“I haven’t stopped thinking about Caleb since I got the call,” she said vehemently. “I’m getting out of here. I’ll bring Caleb by after dinner. Text me if you need anything.” Jax grabbed her jacket and marched out the door. Her footsteps were heavy and angry. She didn’t stop walking until she stepped out into the frigid fresh air. The sun was hidden behind thick gray clouds, and the winter felt like the longest in history.

Jax tugged her leather jacket around her body and walked against the wind. The parking garage was too far away. By the time she made it to her pickup truck, her hands were numb and her cheeks were on fire. She didn’t even have music on in the car, a rarity for her.

She pulled into her designated spot and looked out the window at her apartment building. Her bones ached at the thought of another stroll in the biting wind. She prepared herself and dashed from the car. The heat in her apartment was welcome, first penetrating her bare skin and finally her clothing. She tossed her jacket on the couch and went to her bathroom. Toothpaste, shampoo, floss, and hair products were strewn about her small vanity. A damp towel sat in her sink.

Her entire routine had been thrown off since she was spending most of her days in the hospital. Jax felt her anxious energy building up and longed to exhaust it at the gym, but she knew she didn’t have time for that. If it wasn’t so cold, she could go for a quick run, but she wasn’t going outside voluntarily.

Jax stripped away her layers and stood in her sports bra and boxer briefs. She stared at her reflection in the mirror on her rickety old medicine cabinet. Her eyes were dull and underlined by heavy bags. She opened the cabinet and started to put away the toiletries scattered about. Showering seemed like a daunting task, and Jax knew she was procrastinating with fake tidiness. She was so tired. Jax spun the toothpaste tube between her fingertips. She was thinking of herself and Amanda’s unkind but not untrue words. Jax slammed the cabinet door shut with such force the mirror broke. Shards of glass fell on the counter and shattered.

“Great,” Jax muttered, not at all fazed. “Let’s add seven more years to my bad luck.” She picked up pieces of glass and winced when one pierced her skin. “Son of a bitch!” She held her finger up and watched as the blood formed a trail down to her palm. She wrapped it loosely with toilet paper and finished cleaning up by brushing the debris into the trash. The blood between her fingers turned sticky. Jax got in the shower.

She couldn’t remember when she had showered last. She let the hot water loosen her tense shoulders and neck, and she massaged her body wash into the fatigued muscles of her lower back. She slowly uncoiled and relaxed. When she stepped out of the shower, she felt a bit lighter, but in desperate need of a nap, regardless. She dried as she walked to her bedroom and grabbed some sweats. When she tossed her towel on the bed, she noticed a bloodstain on the cloth. She grimaced at the still-bleeding wound on her hand. She got dressed and walked back to the bathroom in search of a Band-Aid, growing frustrated after looking through every cabinet and drawer. She knew she had bandages somewhere.