old, I follow Bentley to a bungalow right on the dunes at Nobby Beach.

  I whistle as I get out of the car. “Nice place,” I say, taking in the weatherboard structure. On the outside the house isn’t much, but I know, given its location, it’d be worth more than a pretty penny.

  “Thanks,” she says as she walks to the front door.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, how on earth did you afford this?”

  She shrugs. “It belonged to my grandparents. They bought it in the fifties and left it to me when they died.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I mumble.

  “It’s okay. They were good people, led good lives. You want anything?” she asks as she moves into the kitchen.