Chapter 14 #2
Willow finally asks, "You really have no idea what Jax wants?"
I shake my head. "No. You don't either?"
"Nope." She cautiously glances at me, inquiring, "When did you talk to him last?"
The pit in my stomach grows. I grind my molars, breathing for a few moments, and then I answer, "A couple of years ago. We were up in Montana."
"And?" she pushes.
"I don't want to talk about it," I state, then turn to look out the window.
She scoffs. "You're really something else."
I look back at her. "What does that mean?"
She keeps her hands tightly gripped on the wheel. "It means that whenever anything gets tough, you run or you don't talk about it. You hide from it."
I grunt. "Where's this coming from?"
She huffs. "Really?"
"I'm not looking to fight, Willow. Let's not talk right now," I assert, leaning back in my seat and tipping my cowboy hat over my face.
"Freaking typical," she mutters.
I remain silent, trying to calm the shaking inside me. My last encounter with Jax is as fresh as if it were yesterday. No matter how much I try to push it away, I can't.
His wrinkled, sun-worn face is clear as day in my mind. The disappointment in his expression as he wags his finger at me. His crackling voice announcing, "We're done. Don't ever reach out to me again."
The more I try to push it away, the more insistent it becomes. Hurt and guilt eats at me.
The car slows, and I peek out from under my cowboy hat. As the gate comes into view, I put my seat back up and adjust my hat on my head.
Memories of thousands of practice sessions and hours spent on the ranch pummel me. It's bittersweet, and as much as I want to lean into it, I also want to run.
Willow parks where we always used to. I get out of the SUV, and she jumps out before I can come around and open her door.
Jax is on the porch, leaning against a post, finishing his cigarette. He snubs it out, curls his fingers in the air, and orders, "Let's talk inside." He turns, opens the door, and disappears before we get there.
I grit my teeth and close my fist, wishing I could redo a lot of things in my past, but I can't. I never thought I'd hear from the old man again. When he gave up on me, it wasn't with an emotional statement one could take back. It was a true declaration and position of finality.
Which is why this is so nerve-racking. Plus, I don't like not knowing why he insisted on Willow being here, even if I do like getting to spend time with her.
I motion for Willow to go first. She stomps past me up the stairs, and I follow. We step inside.
Jax stands in his kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. He locks eyes with Willow. "Darlin', how have you been?"
"I'm good," she says in a neutral tone, the questions I'm sure she has, barely being held back.
"Coffee?" he offers.
"No, thanks."
He finishes pouring the hot liquid into the mug, takes a few sips while staring at me, then finally sets it down.
"Wyatt. Didn't know you were going to be in town."
"That makes two of us," I drawl.
He points at the table. "Let's sit down."
My anxiety gets worse, but I don't argue with him. I pull a seat out for Willow, but she ignores it and selects another one.
I sit next to her and direct my question to Jax. "What's this about?"
"Glad we're going to avoid the niceties," Jax quips.
I bark, "Sorry. Did you want them?"
"Wyatt!" Willow scolds.
"What? He brought us here, and now he wants to play games. I don't have time for this," I argue.
A quiet laugh rumbles from his chest.
"Glad we can amuse you," I mumble.
A wicked grin curls his lips.
"Cut the games, Jax. Why are we here?"
"Wyatt," Willow reprimands again.
I glance at her, insisting, "I'm not a kid anymore. He needs to tell us why we're here." I pin Jax with a challenging gaze. "Spit it out. I've got work to do."
He arches his eyebrow. "Oh? What work is that?"
Embarrassment and shame wash over me. I try not to let it show, but my defenses rise. I snarl, "Is this what this is? You're going to rub it in my face that you know I'm in a bad situation with my career?"
He grunts. "No, I'm going to offer you an opportunity."
"What do you mean?"
His wicked grin pulls wider, slow as honey and twice as dangerous.
It tugs at one side of his mouth first, trying to hold back.
Then, it spreads, full and cocky; the kind of smile that knows it's trouble.
His eyes glint, sharp and steady, like he's got all the time in the world to wreck your plans and enjoy every second of it.
I force myself not to shift in my seat. My pulse bangs against my brain.
He says, "The way I see it, you don't have any options right now."
"Once again, you don't need to state the obvious," I growl.
He points at me. "That mouth of yours has always gotten you in trouble."
I take my cowboy hat off and put it on the table, then run my hand through my hair. "Jax, what is it that you want?"
He leans closer. The rasp in his voice grits deeper. "It's not what I want. It's what I'm going to offer."
The hairs on my arms rise. I clench my jaw, cross my arms, and sit back. I put my ankle over my knee, cautiously asking, "And what would that be?"
Arrogantly, he states, "Well, Willow owes me a favor."
My head jerks toward her. "Why do you owe him a favor?"
"None of your business," she hisses.
"It is my business, so explain," I declare.
"No, it's not your business," she insists.
I turn back toward Jax. "Explain."
"Seems like the little lady doesn't want you to know her business. I'd rather we keep it between her and me." He winks at her.
I curl my fists tight. "I swear to God…"
He holds up his hand. "Calm down."
I take a few breaths, waiting.
He doesn't answer, the tension growing.
I finally slam my fist on the table. "Tell me whatever it is you want, Jax. I'm not into your games. Why am I here?"
"Ah, that's what I wanted to see."
"What are you talking about?"
"I wanted to see if you still had it in you."
"Had what in me?" I firmly demand.
He drawls, "The drive. The fire. The thing that makes you a bull rider."
"Of course I have what makes me a bull rider. Why wouldn't I?" I question, stepping into his trap.
"Well, you've made some dumb choices lately. Makes me think you don't want to be a rider anymore," he claims.
"Okay, I'm done here." I rise and move toward the door.
"Get back here," Jax orders.
I whip around. "I don't take orders from you anymore, old man."
"Sit down," he asserts in his no-nonsense tone.
I stay where I am.
"Wyatt, sit down," Willow softly orders.
I glance at her.
"Please, sit down," she says, and points at the chair.
I still don't move. My heart pounding, I press her for an answer. "I want to know why you owe him a favor."
She sighs, confessing, "He helped me solidify my last big rider. I told him I'd owe him one, that's it."
I don't speak. I don't like her owing anybody anything, and especially not Jax. Once, I had nothing but good feelings and respect for him, but now, I'm not so sure.
"Sit down so I can tell you why you're both here," he demands.
I don't look at him, continuing to stare at Willow.
"Please, just sit down," she says, exasperated.
I realize that as much as I want to leave, I'm also curious about what he wants from me, and especially Willow. So, begrudgingly, I move back to the table and take a seat.