Page 62 of Tactical Revival

“That’s so kind.”

“It was. And for someone like me who’d never had a functional family, it felt—warm. Like home. This is delicious, by the way.”

I return his smile and take a bit of my own food. “It really is. Plumbing emergency and all.”

Jaxson’s grin spreads, and my stomach fills with butterflies. He’s so handsome. So kind. Why couldn’t I have met him before Chad?

But then I wouldn’t have Matty. And I wouldn’t trade my son for anything.

I can, however, be grateful that God brought Jaxson to me now.

Even if it’s for no reason other than friendship.

CHAPTER 17

Jaxson

The amount of anger I feel knowing Chad ever put his hands on Margot far surpasses everything I have ever felt.

I want to hunt him down.

Make him hurt.

Even as I know vengeance is not mine.

So I take a deep breath and drive the conversation in another direction, all while silently vowing to always protect this woman and her son. I steal a glance at her now, looking absolutely gorgeous despite the bruises on her face and the stress she’s under.

How does she manage to look so put together when I feel like I’m falling apart?

“So, you know a lot about me and my family,” Margot says, then takes a bite of her bread. Does she know how stunning she looks? Even sitting here in sweats and a baggy T-shirt, she looks just as gorgeous as she did in that sunflower dress, covered in water, flustered and frustrated. “Can you tell me about yours?”

Her question is like a bucket of cold water. “It’s not a great story,” I reply honestly. “My mom never really wanted my brother and I, so after my drunken father bailed on us, she drove us to a homeless shelter and left us.”

Margot’s expression turns horrified. “She did what? Are you serious? That’s horrible!”

“It was,” I agree. “I managed to keep my brother and I out of the system by working odd jobs and stealing food when we had no money to afford it. We ate leftover scraps from restaurant kitchens and slept wherever we could find a place.”

“Jaxson.”

The way she says my name soothes a bit of the pain that has followed me all of my life. That feeling of being unwanted, the feeling that Rosalie only cemented by leaving me. For a long time, I didn’t understand why I was so unlovable. What was so wrong with me. I can’t even count the number of times I laid in a dark alley, holding onto my brother to keep him warm, while silently sobbing. “We survived. My brother is married now with a baby on the way. He has a good, steady job, and managed to get into college. It all worked out.”

“But at what sacrifice?” She reaches across the table and covers my hand the same way I covered hers. “I am so sorry you went through that.”

I swallow hard, then turn my hand to hold hers. It just feels so right. Like this woman was made for me, and I for her. Like I was born to love her. To protect her. To cherish her. “It all turned out okay. And it took me a long time to realize that I wasn’t alone. Even when I thought I was.”

“You have always been perfectly loved,” she replies.

“Which was a great thing to realize for a man who felt unlovable.”

“You’re not unlovable,” she says quickly, her gaze holding mine. “You just didn’t find the right person.”

“Neither did you,” I reply.

I could lean around the table and kiss her. It’s small enough that it would take very little effort to touch my lips to hers. And I want to so badly. I’m desperate to know what her mouth would feel like on mine.

Is this the woman? The one I was always supposed to find?

An alarm shrieks, pulling us apart. I jump to my feet, then reach behind me and close my hand to the firearm at my back. “What is that?”

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