Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
BELLA
I pull the blankets over my head, willing the world to disappear. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I peek at it, half-hoping, half-dreading that it’s Jax.
It’s not.
It’s my alarm, reminding me I should already be in the shower, getting ready for work.
I let out a long sigh and roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. My chest feels heavy, my mind fogged with exhaustion, not from lack of sleep but from thinking too damn much. Thinking about Jax. Thinking about how easily he let me walk away. Thinking about how much it hurts that he still hasn’t called or texted.
I don’t want to deal with today.
With a deep breath, I grab my phone and pull up Amelia’s contact. My fingers hover over the screen for a second before I press call.
She answers on the second ring. “Hey, Bella. Everything okay?”
I close my eyes. “Not really. I think I need a mental health day.”
There’s a pause before she answers, softer this time. “Of course. I’ll let Dr. Davis know. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“Thanks, Amelia.”
I hang up and drop my phone onto the bed beside me, exhaling heavily. One day. Just one day to get my head on straight.
I throw the blankets off and force myself up, shuffling to the kitchen for coffee.
Thursday Morning – Brooke’s House
I wake up to the smell of coffee and the faint sound of the TV coming from the living room. My head is heavy, my body sluggish from too little sleep and too much thinking.
I roll onto my side, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to feel something other than this dull ache in my chest.
Jax still hasn’t called.
Not that I expected him to.
I exhale, forcing myself to sit up. My jeans from yesterday are folded neatly on the chair, my sweater draped over the back. Brooke must’ve done that before she went to bed.
I tug them on and pad out of the guest room, following the scent of coffee into the kitchen.
Brooke is already there, sitting at the table in an oversized hoodie, her legs pulled up onto the chair, a steaming mug in her hands. She glances up when I walk in, her brows lifting slightly.
“Morning,” she says around a sip of coffee.
I grunt in response and head straight for the coffee maker, pouring myself a mug before leaning against the counter. The first sip is hot and strong, exactly what I need, but it doesn’t do much to shake the weight pressing against my ribs.
Brooke watches me for a long moment, then sets her mug down. “So… what’s the plan?”
I glance at her over the rim of my cup. “For what?”
“For you.” She gestures vaguely at me. “For this whole thing where you pretend you’re fine but actually look like someone kicked your puppy.”
I sigh and lower my mug. “I just need to think.”
She nods, then leans forward, resting her arms on the table. “Okay. Think somewhere that isn’t my kitchen.”
I frown. “What?”
She smirks. “We’re going on a girls’ trip.”
I blink. “We are?”
“Yep. You, me, Bri. Packing up and getting out of town for the weekend.” She shrugs. “Figure you could use a break from—” she waves a hand in the air— “all this.”
I let out a slow breath, staring down into my coffee. “Brooke, I don’t know…”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “I’m not giving you a choice. You’ve spent enough time thinking about him. It’s time to think about you for once.”
I press my lips together.
She leans back in her chair, watching me closely. “I’m serious, Bella. I know you. If you stay here, you’re just going to overthink everything and wait for him to call. And I love you, but I refuse to let you spend the weekend staring at your phone.”
I scowl. “I wouldn’t.”
Brooke just lifts a brow.
I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Where are we even going?”
“Somewhere cute. Somewhere with snow. And good food.” She smirks. “Maybe some hot guys, if you’re interested.”
I snort. “Hard pass.”
She grins. “Fine. Then just a weekend of sister bonding and a whole lot of drinks.”
I hesitate.
A weekend away. No Jax. No club. No waiting for something that may never come.
Just me, my sisters, and a chance to clear my head.
I take another sip of coffee. “Fine. But only if we don’t go somewhere with too much snow.”
Brooke beams. “Deal.”
The second we step inside, the warm, smoky scent of whiskey and spiced cider wraps around me. The bar is packed with locals and tourists alike, boots scuffing against the wooden floor, laughter rising above the twangy country song playing from the stage.
It’s cozy in the best way—dim lighting, rustic decor, and the kind of place where everyone knows everyone.
I pull off my coat, already feeling the buzz of the last round of drinks we had at dinner. It’s been a good night so far—good food, good conversation, no talk of Jax.
And I plan to keep it that way.
Brooke links her arm through mine. “I say we get shots and find the hottest cowboys in the room.”
Brianna grins. “Agreed.”
I roll my eyes but let them drag me toward the bar. “I’ll take a drink, but no cowboys.”
Brooke smirks. “We’ll see.”
We order a round of tequila, clinking our glasses together before knocking them back. The burn is sharp, but it spreads warmth through my chest, loosening the tension in my shoulders.
Brooke nudges me. “So, how does it feel to be Jax-free for the weekend?”
I force a smirk. “Lighter. Clearer. Completely unbothered by emotionally unavailable bikers.”
Brianna snorts. “Uh-huh. That’s why you keep checking your phone.”
I scowl. “I have not—”
Before I can finish, Brooke snatches my phone from my hand and waves it in the air.
“Then you won’t mind if I keep this for the night?” she teases.
I lunge, but she dances out of reach, laughing. “Brooke, I swear—”
“You can have it back after you have some actual fun.” She shoves it into her tiny purse, effectively ending the discussion.
Bri lifts her glass. “To a Jax-free night.”
Brooke grins. “To making Bella remember what fun feels like.”
I sigh but clink my glass against theirs anyway, knocking back another drink.
“All right, all right. I’ll try.”
They whoop like I just agreed to commit a felony.
We spend the next hour dancing to upbeat country songs, twirling and laughing as Brooke nearly trips in her heels. For the first time in days, I feel light, untangled from the mess inside my head.
Then, as I pause to catch my breath at the bar, a tall, broad-shouldered man approaches. His button-up is crisp, his jeans fitted, his boots well-worn. A cowboy hat rests on his head, shadowing warm brown eyes and a friendly, dimpled smile.
“Ladies,” he greets, tipping his hat. “Mind if I steal one of you for a dance?”
Brooke elbows me before I can respond. “She minds. But she needs to get over it.”
I glare at her. “I do not need to get over anything.”
Brianna lifts a brow. “Then dance with him.”
I scoff. “It’s just a dance.”
“Exactly,” Brooke says, smirking. “And your ass has been glued to this barstool long enough.”
The cowboy laughs, amused. “No pressure, sweetheart. Just figured I’d ask.”
I look up at him, taking in the easy charm, the politeness in his stance. If I were another woman, maybe I’d be excited by the offer.
But I’m not another woman.
I’m Jax’s woman.
Even if I’m pissed at him.
Still, my sisters’ pointed stares burn into me, and I know they won’t let this go.
I sigh. “Fine. One dance.”
The cowboy grins, offering his hand. “Name’s Cody.”
“Bella,” I say, slipping my hand into his.
The song is fast-paced, a perfect two-step rhythm. Cody is a good lead, smooth and confident, and I do have fun, twirling across the floor, my boots sliding against the polished wood.
“See?” Brooke calls from the bar. “She can have fun!”
I roll my eyes but laugh. It is fun—light, easy, uncomplicated.
Then the song slows.
The twang of a steel guitar hums through the bar, and just like that, the mood shifts.
Cody’s hands slide to my waist, his grip more intentional as he tugs me closer.
I freeze.
He’s not doing anything wrong—just following the rhythm, the natural transition into a slow dance. But the second his hands settle on my hips, my stomach twists.
Because it isn’t Jax.
I step back, shrugging out of his hold. “Sorry. I don’t do slow dances.”
Cody blinks, surprised, then nods easily. “No problem.”
I turn on my heel, heading straight back to Brooke and Brianna.
Brooke smirks. “Well, that was fast.”
I grab my drink, taking a long sip. “It felt… wrong.”
Bri tilts her head. “Because he’s not Jax?”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to.
Brooke sighs, shaking her head. “Bella, you’re in deep.”
I exhale, my shoulders slumping. “Yeah. I am.”
Because no cowboy, no distraction, no amount of distance will change the truth.
I love Jax. Fiercely. And I have no idea what to do about it.
The scent of cinnamon and coffee drifts through the cabin, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. My head isn’t pounding, but there’s a dull ache at the back of my skull—a mix of too many drinks and too many thoughts.
I roll over, burrowing deeper into the blankets, willing the world to disappear for just a little longer. But it’s no use. The weight pressing against my ribs, the heaviness in my limbs, none of it fades.
The mattress shifts beside me, and I know before she speaks that Brooke is awake.
And watching me.
“You okay?” she asks, her voice softer than I expected.
I sigh. “I’m fine.”
Brooke doesn’t buy it. She shifts to sit up, pulling her knees to her chest, and I can feel her waiting for me to say more.
After a long pause, she finally says, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I think you should.”
I rub my face, groaning. “Brooke—”
“I’m just worried about you, Bella,” she says gently. “Last night… you looked like you were having fun. But then that cowboy tried to pull you close, and I saw it—the way you shut down.”
I swallow hard, staring at the ceiling.
“I didn’t shut down.”
Brooke gives me a knowing look. “It wasn’t him.”
I close my eyes. “No. It wasn’t.”
The bed is quiet for a moment, the weight of her concern filling the space between us. Then, she sighs.
“I know you love him.”
I blink up at her.
She smiles, but it’s sad. “You don’t have to say it. I just know.”
My throat tightens.
Brooke tilts her head. “So, what happened?”
I hesitate, then sit up, wrapping my arms around my knees. “I don’t know. Or maybe I do, but I don’t want to admit it.” I take a breath. “He keeps me at a distance. Says it’s club business and acts like that’s supposed to be a good enough excuse. And I tried to be okay with it, but…” I shake my head. “It feels like he wants me but doesn’t trust me. Like I’m something fragile he’s afraid to break, so instead, he just pushes me away.”
Brooke listens, her gaze soft. “That sounds exhausting.”
I let out a dry laugh. “It is.”
She shifts closer, resting a hand on my arm. “I don’t think Jax is trying to hurt you. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t hurting you.”
I look down at my hands. “I don’t know what to do.”
Brooke’s fingers tighten around mine. “I think… you don’t have to do anything.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve done your part, Bella. You’ve been patient. You’ve been understanding. But if he can’t figure out how to meet you halfway, that’s his problem to fix.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “You don’t have to prove you’re strong enough for him. He has to prove he’s strong enough to let you in.”
I exhale slowly, Brooke’s words settling deep.
For the first time, I wonder if I’ve been thinking about this all wrong. Maybe it’s not about whether I can handle Jax’s world.
Maybe it’s about whether Jax is willing to let me be a part of it.
Brooke nudges me. “Come on, let’s get coffee.”
I nod, but as I slip out of bed, I already know the truth.
I miss him.
And no matter how much distance I put between us, I can’t change that.
I wake up to the smell of coffee and the distant sound of the TV playing in the living room. My head feels heavy, my body sluggish from too little sleep and too many thoughts.
Jax still hasn’t called.
The realization hits like a punch to the chest, even though I should’ve expected it.
I roll onto my side, staring at the ceiling for a long moment before forcing myself to get up. My jeans from yesterday are folded neatly on a chair, my sweater draped over the back. I tug both on, my body moving on autopilot, my mind still tangled in last night.
The fight. The way I walked away. The way Jax let me.
The road stretches ahead, endless and quiet, the hum of the tires against the pavement lulling me into a state of restless thought. I sit in the backseat, letting Brianna take the front, my head resting against the cool glass of the window as I stare out at the snow-covered trees blurring past.
I don’t talk much, and thankfully, my sisters don’t push. They chat about work, about their favorite songs, about some reality show they’re both obsessed with, filling the space so I don’t have to.
But my mind isn’t here.
It’s back in that country bar, with the cowboy who wasn’t Jax.
It’s back in that cabin, with Brooke’s words echoing in my ears.
"You don’t have to prove you’re strong enough for him. He has to prove he’s strong enough to let you in."
I don’t know what to do.
I could call Jax. Demand answers. Force him to be honest with me.
Or I could walk away. Let go before I get hurt any worse.
Every time I think about reaching for my phone, my chest tightens. I don’t want to be the one fighting for this—not if I’m the only one willing to.
So I decide to do nothing.
I’ll wait.
If Jax wants me, really wants me, then he’ll have to show me.
We pull up in front of Brianna’s place, and she turns in her seat to look at me.
“You okay?”
I force a small smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods. “Call me later?”
“I will.”
She squeezes my hand before getting out, waving as she heads inside.
Brooke pulls back onto the road, her hands tapping against the wheel as we near her place. When we finally pull into her driveway, she glances at me in the rearview mirror.
“What should we do for dinner?” she asks. “I’m thinking tacos. Or maybe takeout?”
I hesitate.
She’s offering me an out, a way to keep from sitting alone in my thoughts tonight. And part of me wants to take it. Wants to stay in the comfort of my sister’s home, let her distract me with food, a movie, and a long talk over ice cream.
But that’s not what I need.
I need space. I need to clear my head, to settle into my world again before I decide what to do next.
“I appreciate it,” I say softly, “but I think I’m going to head home.”
Brooke’s expression tightens, like she wants to argue, but she stops herself. Instead, she puts the car in park and turns to face me fully.
“You don’t have to figure everything out tonight, Bells,” she says. “Just… don’t shut us out, okay?”
I nod. “I won’t.”
We step out of the SUV, and I help her unload our bags from the back, carrying them inside while she sorts through what belongs to who. The house is warm, the familiar scent of vanilla and something citrusy making me pause for a moment.
This is safety. A place where I could stay, where I wouldn’t have to think about Jax or what comes next.
But I can’t hide.
After bringing the last of the bags inside, I give Brooke a quick hug. “Thanks for the trip. I needed it.”
She squeezes me a little tighter than usual. “I know.”
I pull away, heading back out into the cold, and climb into my car.
The drive back to my townhouse is quiet. No music, no distractions—just the rhythm of my own thoughts.
By the time I pull into my driveway, the sun is already sinking low, casting the sky in shades of deep purple and blue. I step inside, the silence wrapping around me, and exhale slowly. There’s a staleness about the place. I’ve only been here a few times since I moved in with Jax. The place feels empty now, missing a lot of my personal things. Thank god I still have clothes and all of my furniture here. I walk back to my room, put my bag down on my bed, and unpack. My life feels out of control. Like a bomb exploded and I’m trying to pick up the pieces.
Needing to do something, I shower, letting the hot water wash away the weekend. I toss laundry in the wash and make a mental list of everything I need to do this week. I keep myself busy.
But when I finally slip into bed, the quiet feels heavier.
And no matter how much I try to push it down, I can’t stop wondering if Jax is thinking about me too.
I toss my phone onto the nightstand, face down, and stare at the ceiling. The room is dark except for the soft glow from the streetlights outside filtering through the curtains. The house is quiet—too quiet.
I should be exhausted. The weekend was long, the drive home draining, and yet, sleep feels impossible.
Because he still hasn’t called. Not a single text. Not a missed call. Not even a half-assed “You okay?” message. Nothing. And it hurts more than I want it to.
I roll onto my side, pulling the blanket up to my chin, but the ache in my chest doesn’t fade. I try to tell myself that this is what I wanted—to give him space, to see if he would be the one to reach out first. But the longer the silence stretches, the more doubt creeps in. What if he’s already let me go? What if I walked out that door, and instead of chasing after me, he just shrugged and moved on?
The thought makes my stomach twist. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the lump in my throat back down. I don’t want to be that girl—the one who sits by her phone, waiting for a man to decide she’s worth it. I don’t need him to call. But damn it, I want him to. I want him to prove me wrong. To show me that I matter. That I’m not someone easy to walk away from.
I reach for my phone before I can stop myself, my fingers hovering over the screen. I could text him. Just one message. I could ask if he’s okay. If he’s even thinking about me at all. But then what? If he wanted to talk to me, he would. So I don’t.
Instead, I turn my phone on silent, shove it under my pillow, and tell myself that if Jax wants me, really wants me, then he’s going to have to be the one to show it.
Because I’m done chasing after him.