Page 225 of The Last Good Man

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MELODY

Jax’s place

Around midnight

His place is the epitome of masculinity with dark floors, a few pieces of furniture propped against white walls, and even fewer decorative objects.

His closet is organized with his suits on one side, and his jeans, boots, and T-shirts on the other.

The fridge is stocked with water, beer, a pint of chocolate ice cream in the freezer, a tray of finger food, a small cream cheese pie, and a slice of chocolate cake.

He’s no longer on a diet. Or he knew I'd be here.The food must be from his sister’s birthday party.

I’m not here to empty his fridge, so I settle for abottle of water.

I read stuff on my phone before getting tired of it, sliding it into my bag, and heading to the shower.

Noah comes to mind as the water rolls over my body.

He was tight-lipped all the way to his brother’s place.

He kept the conversation to a minimum and looked in the rearview mirror way too many times as if we were tailgated.

We weren’t, but he was nervous, and I couldn’t get out much from him, so that was that.

I leave the shower and look for a towel.

Patting my skin dry, I enter his bedroom with a towel around my body.

A floor lamp casts a glow around the nightstand, chair, and large bed in the room.

I turn the lamp off, slide under the covers, and peer outside. With virtually no traffic to distract me, I soon drift off to sleep.

An hour passes before the click of the lock makes me snap my eyes open.

I’m naked under the covers, my hair splayed over the pillows, smelling like him.

“Is that you?” I ask, pushing up onto my elbows.

“Yeah… It’s me.”

His keys clatter against the table in the hallway while I fall back into the pillow.

His voice is even, perhaps tired. Maybe he’s had second thoughts about bringing me here.

It only takes a step in the wrong direction, a moment of hesitation, and we begin to question everything.

He enters the kitchen, and a smell of roasted tomatoes and herbs travels with him.He’s brought food.

Later, he walks into the bedroom, smoothly removing his suit jacket, rolling his sleeves up, and undoing another button at the neckline.

The shirt and pants are dark, contrasting with his watch, rings, and necklace.

He tears his eyes away from mine beforegoing backto his jacket and patting it for a cigarette.

“Want one?” he asks casually.

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