Page 32 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

I turn my head and see Jax beside me, his steady breathing the only thing that anchors me back to reality. His arm is draped around me, his warmth surrounding me like a shield.

I exhale slowly, trying to steady myself, forcing the remnants of the dream away. That must’ve been before the hot chocolate.

My father and mother… they were fighting.

And he was—beating her.

When it was over, when the damage was done, he gave me a cup of hot chocolate. His apology. His attempt to make me forget what I had heard, what I had witnessed. A fucking cup of hot chocolate, as if that could erase the violence that just unfolded in the presence of an innocent child.

But nothing could erase that. Not the way he’d sounded when he yelled. Not the feel of the slap echoing in my ears.

The truth of it makes me close my eyes in… I’m not sure what emotion I’m feeling. Shame? Shame for her—that she was abused by her husband and had to walk around like nothing was happening?

Or is it sorrow because I erased these memories from my mind? Blocked them out, and now it’s like that woman suffered alone. Her husband and her daughter were the only witnesses to her suffering. Her abuser is dead, and her daughter forgot. Now her pain is nothing more than a ghost that whispers in the broken crevices of my mind.

I press my hand to my mouth to stifle the sobs threatening to break free. Jax’s body stirs against mine, his hand tightening around me like he’s sensing my distress.

I turn into Jax and nuzzle against him. The arm around me hugs tighter, and he shifts his leg over mine. I soak in thewarmth of him, his comforting smell, and the strength of his hold.

I let it chase away the memory of the night that sends a shiver down my spine.

I don’t want to think about that man—that monster. I don’t want to think about the father who once made me feel like his treasure, only to break me when I saw him for who he truly was.

As I lie in Jax’s arms, a prisoner of my own memories, I push them back. I build my walls a little higher. The humor that I hide behind, the stubbornness that I pretend protects me from pain—I fortify myself with them so when I wake in the morning, no one will be able to see the truth that’s hidden away within me.

This is the second morning this week I’ve woken up to an empty bed and the smell of bacon. After brushing my teeth and throwing my messy bun together, I pull on Jax’s shirt and head downstairs.

Once again, he’s at the stove, wearing nothing but pants. I run my hands along his corded muscles and hug him from behind, pressing my mouth between his shoulder blades.

He turns around, pulling me into a bruising kiss and grinding his hips into mine. “Fuck me, Peach. You can’t put those lips on me while I’m cooking. I’ll burn your breakfast.”

I bite his lip, pulling it before letting it go. “You could always just feed me your cock for breakfast.” I hop up onto the counter, and he hands me a steaming cup of coffee. “I wouldn’t protest if I were woken up to your award-winning penis sliding into my mouth.”

His smile would seduce the devil. “Noted.”

Enzo rounds the corner, and I nearly pass out when I see him in gray sweats and a too-small T-shirt. I put my hand to mychest, acting like I’m having a heart attack. He rolls his eyes at my reaction, knowing exactly what I’m thinking.

“I half expected your pajamas to be a three-piece suit too.”

“You know what I wear to bed.”

It’s nothing, everyone. He wears nothing to bed.

Enzo reaches around Jax, clearly copping a feel of Jax’s semi, and murmurs, “Mmmm. Someone’s having a good morning.” He kisses Jax’s shoulder. “It smells good in here.”

I raise an eyebrow at their playful exchange, and Enzo shoots me a smirk and a wink before heading to the coffee pot.

“I could think of several things that would make this a much better morning.” Jax leans against the counter, eyeing me while sipping his coffee.

Enzo looks over at him, still pouring a cup for himself, then looks at me. “Luca got rid of the computer and scrambled any trace of our route here last night, so we should be good until we leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I ask.

“We need a new ride, Peach. Our current one might draw a little too much attention.”

Fucking obviously, Delaney. Stop being dense.

“I’m sorry for last night.” Enzo’s deep gray eyes hold me while he stirs his coffee. “We’ve?—”

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