27. Jax
jax
I rush through town. With dinner in my grocery bags and my heart in my throat, I am ready to be at Felicity’s now, but I had to get what was necessary.
Her text had come through right as I’d gotten back down the mountain from moving another herd of cattle, and I have never moved through night chores faster than I did tonight.
My brothers were giving me so much shit, but I didn’t care.
I want to be there with her. I want to see how she felt, seeing my note, seeing where I was with her.
I should have waited to give her the note, but I thought I would get more notice of when Graham was showing her the house.
He thought another few days and hadn’t given me any warning.
I would have killed to be there when she saw my heart on the line, when she saw the flowers and the greenhouse. I would have loved to see that.
The next best thing would be being there now, helping her get her house together, and hoping she was open to me being a part of it.
“Jaxon.” A voice behind me makes me stop and turn, my gaze landing on none other than Gerald Vogel.
“Mr. Vogel,” I say, shifting the groceries to one hand and holding out mine politely. “Nice to see you, sir.”
He nods and glances at the grocery bags, the loaf of bread sticking out of one, pointing to my making dinner for his daughter. It’s not terribly obvious, but it’s not a secret that I’ve been dating her the last month.
“Son.” Mr. Vogel swallows uncomfortably and looks down the street. Several residents are wandering the streets, popping into shops at the last minute for dinner items and things for the weekend.
Everyone is gearing up for this next week, with everyone having friends and family plans for Thanksgiving.
“I wanted to ask you something, something that you may not be happy to hear.”
I stiffen my stance, already having an idea of where he is going with that. “All right.”
Knowing what he was going to say didn’t help lessen the sting any. “I want you to stay away from Felicity.”
Gritting my teeth, I force my jaw to relax so I can speak without sounding like an asshole. “Could I ask you why, sir? I’ve never done anything to hurt her before.”
Maybe the reminder that his daughter left me would be enough to get him to see reason.
But no. Of course it doesn’t.
“She’s got a lot going on right now, Jax.” He looks at me, trying to implore to me the importance of what he is saying without saying it. I don’t reply, waiting for him to spit out whatever he wants to say. “She’s moving home. She’s got an album to record.”
“I won’t do anything to hinder that process.
Hell, I want her here,” I say, laying my honesty at my feet.
I want her here more than anything. I want that life with her.
I want the house, the kids, the future. I want to watch her write, listen to her sing, make her dinners, rub her feet at night, and have movie nights.
But that is probably too much to admit to her father.
“Jax.” He shakes his head, a disbelieving chuckle leaving his mouth. “You don’t want to be a part of this, son. You need your own life.”
I shake my head, switching the grocery bag to my other arm. “Sir, with all due respect, she is my life.”
Fuck. It is too soon to say that, but it is the only thing in my life that feels real, that feels like pure truth.
“Are you ready for that?” He looks at me intently, like he is trying to find lies beneath the surface. Lies that aren’t there.
“Sir, I’ve been ready for your daughter since I was fifteen years old.”
He steps back, shaking his head. “Then you’re a good man, Jax. Raising another man’s baby is not something everyone is willing to do.”
For a moment, my brain has to process his words, as if they were another language. I stand there, unable to keep the shock off of my face, and watch as the blood drains from Felicity’s dad’s face.
“I, uh…” he stammers, uncomfortable with the silence that seems to be a vacuum sucking out the air between us.
My feet take a few steps back, my body telling my brain to get out of this situation before I can properly process the feelings that start to course through me.
“Jax,” Mr. Vogel says, looking stricken.
“I have to go.”
By the time I get to Felicity’s house, my heart has finally calmed enough to allow my brain to process what I now know. The new information, though small, seemed to take every bit of me to finally cycle through and become concrete.
Another man’s baby.
Baby.
Felicity is pregnant.
I think back over the last few weeks, how she was eating like she couldn’t decide what tasted good and bad, how I haven’t seen her drink, not once, how she wore baggie sweaters around me all the time, how she wouldn’t fully hug me tight like she used to, how she hadn’t let us go further than kissing.
She didn’t want me to know.
I hang my head as I sit in her driveway, regretting the note in the greenhouse—hell, and the greenhouse itself—so fucking bad right now and wish I could go back in time to take it all away.
She told me we needed to talk, and like an idiot, I didn’t take that as a bad sign, but as a sign she is ready to commit.
Instead, I thought about what she was going to say, what she was going to excuse.
Fuck.
She should have told me! I bang my hand on the steering wheel when a moment of horror hits me. The night my dad’s thugs found me and beat the shit out of me, what if they had gone after her? What if she had gotten hurt in the process and something happened to the baby?
I jump out of my truck, not bothering locking it as I slam the door and march right into her house, my adrenaline pushing me past the shock and panic and straight into the rage that felt like it was consuming me.
“Felicity!” My voice echoes around the semi-empty house, the furniture still needing to be placed, and follow when she yells from the back of the house.
I reach the door at the end of the hall and march in, my feet eating the space between us until I’m right there in front of her. Her eyes are wide with shock, her hair up in a bun on top of her head, and a paintbrush in her hand.
“Is it true?” I demand, keeping my eyes locked on hers and imploring her to tell me the truth.
“What? Jax, what’s wrong?” She sets the paintbrush down and reaches for my hands. I hold them back and ask her again.
“Is it true, Felicity?” I say, my eyes finally raking over her and seeing her in shorts and an oversized sweatshirt. “Are you…” I swallow, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Are you pregnant, Felicity?”
My voice is quiet as I ask the question, unable to shout like I really want to. Felicity’s eyes stay wide as they work over my face, and her shoulders drop. Before she even utters a word, I know that, without a doubt, it is.
“Yes.”
That’s all she says. She doesn’t give me an excuse, doesn’t backpedal or lie, just admits it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice cracking, my hands shaking at my sides.
Felicity’s eyes don’t leave mine as she tries to gauge the level of anger I am at. “Because…I was scared.”
Her admission has me pausing, and I blink, confused. “Scared? Scared of me?” My hand presses to my chest.
She shakes her head quickly. “No. No, of course not.” She lets her hand drop and shakes her head, stepping away to pace.
“I’ve been dealing with this on my own for months.
My parents have only known for a short time, and outside of that, it’s only my lawyers and a couple of friends.
I have to keep it under wraps because of who I am, Jax. ”
“Under wraps? From me?” Hurt laces my tone, and I think she sees what she said after witnessing my expression.
“Jax…” She starts, lifting her hands to hold her head. “I didn’t know how you would take this, and selfishly, I wanted a little more time with you without the burden of a baby on top of it.”
I scoff, stepping back and resting my hands on my hips. “The fact that you don’t trust me enough to tell me, that you think any child of yours would ever be a burden to me, tells me that you don’t know me at all.”
Regret is hitting me deep in the chest, regret for how forward I’ve been, regret for not seeing it sooner, regret for not pinning her down and showing her that anything that comes from her is all the more for me to love.
Tears fill her eyes, and when I look at her, I see more than regret. I see fear, I see embarrassment, I see hesitancy.
I step back and watch her arms fall to her sides, defeat written all over her face.
“I just—” I pause, wiping a hand over my mouth to distract myself from her tears. I want so badly to march up to her, to kiss her face, to wipe away the tears that fall. “I need some time.”
Then, without waiting for another word from her, I leave.