Page 93 of Nothing To Lose
“JAX,” he says softly.
“I didn’t know what you were going to call it officially,” I explain quickly. “I just… I wanted something to put on the mockups, and that felt right.”
He blinks hard and pulls me back into his arms, hugging me like the gesture alone can say everything he’s feeling.
“It's perfect. You're a genius! You have no idea what this means to me.”
"You really like it?"
“Kitten,” he murmurs, “I love it. I love you.”
I grin into his shoulder. For the first time in days, the world feels like it’s clicking back into place.
It’s still a long road ahead.
But this time, we’re walking it together.
EPILOGUE- ISAAC
One Year Later
It’s been exactly a year.
I’m standing in the alley behind the gym, just behind the dumpster, where the world tilted sideways and everything changed.
The morning air is crisp, and the breeze carries the faint scent of coffee and pastries fromThe Nook. A few blocks away, someone’s car alarm chirps. Somewhere closer, a bird sings like nothing ever went wrong here.
But I remember.
I remember Tyler’s blood on the pavement. The heaviness of his body. The way my heart stuttered before kicking into high gear. I remember thinking he might die before I even knew his last name. I remember shaking as I held pressure to his head and waited for help to arrive. The sleepless night in the emergency room when I couldn't bear to leave him there alone. I think I knew then that I'd found something—someone—that mattered more than anything.
I almost lost him before I ever had him.
And I almost lost him again, months later, when everything fell apart. Those memories stay with me. They remind me every single day how lucky I am.
It’s crazy to think that was only a year ago. It feels like a lifetime and a single breath all at once. Like something that lives in my bones and haunts my sleep.
He still has nightmares sometimes. Still avoids walking alone at night. But we’re healing.
Life is good.
Mom and Chelsey live closer now, just a few miles out of town. Chelsey transferred to a clinic that partners with the hospital running the chronic pain trials, and Mom was accepted into the program late last year. The medication isn’t perfect, some kind of nerve blocker that needs frequent adjustment, but it’s helping. She has more good days now. Days when she comes to hang out at the gym with us or joins us for Sunday brunches atThe Nook, teasing Tyler like she’s known him his whole life.
Brenna moved off to college last fall. She’s thriving. I'm pretty sure Tyler’s already scheming to offer her a job once she finishes her marketing degree.
Mac and Anders miss her like crazy, but they're keeping busy, as always. They just had their grand re-opening. The space next door to them, which used to be a vape shop, opened up, and now they have a whole courtyard. Outdoor seating, fairy lights, local artists playing acoustic sets. We go every Friday night for live music, and every Sunday for brunch. It’s tradition now. Like family dinner, only with the best pancakes you’ve ever had.
The gym took off faster than I ever imagined. Not long after word started spreading about JAX Defense & MMA, we got a notice that the ordinances affecting our building had been reversed. We still don’t know who pulled the strings. Maybe local business owners saw past the gossip and realized I wasn’t the monster I’d been painted to be. Or maybe Talon made a quiet call and fixed the disaster he helped create. Either way, we didn’t have to pay the extra fifteen grand. That, combined with the fundraiser’s success, gave us the space to breathe. The chance to build something real.
We launched at the spring fair, and the support poured in. Tyler’s crowd-funding campaign did more than raise money—it brought people into the fold. His designs gave the gym a face, a story. People walked in because of him, but they stayed because of what we were building together. What mattered most was how it brought people together. They showed up for us, trained with us, brought their kids, told their neighbors. We didn’t just open a gym—we built a family.
We’ve got a kid named Mateo who can climb the rope wall faster than any adult here. Miss Frankie brings her grandkids every Wednesday and bakes cookies for the front desk like it’s a family reunion. Reggie from the hardware store, who swore he was too old for this, signed up for his second sparring match next month. They’re not just clients. They’re ours.
Tyler’s been helping me teach weekly self-defense classes for therapy groups—people who’ve survived abuse or trauma. It’s heavy work, but it matters. And seeing him lead parts of the sessions, watching how people listen when he speaks makes me proud in a way I can’t describe.
Now, we’re looking ahead. We’ve started looking into expanding. There’s talk of opening a second facility. One designed specifically as a ninja warrior-style obstacle gym for kids. We want it to be a place that teaches strength and balance, but also confidence. Resilience. We’ve already had parents asking when we’re opening registration. It’s exciting. And a little terrifying. But we’re ready for it.
I don’t know where we’ll be in five years. Maybe we’ll have that second gym up and running. Maybe we’ll have a dozen kids in the ninja course every day and enough staff for me to take a real day off now and then. Maybe not. But wherever we are, I hope we’re still waking up tangled together. Still chasing each other through doors. Still choosing each other every damn day.
