Page 34 of Tactically Tied

“And what about us?” he shot back, his eyes darkening. “What about the life we’re supposed to be building? The home, the family?”

Jami felt her anger rise, a wave of heat rushing through her. “You mean the life where I give up everything I’ve ever dreamed of to fit into your perfect little picture?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying I want a life with you. Here. Together.”

She took a step back, her heart breaking a little with every word. “No, what you want is to control me, to keep me here because it’s what you want. You’re not thinking about what I need.”

Jed opened his mouth to respond, but the words died on his lips. He looked around them, his eyes catching on the faces of the townspeople watching, their curious gazes flickering with interest and concern. The cameras were gone, but the neighbors were very much present.

“Jami,” he said more softly, trying to reach her, trying to calm the storm between them. “Let’s go home. We can talk about this, just the two of us.”

She shook her head, her throat tightening as the reality of the situation settled around her. “I am going home. To my family’s house.”

She turned on her heel, pushing through the crowd that had gathered, ignoring the whispered conversations and the concerned looks from familiar faces. Her vision blurred as she stormed out of Grits and Grub, the door slamming shut behind her.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Jed scrubbed the stainless steel counter with a fury that could have peeled the shine off it. His muscles strained with every movement, his knuckles white as he gripped the sponge. The kitchen was empty, silent but for the harsh sound of his scrubbing and the occasional clatter of utensils he had already scoured twice over. It was after hours, and Grits and Grub was closed. The staff had long since gone home, leaving him alone with his anger, his frustration, and his heartbreak.

The scent of bleach and cleaning drowned out the lingering aroma of barbecue and spices. The kitchen that usually brought him comfort now felt cold, sterile. As if it, too, was reflecting the emptiness he felt inside. Jed scrubbed harder, his movements jerky, precise, as if he could clean away the mess his life had become.

He heard the kitchen door swing open but didn't look up. He knew who it was. Noah’s footsteps were heavy, deliberate. Jed was about to get a lecture, and he wasn't in the mood.

"You gonna keep scrubbing that counter until you wear it down to the metal, or are you gonna go after her?"

Jed didn’t stop scrubbing. He pressed his lips together, his jaw tightening. "Not tonight. She’s run from me at least twice today. If she wants me, she’ll have to come to me."

"Jed..." Noah began, but before he could finish, the door swung open again, and Fish entered, his eyes scanning the spotless kitchen with a raised brow.

It was strange, but over the last few weeks, Jed had noticed something about Noah and Fish. They were starting to resemble their wives—the way a pet and its owner sometimes took on each other’s traits.

Fish, who’d always been a giant of a man, looked even bigger now, but his hard edges had softened. His smile lines had deepened, mirroring the warm, easy smiles of his wife. Once, Fish had been all silent strength, but now there was something more inviting in his expression, a reflection of the light that Jules brought into his life.

And Noah—Noah had always been direct, almost as direct as Jacqui’s sharp glare used to be. But now, even Jacqui’s once-piercing gaze had softened. She looked at the world with the same openness Noah had always carried in his eyes, as if his warmth had seeped into her over time. The change in them was subtle but unmistakable.

Jed let out a low grunt. He’d never been the type to let someone else change him—not like that. Yet, staring at these two men, it hit him just how much their lives had intertwined with their wives’. They weren’t just married to Jules and Jacqui; they had become part of them.

"So what's the plan?" Fish asked.

"He's waiting for her to come to her senses," Noah answered.

"You do know you married a Chou woman, right?" Fish's voice was matter-of-fact as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

Jed rounded on him, throwing the sponge into the sink with a splash of soapy water. "She married a Winchester. I may have used trickery to get her, but my feelings for her have always been honest. I've bent for her, twisted myself into knots, trying to give her what she wants. I’ve compromised on things I swore I never would. I altered my family's secret sauce for her."

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the kitchen like a caged animal. "And what does she do? She runs. She calls me controlling, but she won’t give an inch. Not for me. How am I supposed to live like that? How can we build anything together if she won’t meet me halfway?"

Noah took a cautious step forward. "So what, you’re just gonna let her leave? Let her run off to God knows where with that slick producer?"

Jed slumped against the counter, his hands bracing on the edge as he bowed his head. The last thing he wanted was for Jami to leave. The thought of her packing her bags, boarding a plane, and disappearing from his life was like a knife twisting in his gut.

He had married her, yes, under less than traditional circumstances, but he loved her. More than anything. More than his restaurant, more than the small-town life he had envisioned. She was his dream now, and the thought of losing her... it was unbearable.

But he couldn’t force her to stay. She had to choose him, just like he had chosen her. This wasn’t about a bet or a competition anymore. This was about their future.

"She has to choose me. She has to want this... want us. If she can’t give up just a little bit of that independence for us, then what are we doing?"

Noah opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. There was nothing he could say that Jed didn't already know. This was a battle between love and independence, between the life they could have together and the dreams Jami wasn’t willing to let go of.

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