Page 23 of The Players Next Door

"Thank you," she murmurs against my shoulder. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

I pull back just enough to look into her eyes. "You don't have to go through this alone, Holly. Whatever it is, we'll face it together."

She nods, tears spilling over and streaming down her cheeks. And then, to my surprise, she leans in and gives me a sweet, lingering kiss. It's gentle and tender, filled with all the emotions she's been holding back.

When we finally pull apart, she gives me a small, watery smile. "You’re amazing, Jax. I don’t know what I did to deserve you."

I smile back, brushing a tear from her cheek. "We’re in this together, remember? Now, let’s sit down and enjoy this dinner. And whenever you're ready, I'm here to listen."

She nods again, a little more at ease now. We sit down at the table, and I can see the walls she’s built around herself starting to crumble. It might take time, but we’ll get through this. Together.

I clear the last of the dishes, the clink of cutlery a sharp contrast to the silence that's settled over us. The guys are lounging on the couches, but it's like we're all holding our breaths, waiting for something to snap. Cameron's gaze flits between Holly and me, his green eyes sharp with concern he doesn't voice. Deacon leans back, arms crossed, the shadow in his gray eyes saying that he hears the unspoken questions loud and clear.

She’s here with us, but she’s not. She barely touched her meal, and while she’s answering our questions, she’s not really having a conversation with us. I fucking hate it.

"Okay, what's next?" I ask, trying to sound casual as I toss a crumpled napkin into the trash. "Movie? Game?"

"Actually, I think I'm gonna turn in," Holly says, standing up too fast. Her voice is steady, but her eyes dart away, not meeting mine.

Deacon cocks an eyebrow, but remains silent. Cameron's lips press into a thin line before he nods slowly, giving her an out if she needs it. But I can't let it go, not when every instinct screams that she's not okay. That we’re not okay. I need us to be okay.

"Hey, Hol, got a sec?" I say, touching her elbow lightly. She freezes, then nods, a small frown creasing her forehead.

We step into the quiet hallway, away from the others. It's just us now, and even the air feels heavy.

"Jax, I’m fine," she insists, but her smile is too tight. It doesn't reach those big blue eyes.

"Come on, Hol. You think I can't tell when something's eating at you?" I keep my voice low, trying to break through to her.

She sighs, a lock of blond hair falling into her face. She pushes it back, frustration clear in the way her fingers tremble.

"Jaxon, it’s just been a long day. Let's not do this now."

But I need to know she's all right. I need to see that spark back in her eyes. "Talk to me. Please."

Her gaze flicks to the side, then back to me. She's fighting an internal battle, and damn it, I want to fight it with her. But she has to let me in first.

"Everything's just...complicated." Her voice is barely above a whisper, and I strain to catch her words.

"Life's complicated," I agree, stepping closer. "But we can figure it out together, right?"

"Right," she echoes, but there's a tremor in her voice that tells me her storm isn't passing anytime soon.

"Whatever it is, Holly, you're not alone." I mean every word, and I hope she can see that. “Please, please don’t walk away from this.”

She nods, finally meeting my gaze dead-on. There's a raw honesty there that clenches my heart.

The door creaks open. Cameron's tall frame fills the space, his piercing green eyes flicking from Holly to me. Deacon's right behind him, the dark waves of hair a little tousled, like he's run his hands through it one too many times. There's no missing the worry creasing their brows.

"Everything okay?" Cam's voice is soft but cuts through the tension.

Holly bites her lip but doesn’t say anything. I nod at the guys, silently asking for backup. They get it. They always do.

"Let's sit down," Deacon suggests and it's not an order. It’s more like a lifeline thrown into choppy waters.

We sink onto the couches. Holly's between me and Cameron, her legs curled under her. Deacon perches on the armrest beside me, close but not crowding us.

"Talk to us, Hol." Deacon’s gray eyes lock on hers. Gentle. Steady.

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