Page 15 of Jax

* * *

“You’re late,” I seethed.

The fence was beginning to dig into the muscles of my ass as I glowered down at the brunette, perching her hands on her hips and dropping open that loud mouth of hers.

“Five minutes isn’t late,” Ronnie snapped back.

I had yet to see her usual vigor and I couldn’t decide how I felt about that. Ronnie had been a smart mouth from hell with a bad attitude to accompany it, and in the last few days I’d seen her, I couldn’t ignore the massive change.

She’d become meeker. At first, I thought she was being cautious seeing me again after so many years, but now I could see it was a conditioned part of her personality. She was more like a mature woman, nothing like the wild, bullheaded kid I’d known.

“It’s five minutes later than you should have been here. Thus, you’re late, Ronnie,” I countered.

“That’s another thing,” she said, ignoring me. “It’s Veronica, not Ronnie.”

That surprised me. I looked down at her with wide eyes before letting them pinch into a scowl. “You hate being called Veronica.”

“Times have changed,Jax,” she growled. I wouldn’t deny that it made my chest rumble. Not loud enough for her to hear, though. The urge to tie her up and make her apologize for offending my treasured road name by comparing it to her own crappy reasons was almost overwhelming.

“Don’t even,” she seethed. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I know that look. I’m not some petulant child, and you don’t get to decide what matters and what doesn’t.” Ronnie turned with her hands fisted by her side and made a point of moving a few fences up from where I was sitting next to the second post.

I watched her long legs stomp away and her arm prop up in a huff on top of the fence, her eyes peering through.

I knew the moment she caught sight of Max. Her anger was forgotten, and I saw every part of her soften. She leaned against the fence as if all the strength in her swept out at the sight of her broken friend.

Max was no longer hiding in one corner of her pasture or pacing up and down a single side. Instead, she laid down by the hay bales, bathing in the sunlight on the soft grass and hadn’t even stirred when Ronnie pulled up in her noisy-ass truck.

“She seems happier today,” Ronnie breathed, a gentle smile overtaking her face. Transforming her sharp, quiet features, it seemed to relieve her face of some of the maturity that had been constructed over it. It was reassuring somehow.

Dragging my eyes away from her, I looked down to the dirt, shaking my head. I hopped off the fence, my boots hitting the dry ground and scattering a few stones. “Happier isn’t the word I’d use,” I said, glancing over at the pasture where Max was looking in my and Ronnie’s direction, following our movements. I ignored her and walked to the barn. “But it’s time for us to start.”

It doesn’t just affect her, either….

“Come on, Ronnie,” I called, keeping my eyes pinned to the barn in front of me.

“I said it was Veronica!” Ronnie’s voice snapped from behind me. “Ve-Ron-I-Ca!”

“Yes, Yes, Ronnie,” I said back. “I heard you.”

I heard her growl, but she gave up with a sigh and few breathy grumbles that would make even Anna blink twice. I had to fight the twitch on my lips.

* * *

It was after watching her fail for the fifth time trying to tie a Honda knot that I couldn’t stop the remark. “You’ve lost your touch.” It came out a little teasing and Ronnie’s confused frown became instantly annoyed.

“I have not,” she snapped. “Your rope is just crap.”

It was the first clear curse word I’d heard from her all week, and I couldn’t help the snicker.

“Stop laughing,” she growled out.

“I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.” Ronnie’s hands tugged at the rope in frustration as she tried to untangle the mess she’d made. When it didn’t budge, she let go of it and watched it hit the floor with a hiss.

I was about to laugh at her, then stopped myself when I saw her anger disappear like the flick of a switch as she hurried to pick up the rope and stand up so straight that I thought her spine would break. I was so taken aback by her response, I was certain she noticed it because whatever expression had been on her face as she retreated behind the mature mask that I was certain she had been crafting for a long while. “Sorry,” she whispered, looking back down at her rope.

“Why are you apologizing?” I growled, the sound of it coming out a hell of a lot less demanding than I felt. I could see the conditioning of her schooled reaction, and I didn’t like the feelings seeing that gave me. Her lack of reaction was unnatural, and it sure as fuck wasn’t Ronnie.

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