Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
BELLA
It’s been a slow afternoon at the clinic, but Amelia hasn’t said much. She keeps shifting in her chair, drumming her fingers against the desk instead of actually doing her work. Finally, she sighs and looks over at me. “This is going to be a weird question, but have you heard from Mike?”
My stomach tightens. I blink, keeping my expression neutral. “Mike?”
She nods, rolling her eyes. “Yeah. No one’s heard from him in weeks. His mom’s freaking out, keeps calling me like I’m supposed to know where he is. He’s probably off somewhere with some girl, screwing around and avoiding responsibility.”
I force out a small laugh, even though the pit in my stomach only gets heavier. That’s not what happened. Mike’s gone. And he’s never coming back. And after what Mike tried to do—what I know he was planning—I don’t feel bad. Not for him. Not even a little.
But Amelia and her family? They don’t know that side of him. To them, he’s just missing, and they’re left wondering. That part? That part makes me feel awful.
I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay even. “Yeah… maybe.”
She sighs, shaking her head. “I swear, if he pops back up in a year with some sob story about how he ‘needed to get away,’ I’m going to kick his ass.”
I smile weakly. “I hope everything’s okay.” It’s the only thing I can say.
She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods. “Yeah. Me too.”
I think back to when Jax told me what happened. It wasn’t some big dramatic confession. No guilt, no hesitation—just a simple statement, like he was telling me the weather. Like he needed me to know, but not in a way that asked for my approval.
It scared me. Not because I didn’t understand why he did it. But because it made everything real. Mike wasn’t just gone—he was handled. But more than anything… I was thankful. Thankful Jax saved me from whatever fucked-up plan Mike had. Thankful I never had to find out what he was truly capable of. Thankful that when I needed someone to protect me, Jax didn’t hesitate.
I should feel worse about it. Maybe a part of me does. But at the end of the day? I’d rather live with the weight of this secret than with whatever nightmare Mike had planned for me.
The sound of pins crashing echoes through the bowling alley, followed by a loud, triumphant cheer from Bri. She jumps up, pumping her fists in the air like she just won a damn championship.
“Hell yeah! That’s how it’s done!” she shouts, spinning on her heel to flash me and Brooke a smug grin. “You guys should really take notes.”
I roll my eyes, taking a slow sip of my soda. “Enjoy it while it lasts, B. You still have another round.”
Brooke, however, is barely paying attention. She’s curled up on the hard plastic seat, scrolling through her phone with the kind of smirk that only means one thing—she’s talking to a guy. Again.
“You’ve been smiling at your phone all night,” I point out, tilting my head. “Which poor guy are you stringing along now?”
Brooke finally looks up, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. “Oh, he’s not poor.”
I groan. “Of course he’s not.”
Bri, suddenly intrigued, leans in with wide eyes. “Okay, spill. Who is he?”
Brooke’s grin stretches wider as she sets her phone down. “His name is Nathan. He works in finance—very successful, of course. Drives an Audi, owns a lake house, and—wait for it—he took me to a five-star restaurant on our first date .”
Bri whistles, dramatically fanning herself. “Damn. Sounds like a keeper.”
I, on the other hand, just shake my head. “Brooke, I swear, you have a type .”
She shrugs, completely unbothered. “What? I like a man with ambition.”
“You like a man with money,” I counter, arching a brow.
Brooke smirks, sipping her wine like she’s completely fine with that accusation. “Same thing.”
Bri laughs, shaking her head, while I just sigh. It’s nothing new. Brooke is gorgeous, independent, and smart as hell, but she always chases guys with thick wallets, big egos, and jobs that require them to wear overpriced suits.
“Look, I’m just saying,” Brooke continues, flipping her hair back. “It’s nice to be with someone who has their shit together. Someone stable. Someone who isn’t, you know, wrapped up in—”
She pauses, waving her hand vaguely in the air before locking eyes with me.
“—club stuff.”
I stiffen slightly at that last part.
Bri gives her a look. “Brooke—”
“No, I like Jax,” Brooke clarifies quickly, holding up her hands. “I do. He’s hot, he treats you well, and from what I can tell, he’s crazy about you. But… does it ever bother you that his entire life revolves around the club?”
I wrap my fingers around my soda cup a little tighter. “No.”
Brooke raises an eyebrow. “ No ?”
I exhale, shoulders tensing. “Fine. Sometimes .”
Bri stays quiet, her sharp eyes flicking between us.
“I mean, yeah, it can be frustrating,” I admit, shifting in my seat. “He works a lot. And when the club calls, he has to drop everything. But it’s not like he’s out robbing banks or doing shady shit.”
Brooke leans back against the seat, arms crossed. “Still. You don’t worry about getting stuck in that world? About always being second to the club?”
I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders. “I knew what I was getting into. And I trust Jax.”
Brooke studies me for a second, her expression unreadable, then lets out a dramatic sigh. “Well, I guess as long as you know what you’re doing.”
Bri snorts. “Wow. Such confidence in your sister’s choices.”
“I do have confidence in her choices,” Brooke says, tossing a piece of popcorn at Bri. “Except when it comes to men.”
“Wow, thanks,” I deadpan.
Brooke winks. “Anytime, baby sis.”
I shake my head, but a small smile tugs at my lips. This is just how Brooke is—blunt, a little judgy, but always looking out for me in her own way.
Bri stretches her arms over her head before checking the scoreboard. “Alright, alright, enough about Bella’s biker boyfriend. Time to focus. I’ve got a game to win.”
I roll my eyes. “You mean a game to lose .”
“Pfft.” Bri grabs her bowling ball, winks, and struts toward the lane like she’s about to throw a perfect strike.
She doesn’t. The ball veers off to the side, barely knocking down three pins. Brooke and I laugh our asses off.
Bri spins around, scowling. “This lane is rigged .”
Brooke wipes a fake tear from her eye. “Oh my God, I love watching you fail.”
Bri flips us both off before grabbing her ball again.
I shake my head, laughing softly as I reach for my phone to check the time, but instead, I see a new text from Jax.
Jax: Need to talk to you about something important.
I frown, my stomach tightening.
Me: Talk when we get home?
Instead of texting back, my phone starts ringing.
I answer immediately. “Hey. Everything okay?”
Jax sighs on the other end, and that alone makes my chest feel tight. “Baby, I gotta go out of town tonight.”
I sit up straighter, my fingers gripping my phone. “What do you mean? Where are you going?”
There’s a pause, then another heavy sigh. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
I close my eyes, my jaw tightening. I hate this part. The secrecy. The club business that I’ll never be fully part of.
“Well, do you know when you’ll be back?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I have no idea,” he admits. “It should only be a day or two. I’ll call you when I know more.”
A cold, uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. “Did something happen?” I ask, my voice quieter now.
Jax is silent for a few beats too long, and sounds irritated that he’s answering my questions. “It’s just club business, Bella. Nothing you need to worry about.”
I shake my head. “That’s not an answer.”
“I know.” His voice is softer now, almost apologetic. “I just need you to trust me, baby.”
I do. That’s not the problem. The problem is, trust doesn’t make the pit in my stomach disappear. It doesn’t make the worry go away. But I know pushing him won’t do anything. He’s already made up his mind.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“I’ll call you when I can,” he says. “Stay home. Be safe. I love you.”
My throat tightens. “Love you too.”
The call ends, and I just sit there, staring at my phone, trying to shake the uneasy feeling settling deep in my chest.
I hear his bike before I see him. That deep, familiar rumble shakes the quiet night, sending a rush of emotions through me—relief, frustration, anger, and something that feels an awful lot like heartbreak.
I glance at the clock. 12:13 a.m. I've been waiting all night. Hell, I've been waiting since he texted earlier today saying, Should be home late tonight. That was it. No I miss you , no Can't wait to see you . Just a blunt statement.
For days, I’ve been pacing, trying to shove down the worry clawing at my stomach. Trying to remind myself that this is his life. That I signed up for this. But now that he’s here? I'm done pretending this is okay.
The front door swings open, and Jax steps inside, his cut slung over his shoulder, exhaustion written all over his face. He kicks the door shut behind him, heavy boots scuffing against the hardwood.
“Hey,” he mutters, dropping his cut onto the counter and running a hand over his shaved head before finally looking at me.
I don’t say anything right away. I just cross my arms, waiting, but when nothing comes, I explode. “That’s all you have to say?”
He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Babe, I’m exhausted. Can we do this tomorrow?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “ Tomorrow ? Are you serious?”
His jaw clenches. “Bella, I just walked in the goddamn door.”
“And I’ve been sitting here for almost a week wondering where you are, if you’re okay, what the hell is going on!” My voice rises, my chest heaving. “And you think I’m supposed to just sit here and wait until you decide to tell me something?”
His fists tighten at his sides. “I told you it was club business. You knew this was part of the deal.”
I throw my arms out. “What does that even mean, Jax? Because it sure as hell seems like ‘club business’ is just an excuse for anything you don’t want to talk about!”
His eyes flash. “It means you don’t need to know.”
I take a step back, my stomach twisting.
Jax stiffens, but he doesn’t take it back. He doesn’t soften.
“You don’t trust me,” I whisper, my throat tight.
He lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Trust? Jesus, Bella, it’s not about trust. You aren’t in the club. I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me before. Where is this all coming from?”
I clench my jaw, biting back the emotions threatening to spill over. “You’re right, Jax. You haven’t . But you’ve also never given me a reason to believe you’ll let me in .”
His hands flex at his sides, his entire body coiled tight. “I am not like other guys, Bella! I’m an officer in an MC. That means something.”
I laugh, but it’s empty. “Oh, I know it does. It means I get to be second to the club forever . It means you get to pick and choose what parts of your life I get to be a part of.”
“You knew what this was when we got together,” he snaps.
“Did I?” I challenge, stepping closer, anger burning through me. “Because I thought I was getting into a relationship. Not some half-assed, part-time boyfriend situation where I sit at home waiting while you disappear for a goddamn week .”
Jax’s eyes darken, his muscles tensing. “Is it that time of the month? You’re being a psycho girlfriend right now.”
I freeze. The room goes silent except for the pounding of my heart in my ears. Jax stiffens, realizing immediately he fucked up, but it’s too late. The damage is done.
I shake my head slowly, stepping back like I’ve been physically hit. “Wow.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“Bella—”
“No,” I cut him off, my throat raw. “I’m not doing this. I’m not going to stand here and beg for scraps of your time, your attention, your fucking respect. Wouldn’t want to act like a psycho girlfriend!”
He groans, rubbing a hand down his face before turning away from me to grab a beer from the refrigerator. “Jesus Christ, Bella, I don’t need this bullshit right now.”
And that’s my breaking point. I turn and storm into the bedroom, grabbing my overnight bag from the closet. I shove clothes inside blindly, my hands shaking so badly I can barely zip it up. I’m furious, on the verge of tears, but I won’t let him see me break. He doesn’t get that part of me.
Jax follows me in, leaning against the doorframe. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I yank my bag off the bed, shoving past him. “Leaving.”
His face hardens. “You’re being fucking dramatic right now. You know that?”
I whip around, my vision blurred with unshed tears. “No, Jax. I’m done .”
There’s something in his expression—something flickering behind his tired, stormy eyes. Regret? Guilt? Something deeper? Whatever it is, I don’t stick around to figure it out.
I grab my keys and march toward the door, my pulse pounding in my ears. My fingers tighten around the cold metal, my breath shaky as I pull it open. I step outside, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat.
Some stupid, hopeless part of me waits . Waits for him to follow. Waits for him to stop me. For him to say something —anything. Ask me to stay. Tell me he doesn’t want me to go. Hell, beg if that’s what it takes. But the door stays shut behind me. And with every step I take toward my car, reality sinks in. He’s not coming after me.
Tears blur my vision as I drive, my hands gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles hurt. I can barely breathe as I fumble with my phone, pressing Brooke’s name.
She answers on the second ring, her voice groggy. “Bella? What the hell—wait, what’s wrong?”
I sniff, my breath hitching. “Can I come over?”
“Of course,” she says immediately, fully awake now. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m almost there,” I say, my voice breaking.
“Pull in the driveway. I’ll be outside,” she tells me.
By the time I get to her house, she’s standing on the porch, arms crossed, her long hair pulled up in a messy bun, wearing leggings and one of her expensive cashmere sweaters. As soon as I step out of the car, she’s moving. That’s when I start balling. I drop my bag and she pulls me into a tight hug. “Shit, Bella. You’re shaking.” I don’t even notice. She holds me for a long moment before guiding me inside. She tells me to sit on the couch.
After a minute, she comes back with a glass of wine and hands it to me. “Okay. Talk.”
I take a deep breath, my voice shaking. “Jax finally got home tonight, super late. I was pissed off and we got into this huge fight.”
Her brows pull together. “Understandably. What set it off?”
I swallow hard and nod. “Him being gone all week with hardly any contact. He came in and is just like, ‘hey’. He had the nerve to act like I was the problem for being upset about it.”
Brooke’s face darkens. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I shake my head, wiping at my eyes. “And then he—he said I was being a psycho girlfriend and I knew what I was signing up for .”
Her entire body stiffens and the look she gives me could turn someone to stone. “That fucking asshole ,” she seethes. “I could murder the damn jerk.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”
Brooke exhales sharply, setting her wine glass down with a little too much force. She leans back against the couch, crossing her arms, her expression tightening like she’s reining in a whole lot of opinions she’s about to let loose.
“Bella, I like Jax, you know that,” she starts, her voice measured but firm. “But if he thinks he can just disappear for days and then gaslight you into thinking you’re crazy for being upset about it, he’s out of his goddamn mind.”
Her words hit hard, cracking through the last bit of resolve I’ve been holding onto. I swallow against the lump in my throat, my hands tightening around the blanket she wrapped around me earlier. My eyes burn, and I hate it. I hate feeling like this—like I’m crumbling over a man who, despite all the ways he’s made me feel wanted, still somehow makes me feel like I’m not enough.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper, my voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have moved in with him. I should have known better.”
Brooke’s head tilts slightly, her eyes narrowing. “What should you have known?”
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as I wipe at my face. “That I might be his girlfriend, but I’ll never come first.”
Brooke’s brows pull together, but she stays quiet, letting me get it out.
“He wants me when it’s convenient for him,” I say, my voice thick with frustration, anger, and hurt . “When he’s not busy with the club, when he has time to spare, then he wants me. And I don’t care if it makes me sound weak, or clingy, or whatever the fuck else he thinks I am—I want him to want me all the time. ” My fingers tighten around the blanket in my lap, my breath coming faster. “I don’t want to be something he keeps around just so he doesn’t get bored.”
Brooke’s jaw tenses, and she shakes her head slowly. “You know what that sounds like to me?”
I look up at her, waiting.
“That sounds like a man who doesn’t deserve you,” she says, her voice steady, cutting through my whirlwind of emotions. “And honestly? If he can’t see how fucking lucky he is to have you—if he makes you feel like an afterthought instead of his priority —then you need to ask yourself why you’re staying.”
Tears spill over before I can stop them, and I let out a shaky breath, dropping my head into my hands. Brooke doesn’t say anything and doesn’t push. She just reaches over, rubbing slow circles on my back, letting me feel what I need to feel. Because deep down? I know she’s right.
Brooke squeezes my hand, giving me that solid, unwavering strength she always has. “You don’t have to decide anything right now,” she says gently. “Just stay here tonight, okay? Get some sleep. Clear your head.”
I nod, too exhausted to argue. It feels like my whole body is made of lead, weighed down by the emotional wreckage of tonight. I lean back into the couch, staring off into space, wine glass in hand, tears spilling every few minutes. Brooke doesn’t push, doesn’t try to fix it. She just stays with me, sipping her wine, letting me cry in waves until the exhaustion finally wins and I drift off, still tangled in heartbreak.