12. Felicity
felicity
Taking in the walls around me, I gawk in awe at the work that’s been done. The walls that did have mold on them, according to the inspector, have been ripped off, down to the point where I can see the studs and the wiring behind them.
The floors are covered in plastic, but I can feel the fact that there is no longer any old and grimy carpet beneath my feet anymore, and I am excited at the prospect of what it could look like.
Right now, the house looks like it is in the beginning stages of being built.
“I know it’s rough to look at,” Graham says, standing with his hands on his hips. The house is stifling and explains the sweat that pours from the poor man’s face. “But we’ve actually made some great progress.”
I shake my head, unable to lose the smile on my face. “It looks incredible. Honestly. I can’t believe how much you’ve gotten done.”
“Well, you said a month,” he says with a nod.
A groan comes from the little makeshift table that is set up to the side, the table I set a platter of tacos on for anyone who wanted them. “This is great, Felicity. Thanks.” A compliment comes from Matthew, one of the guys who works with Graham.
I smile broadly. “Thank you for all your hard work.”
“You don’t have to bring us stuff, Ms. Vogel,” Calem, a boy who was likely in high school, comments. His cheeks burn when I look over at him.
“It’s really no trouble, and please, call me Felicity.”
“Yeah,” Graham murmurs, humor in his voice. “There’s really no chance of that. The poor guy is smitten.”
I widen my eyes a little, a laugh sparking in my stomach at the thought. “Aw. He likes my music.”
“You are just a teeny bit famous,” he says. “It’s going to get out soon that you’ve got this house going.”
I shrug and nod my head. “That’s okay. I plan to stay, so it was going to, one way or another. Plus, this is my hometown. Everyone here knows me.”
Graham nods and bites his cheek, something working through his mind, and I eye him speculatively. “What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head with a sigh. “Nothing. It’s just my daughter—Well, she’s my stepdaughter.” He pauses, and I smile at the uncomfortable look on his face. “She’s a huge fan, and it would probably earn me some major bonus points if I got her your autograph.”
My smile grows, and I nod my head. “Give me just a minute.”
He nods and turns back to the work at hand while I quickly step outside and to my car. I love that he asked politely, without making a fuss. I just got a bunch of headshots from my manager to sign and send back in the back of my car, and I rush to grab one.
As I’m signing it, I remember that he didn’t tell me her name, but just as I’m going back into the house, a truck pulls up outside.
Jax.
A tremor of excitement rushes through me at the prospect of seeing him. It’s been five days since I was at the ranch, and Jax wrapped his arms around me again.
Five days since I felt, for a moment, that things may have been falling back into place. Lodged back the puzzle piece I threw all over the ground when I left.
I hold myself still, marker and headshot still in hand, as he gets out of his truck. I suck in a breath at the sight of his tight black T-shirt, his jeans and boots covered in dust from clearly working at the ranch, and the black felt cowboy hat sitting on his head.
His eyes home in on me the moment he’s around his truck. “Stalking again?”
I lift my chin, holding firm and wondering if I need to have my defenses up. He seems to tilt from one end to the other on the scale of nice to asshole. “I was here first.”
Jax bites his lip and stops in front of me, shoving a thumb in his front pocket. “So you were.” He nudges my hand, looking at the headshot, and scoffs. “What? Hurting for money and going door-to-door to sell some autographs?”
Hurt lances through me at his words. Not because they are true—if he had any idea how much I’ve made for myself over the years, he would eat his words—but because he just had to be on the asshole side of the scale.
I look at him sadly, fighting back every urge to snap at the man in front of me.
If he had hurt my feelings when we were dating, when we were in high school, I would have ripped him a new one.
But I am an adult now, I am attempting to be mature. Hell, I am going to be a mother.
Not that he’ll ever know that.
That’s the thought that helps me keep my resolve. There’s no reason to get worked up over Jax Cash, or any man for that matter. The stakes I have at hand are far too high for emotion to pull me under.
Without a word, I turn on my heel and head back into my house, Jax right behind me. “Felicity.”
I ignore his soft plea of my name. Clearly, not snapping at him worked to show him what an asshole he was.
It doesn’t matter.
I find Graham again, feeling my ex still right there but focusing on the task. “Graham, what’s your daughter’s name?”
He smiles fondly and says, “Alex.”
“Perfect.” I grin, using a stud in the wall to press my picture to and then signing her name and autographing the picture.
He takes it from me. “Shit, she’s going to freak. Thank you so much, Felicity. You’ve earned me stepdad of the year award.”
I nod, smiling. For a moment, I feel like I did something great. Then I turn and gasp when I remember Jax is right there.
“What are you doing in this house?” Jax demands, his hands now planted on his hips. With his hat on and the solid five or six inches he has on me, he looks imposing.
“You mean my house?” I arch a brow, my finger pointing to my chest. “I’m checking the progress.”
Color drains from his face, and he looks between my eyes, trying to tell if I’m speaking the truth.
He always could tell when I was lying, but that was when we were younger.
I’ve had a hell of a lot of practice lying in Hollywood, but it doesn’t matter because the only thing I have to lie about is how much he affects me and the little baby growing inside of me right now.
“Your house?” he repeats, but his monotone voice makes me think it’s not a real question.
“Yes. My house. I bought it, and Graham and his crew are getting it ready for me.” I glance around, wondering if anyone is witnessing this confrontation, and realize Graham left, probably to put his picture in his truck. The other guys that are here are in the kitchen.
“Why would you buy a house here?”
I scoff and give a sarcastically infused answer. “Oh, I don’t know, Jax. Maybe because I live here.”
He barks out a laugh, making me jump. “That’s hilarious. Really. You had me going there for a minute.” His expression, clearly full of fake humor, darkens. “There’s no way that right after I move back, you’re back too.”
“Actually, I think I was here first,” I say, admitting that I heard the news when Jax got back.
“No, I was here first,” he says, placing a fist over his chest.
“Technically, I was. I’m two months older than you, remember?” I smile cheekily at him and revel in the brightening of his cheeks.
The poor man looks like he’s going to explode.
“Leave.” He spits out, and I flinch, not expecting that response.
“What?” Hurt laces my tone.
“Leave, Felicity. I know you’re going to eventually, and it’s better you do it now.” He points to the door of my house, and I resist slapping him.
“This is my house. And frankly, Jaxon Cash, you don’t know the first thing about me or my life anymore, so I’d appreciate it if you left me alone!” My voice rises at the end of my sentence, and I hate that we resorted to this.
I was going to be mature, dammit.
But Jax always got the best of my emotions. He was always the one person who could make me feel way too much, and now I was letting him get the better of me.
Be mature. Deep breaths.
I have to get away from him. I have to find a place to cool off before I lose my cool and someone here finds my vulnerability to be a meal ticket and sells me out to some tabloid.
Without a word, I step around him, ignoring the hand he reaches out and grazes my arm with, and march my way back to my car, trying to find the calm I so desperately need.