Chapter 11 Jax
JAX
Iwant to hunt down Sloane’s mother and have a very firm conversation about what support means.
Sitting here, I watch Sloane process that phone call and see doubt creep back into her eyes.
It takes everything in me not to grab her phone and tell her mother exactly what I think about suggesting she go back to a man who cheated on her.
But that’s not my place. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Are you okay?” I ask, even though I know she’s not.
She’s staring at the Monopoly board like it holds the answers to all her problems. “I don’t know. Am I being crazy? Am I overreacting?”
“No.” My voice comes out harder than I intend. “Absolutely not. Your ex cheated. That’s not something you work through in couples therapy. That’s not a misunderstanding. That’s a betrayal.”
“But nine years—”
I hate that her mother is now making her second-guess her decision.
“Even if it was ninety years.” I reach out and tilt her chin up, making her look at me.
“The amount of time invested doesn’t mean you have to stay in something that makes you unhappy.
And I know what it’s like to feel obligated to something just because you’ve put time into it.
My dad wanted me to be a cop like him. I spent two years in the police academy trying to make him happy before I finally admitted I wanted to work in the mountains, not fight crime. ”
“How did he take it?”
“Terribly. Didn’t talk to me for ages.” I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “But eventually he came around. He realized I was good at what I do. That I’m happy. And now? He’s my biggest supporter.”
“So, you’re saying my mom will come around?”
“I’m saying your mom loves you and wants what’s best for you. She’s just confused right now about what that is. But you’re not. You know what you need to do.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, her dark eyes searching mine. “How are you so sure about everything?”
“I’m not sure about everything.” I pull her into my lap, and she comes willingly, tucking herself against my chest. “But I’m sure about this. About you deserving better. About you being strong enough to choose yourself.”
“What about this?” she whispers. “Are you sure about that?”
My chest tightens. Because the truth is, I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. But I also saw the hesitation in her eyes this morning. The fear. And I can’t push her. Can’t make her feel like she’s jumping from one relationship into another without processing the first.
“I’m sure that I want to try,” I say carefully.
“I’m sure that what we have here is real, not just the storm talking.
But, Sloane? If you need time, if you need space to figure out who you are without him first, I’ll understand.
I don’t want to be a rebound. I don’t want to be the guy you run to because you’re trying to forget someone else. ”
She pulls back to look at me, and there are tears in her eyes. “You’re not a rebound, Jax.”
“How do you know?”
“Because when I think about going back to Denver, when I think about what my life looks like now, you’re in it. Not because I’m trying to replace Chett, but because I can’t imagine not knowing you. Not having you in my life.” She takes a shaky breath. “That terrifies me. But it’s true.”
Something in my chest cracks wide open. “Sloane ...”
“I know I’m a mess. I know I have a lot to figure out. But I meant what I said earlier, but I’m scared.”
“I’m scared too,” I admit. “Terrified, actually. Because the idea of you going back to Denver and me never seeing you again, that’s not something I want to think about.”
“Then don’t.” She leans up and kisses me, soft and sweet. “Don’t think about it. Not today. Today, let’s just ... be.”
And fuck, I want that. Want to forget about phone calls from judgmental mothers and ex-boyfriends who don’t deserve her, and the fact that in a day or two, the roads will clear, and reality will come crashing back in.
So, I do what she asks. I stop thinking.
I stand up, lifting her with me, and carry her to the bedroom.
She doesn’t protest, just wraps her legs around my waist and buries her face in my neck.
When I lay her down on the bed, I take a moment to just look at her.
Hair spread across the pillow, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with want and something deeper. Something that makes my heart pound.
“What?” she asks, a small smile playing at her lips.
“Just memorizing this,” I tell her honestly. “In case I need it later.”
“You’ll have the real thing later.”
“Promise?”
“I’m going to try my hardest to make that happen.” She tries to reassure me. It’s not a guarantee. But it’s something. And right now, I’ll take it.
I make love to her slowly this time. Not the desperate, hungry sex of before.
Not the playful fun of yesterday. This is something else entirely.
This is me showing her, without words, what she means to me.
How much I want this to work. How I see her, really see her, and think she’s incredible.
I start by kissing every inch of her face.
Her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks.
She giggles at first, but then her breathing changes, deepens.
“Jax ...”
“Shh. Let me take care of you.”
I work my way down, taking my time with her neck, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat.
I can feel her pulse racing under my lips, and it makes me want to go slower, draw this out even more.
When I finally get her shirt off, I worship her breasts with my mouth until she’s arching off the bed, her fingers tangled in my hair.
“Please.” She gasps. “I need more.”
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
I strip off the rest of her clothes and then my own, and when I settle between her thighs, she’s already wet and ready for me.
But I don’t rush. Don’t dive in. Instead, I kiss her deeply, thoroughly, while my hands explore every curve of her body.
Learning her all over again. Committing it to memory.
“You’re killing me,” she breathes against my mouth.
“Good. I want you to remember this. Remember how I make you feel.”
“Like I’m the only person in the world,” she whispers.
“You are. Right now, you are.” And then I’m pushing inside her, slow and steady, and we both gasp at the connection.
She feels perfect around me, hot and tight and absolutely right.
I start to move, setting a rhythm that’s deep and measured.
Not trying to rush us to the finish line.
Just enjoying the journey. Enjoying her.
Her hands slide down my back, her nails dig in slightly, and I love the small sting of it. Love that she’s marking me.
“Look at me,” I murmur, and her eyes flutter open. “Keep your eyes on me.” We move together like that, eyes locked, and it’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced. More than just physical. This is soul deep.
“Jax,” she breathes. “I’m close.”
“I know. I can feel it.” I reach between us, finding that spot that makes her cry out. “Let go for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you.”
She comes with my name on her lips, her body tightening around me, and it’s so intense, so perfect, that I follow her over almost immediately, burying myself deep. For a long moment, we just stay like that, connected, breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync.
Finally, I pull out carefully and roll onto my back, pulling her against my side. She comes willingly, draping herself across my chest, her leg thrown over mine.
“That was ...” She trails off.
“Yeah,” I agree. “It was.”
We lay in comfortable silence, and I can feel something settling between us. Something solid and real and terrifying in the best way.
“Jax?” she says quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making me feel like I matter. Like I’m worth fighting for.
” She lifts her head to look at me. “Chett never made me feel that way. Even before the cheating, I always felt like I was trying to earn his love. Like I had to be perfect to deserve him. But with you ... I don’t feel that way. I just feel ... seen.”
My chest tightens painfully. “You are seen, Sloane. All of you. The messy parts, the scared parts, the strong parts. And I like all of it.”
She smiles, but there are tears in her eyes. “How are you real?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” I wipe away a tear that’s escaped.