Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
The alley behind Books-N-Brews reeked of stale coffee, damp brick, and poor choices.
Jaxon lingered long after Tazzy left, fixating on the spot where she had been as if he could pull her back just by sheer force of will.
Like if he stared hard enough, he could rewind time.
Back to before the distance, before the hurt, before he became the man she didn’t recognize anymore.
She’d been about to smoke a cigarette. His girl was on the verge of smoking a fucking cigarette. This was the same girl who used to wrinkle her nose at the smell of smoke, who used to lecture him when he’d grab a beer too fast after a workout because “your body deserves better, Jax.”
She used to look at him like he was the damn moon. Now his actions had driven her to the point where she was standing there, trembling as she lifted that cigarette to her lips like it was the only thing holding her together.
His jaw clenched. “Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “That’s not happening.” Not on his watch. Not when he was finally back where he belonged… even if she didn’t want him there.
Whatever this was—this distance, this anger, this wall she’d built between them—he wouldn’t let it stand. Not if he had anything to say about it. And he had a hell of a lot to say. Starting with the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere this time.
Not winning her back wasn’t an option. It simply wasn’t. But right now? Right now, he needed to hit something. Hard. Needed to bleed off the pressure building inside him before it turned into something he couldn’t control.
He pushed off the wall, dragging a hand through his hair, and headed for his bike. A few minutes later, the engine growled to life beneath him. Jaxon took off, letting the roar of his bike drown out everything else.
The road out of town opened up fast, the wind hitting his face, the vibration of his bike grounding him in a way nothing else did. It used to feel like freedom. Now it felt like the only thing keeping him from coming apart.
Everything was different now. That knowledge hit him hard. Darling looked the same. It even felt the same, some of it anyway. But it wasn’t. He wasn’t. Prison had carved pieces out of him, leaving the edges sharp. Now he had steel where there had once been something softer.
His grip tightened on the handlebars. And for a split second, he considered not stopping. Not turning onto the road that led to the Sabre warehouse. Just… going.
He could keep riding, leave Darling behind, and start over somewhere else, a place no one knew his name or his past, or his failures. There would be no expectations or memories to fight against. No Tazzy, looking at him like he’d broken something that couldn’t be fixed.
But that was the deal breaker… no Tazzy. If he thought he could leave again, he was lying to himself. Because if he did that, if he left her again, he’d lose her. And that cost was just too damn high.
“No,” he bit out. Then he leaned into the turn that took him toward Sabre Security. He wasn’t about to give her up again. Not this time. He’d done that once, and if he did it again, he’d regret it every damn day for the rest of his life.
As he gunned his motor and sped toward the warehouse, the memory hit him out of nowhere.
Not that it was the first time, but this time it was intense.
One second, he was on the road. The next, he was back in time with Tazzy.
Back when things were simple. Back when she was his, and he hadn’t screwed it all up.
Eight years ago, it had been a quiet night. He’d taken her out to eat at her favorite restaurant, then driven out past the edge of town. Out where the streetlights faded. The night became soft and still, and they could pretend the world wasn’t complicated. It was just him and the girl he loved.
Tazzy had laughed when he told her to get out of the truck. “What are you doing?” she asked, smiling up at him.
God, her smile. It wrecked him then. It wrecked him now.
Taking her hand, he pulled her from her seat, telling her, “Trust me.”
“I always trust you,” she teased.
And that—that right there—that was the part that gutted him the most. Because now she didn’t. Not anymore.
But he’d never forget the way her eyes had shone brighter than anything in the heavens above them. It was the look she used to give him—open, bright, full of life. It hit him now like a punch to the chest.
He’d taken her hand, leading her a little way out into the clearing.
“Daddy,” she said softly, “what’s going on?”
He turned to face her, his heart pounding, which was ridiculous. He’d faced armed suspects. Led operations. Made calls that could end lives. And this was what had him nervous?
Clearing his throat, he said, “Sprite.”
“Yeah?” Her smile softened, and her eyes shone even brighter. They always did when he used the name he’d given her.
He exhaled slowly. “I’ve got an op tomorrow.”
Her expression shifted. “How long will you be gone?”
“A day. Maybe two.”
Her brows drew together. “That’s it? And then you’ll be back?”
“That’s it.” He stepped closer. “But I wanted to do this before I left.”
“Do what?”
He swallowed. Then he dropped to one knee, holding her tiny hands in his, he said, “Marry me.”
She froze. Then asked, “What?”
He huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. Not exactly smooth.”
“Daddy—”
“I don’t have the ring with me,” he rushed. “I didn’t tell anyone. I just—”
“Jaxon.” She stepped closer.
“I needed you to know,” he said, voice rough. “I’ll do this again and give you the ring when I get back. I promise. Tomorrow. Or the next day at the latest.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re serious?”
“I wouldn’t joke about this, Sprite. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life proving it.”
Her breath hitched for a second. And for that second, he was afraid she would turn him down. Then she reached up, touching his face, and said, “Yes, Daddy. I want my life to be with you, too.”
The words hit him like a shockwave. “Yeah?” he asked, barely breathing.
“Yeah,” she whispered.
He pulled her into him. And for a moment, they forgot everything else. The kiss deepened. Heat flared. His hands tightened on her. He forced himself back, breathing hard.
“Why’d you stop?” She blinked up at him.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Because I’ve waited this long.”
Her lips curved softly. “And?”
“And if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop. I want a ring on your finger before we do that. And I want it right.” Because she deserved it. She deserved everything to be perfect. It was old fashioned, but he was an old fashioned guy.
Her eyes went soft. “You always do.”
He kissed her again. Quick. Soft.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised. “Or the next day.”
“I’ll be here.”
“I know you will.”
Jaxon sucked in a sharp breath. The road blurred for a second before he forced himself back to the present. His chest ached. Dwelling on those memories didn’t change anything. They just made it hurt worse.
Of course, he hadn’t come back. Not the next day. Or the day after, or any other day for eight long years. And now he was here, trying to fix something that might be beyond repair.
He pulled up to the warehouse and cut the engine. The silence hit him harder than it used to. It was heavy and unforgiving. He swung off the bike and headed inside.
The gym was empty. Jaxon wrapped his hands, then stepped up to the heavy bag and let everything go. Normally, he would warm up first, but not today. The first punch landed hard. The second even harder. By the third, he wasn’t thinking anymore. Just hitting. Moving. Breathing through the pain.
Pain was therapeutic. It grounded him. Centered him… keeping the memories at bay. Sweat poured down his back. His muscles burned. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough to get the picture of Tazzy with that damn cigarette out of his head.
“Damn,” a voice drawled from behind him.
Jaxon kept punching the bag and ignored the voice. He recognized it was Ravage, but he didn’t care about Ravage or anything else but the next punch.
“That bag didn’t do anything to you, man.”
Jaxon threw another punch. “Didn’t say it did. It was just the closest target.”
“Fair enough.”
Jaxon finally stepped back from the bag. Breathing hard, he unwrapped his fists.
Ravage leaned against the doorway, beer in hand. “Saw you pull out from behind the coffee shop and thought you might be here.”
Of course, he had. Nothing went unnoticed around here. That was one thing about Darling that hadn’t changed. Jaxon grabbed a towel. “I needed it.”
“Yeah,” Ravage said. “Looks like it.”
Jaxon wiped his face, then jerked his chin. “Drink?”
“Way ahead of you.” Ravage headed downstairs to Deep Dive. “Sometimes a man needs more than fists to quiet his head.”
Ravage sat at the bar and ordered a beer.
Jaxon got a root beer. He had a feeling he’d need a clear head for this.
For a while, they talked about nothing. Music.
The town. Random bullshit. It was easy. Unexpectedly easy, because Ravage didn’t look at him like the others did.
Ravage didn’t see Jaxon’s past first. He didn’t see the failure. Ravage just saw him.
“You're thinking about leaving.” Ravage hadn’t asked a question. He’d made a statement.
Jaxon stilled. Was he that easy to read? He shrugged. “Maybe. Sometimes.”
“Where would you go?”
“Anywhere, if the time came. It wouldn’t matter.”
Ravage nodded slowly. “And you’d leave her here.”
Ravage got straight to the point, now didn’t he? Jaxon’s jaw tightened. “Don’t start. I don’t know you, and you sure as hell don’t know me.” The biker didn’t get to have an opinion on something that mattered this much.
Ravage just stared back at him before taking another drag on his beer. “Not starting anything. Just asking. And I know you better than you think.”
Jaxon stared at the bottle in his hand. “Oh, really? And how is that?”
“You’ll see. For now, let’s just say it’s true.”
Jaxon gave Ravage a dismissive shrug. “If you say so.”