Page 106 of Jax

I was hiding in the house of my first love, pretending that I didn’t have a shadow following me. Pretending that this was what I could have.

Jax was water slipping through my fingers.

Nothing I could do would keep him beside me.

Not if he’d known what I had done.

“Ronnie?”

I jerked, the ring almost falling out of my hand as I shoved it back in the drawer and buried it deep beneath my underwear. I shoved the drawer shut with a slam and wiped away the tears before facing him.

Water dripped from his hair and face, and my eyes traced the droplets falling down his crafted muscles.

Like water….

“Hey, wake up!” Jax’s fingers snapped in front of my eyes.

I whipped my head up at the sound. His puzzled gaze stared me down. “What’s up?” His hand reached forward, capturing my chin in a smooth movement, his thumb following its movement across the breadth of my face. “Were you crying?”

“Crying?” I scoffed, shoving his hand away. “Why would I be crying?”

“Your eyes look a little swollen,” Jax grumbled, his pushed away hand still held in the air. He retracted it back into the cocoon of his chest.

“It’s hot in here. I must just be flushed.” I shrugged, grabbing a handful of clothes and heading into the bathroom. Before he could ask any more questions, I shut the door behind me.

The humid air from Jax’s shower engulfed me, my feet wet against the tiles from his footprints. My eyes, swollen and dry, wept at the moisture as I sank down onto the damp tile floor. Its cool touch bled into my chilled, goose-bumped skin. I pulled my knees closer, my arms wrapping around the bare skin, and dropped my nose between the crack in my legs and sighed.

The weight of what had brought me here in the first place was like a heavy jacket, smothering and overwhelming.

Like a tree can never be rid of its roots, I will never be rid of my past.

“What do I do, Momma?” I whispered into the air and waited.

No reply came.

I sighed once more and leant back against the closed door.

I could hear the soft sounds of Jax’s feet pattering around the bedroom, throwing clothes on the floor, and making a mess.

“Ron.” Jax knocked on the door.

“Yeah?” I jerked up from the door, clambering back to my feet once more.

“Where’s my cut?”

“How the hell should I know?” I grunted, reaching for the handle to pull it open a crack.

A pout poked through the gap, followed by his damp, curled hair and wary brown eyes. “You were the one who ripped it off of me.”

“So?” I shrugged. “It’s not like you were protesting.”

Jax smirked. “I certainly wasn’t.” His deep brown eyes perused the glimpse of my scantily dressed body. “But it would still help if you remembered where you stripped me.”

“You dog,” I grumbled under my breath, before wielding my palm and slapping it against his forehead. I gave a hard shove, and the intruding head was pushed back into its boundaries. “Good luck finding your jacket,” I called before giving the door a nice slam and a flick of the lock.

A loud grumble followed the noise and I couldn’t suppress the smile pulling at my lips.

That heavy weight that sat on my chest wasn’t gone, but that small interaction felt like a part of my burden had lifted. I didn’t feel so claustrophobic and all it took was less than a minute of bickering to free myself.

---