Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
BELLA
My hand presses against Jax’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath my palm. It’s strong, solid—just like him. Just like us , or at least what we used to be.
He’s saying everything I’ve wanted to hear. That he sees me. That he needs me. That he wants me. And my brain is spinning, my chest is tight because I want to believe him.
God, I want to believe him so badly.
But I’ve spent the last few days trying to put myself back together, trying to make peace with the idea that maybe— maybe —this wasn’t meant to work. That no matter how much I love him, some things just don’t fit.
And now he’s here, holding me, looking at me like I’m the only thing keeping him breathing, and it’s unraveling everything I’ve tried to convince myself of.
I swallow hard, my fingers twitching against his cut, the worn leather familiar under my touch. My body remembers this, remembers him—how it feels to be held like this, like I matter .
But my heart?
My heart is still trying to catch up.
Jax’s thumb brushes over my cheek, his touch careful, like he knows I could bolt at any second. “Say something, baby.” His voice is low, rough, desperate in a way I don’t think I’ve ever heard before.
I blink up at him, feeling the weight of everything between us pressing in. “I don’t know what to say.”
He exhales sharply, his forehead nearly dropping to mine before he catches himself. “Say you’ll let me fix this.”
My chest tightens. “Jax…”
“Baby,” he murmurs, his fingers flexing on my waist, like he’s trying to ground himself in me. “I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you. But I can’t lose you over this. I won’t .”
I close my eyes for a second, trying to steady myself, but all I can feel is him —his warmth, his presence, the way he’s holding me like I might slip right through his fingers.
I shake my head slightly. “It’s not that easy.”
“I know,” he says immediately. “I know it’s not. And I’m not asking for easy. I’m asking for a chance. One chance to make this right.”
I open my eyes, my throat tight. “You don’t get to just say all the right things and expect me to forget how much it hurt when you shut me out.”
His jaw tics, his hands gripping me tighter. “I don’t want you to forget. I want you to believe me when I say it won’t happen again.”
I search his face, looking for doubt, for hesitation—for anything that tells me he’s just saying what I want to hear. But there’s nothing. Just raw, unfiltered Jax .
My brain is screaming at me to be careful, to guard myself, to not fall right back into this just because he showed up tonight saying all the things I’ve been desperate to hear.
But my heart? My heart is already leaning in.
"Okay," I say softly.
I can't stop the word from slipping out. My brain is screaming at me to hold back, to make him work for this, to make sure I don’t just fall into him like I always do.
But my stupid heart?
My traitorous body?
They’ve already made the decision for me.
Jax watches me, his expression shifting, relief flashing through his eyes before something darker takes over. He moves fast, his hands sliding up, cupping my face, his thumbs brushing against my jaw.
Then he kisses me.
Soft at first, like he’s making sure I won’t pull away.
Like he’s still afraid I might change my mind.
But I don’t.
And once he realizes that, everything changes.
A growl rumbles low in his chest as his grip tightens, his lips pressing harder, more desperate. His hands slide down my back, dragging me flush against him, and the way his body fits against mine—solid, hot —has my head spinning.
I clutch his cut, curling my fingers into the leather, yanking him closer, and just like that, we’re moving. I don’t know when we start walking, when he maneuvers us across the room, but suddenly, my back is against a door. He fumbles with the handle, pushing us inside, his lips never leaving mine.
Then I’m on a desk. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, setting me down and wedging himself between my legs. I wrap them around his hips, tilting my head back as he trails kisses down my throat.
"Fuck, baby," he mutters against my skin. "Missed this. Missed you ."
I don’t answer because I can’t. My hands are already on his belt buckle, fingers working at it, when—A throat clears from the doorway.
Jax spins fast, shielding me, his stance going from ready to ruin me to ready to kill someone in half a second.
“Bella, good to see you, girl.”
My eyes widen.
Dagger is standing there, looking way too entertained.
I press my lips together, unsure if I should speak, but I nod instead, my face burning.
Jax exhales sharply, still standing between me and the door. "You need something, man?"
Dagger smirks, his gaze flicking between us. "Nah, just forgot something I needed. Don’t mind me."
He snags something off a filing cabinet, gives us one last look, then laughs as he walks away.
Jax mutters a curse under his breath, rubbing his hands down his face before looking back at me.
I groan, dropping my forehead against his chest. "I hate everything."
His chest shakes with laughter, but when I push against him, he lets me go, stepping back just enough for me to slide off the desk.
He watches me closely, his eyes still heated, still wanting. I know if I let him, he’d have me right back where I was—half undressed, pressed against him, lost in the way he makes me feel.
But reality has officially intruded. I exhale, smoothing my sweatshirt back into place. "I need to get back."
Jax tilts his head. "You got plans?"
I shrug, trying to sound casual. "I mean, it’s Friday night. I plan on relaxing on my couch and eating snacks."
Something flickers in his eyes. "That so?"
"Yep."
Jax steps closer, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “What kind of snacks are we talking?”
I cross my arms, mirroring his expression. “If you can guess, you’re invited.”
His brows pull together slightly before he laughs. “Okay, let’s see… popcorn?”
I tilt my head side to side, considering. “That’s an easy one, but yeah.”
His smirk widens. “Chips?”
I shake my head. “Too basic.”
“Chocolate?”
I narrow my eyes. “Be more specific.”
He leans in, voice dropping. “Something salty? Sweet? Both?”
I bite my lip, refusing to give him any hints.
His grin deepens. “Chocolate-covered pretzels.”
My face gives me away before I can stop it. His smirk turns victorious.
“That a yes?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “Maybe.”
He nods like he’s really thinking it through. “All right. What else? Ice cream?”
I fake a yawn. “Too obvious.”
His gaze flicks over me, reading me like an open book. Then his expression shifts slightly, and he lifts a brow. “Gummies.”
I blink. “What kind?”
His smirk returns. “Gummy bears, gummy worms—whatever. You like ‘em all.”
I scoff. “That is not—”
His grin stretches wider. “You love them.”
I cross my arms, my lips pressing together.
Jax laughs, reaching up to trace his fingers lightly down my arm. “Guess that means I’m invited, huh?”
I roll my eyes but don’t argue.
He dips his head, his lips ghosting near my ear. “You want me to come over, baby?”
A shiver runs through me, and I hate that he knows it.
I clear my throat, keeping my voice steady. “You just wanna steal my snacks.”
His grin is pure sin. “Damn right I do.”
I narrow my eyes, pretending to think about it. “Fine. But if you eat all the chocolate-covered pretzels, I will end you .”
Jax laughs, pulling back just enough to look at me, his eyes warm, something softer hiding behind the amusement.
“Deal.”
Jax leads us out the front, the same way we came and locks up the office, tucking his keys into his pocket before turning to me. “Let’s go.”
I climb onto the bike behind him, slipping my arms around his waist, and lean my head against his back. This spot, right here, is my favorite.
The engine rumbles beneath us as we weave through the streets, and instead of heading straight to my place, Jax pulls into a gas station. “Snack run,” he says, throwing a smirk over his shoulder.
We head inside, and it’s a miracle we don’t walk out with half the store. We grab everything—chocolate-covered pretzels, gummies, popcorn, chips, ice cream. Jax throws in some beef jerky, calling it “a necessary protein source,” which makes me roll my eyes.
By the time we get back to my place, we’re fully stocked for a night in.
Jax kicks off his boots near the door, shrugs off his cut, and tosses it over the arm of the couch. Now it’s just him in jeans and a black t-shirt, the fabric stretching across his broad shoulders in a way that shouldn’t be distracting—but is.
I grab a blanket and throw it over us as I put on a new crime drama I’ve been dying to watch. Jax doesn’t argue, just leans back, stretching his arm over the couch behind me. We both get way too invested, yelling at the screen when a character makes a stupid decision and tossing popcorn at each other when we disagree about who the killer is.
By the end of the second episode, I’m curled up against his side, his fingers tracing slow circles on my knee.
Then his phone rings.
I tense, expecting him to get up and take it outside like he always does when it’s club business. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stays put and answers it right there, his other hand still resting on my leg.
His face darkens almost instantly. “Is she okay?”
I sit up, watching as his jaw tightens.
“That motherfucker,” he growls. “We need to do something now before this goes any further. I won’t let anyone else get hurt because of him.”
He nods as he listens, then glances at me. His expression softens just slightly, and he reaches for my hand, pulling it to his mouth, pressing a kiss against my knuckles before speaking again.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
He ends the call and drops his phone on the side table, exhaling heavily.
“You gotta go?” I ask, already bracing myself.
He shakes his head. “No. I’m staying.”
Something warm blooms in my chest at that, but I push it down. “Everything okay? Did someone get hurt?”
Jax sighs, dragging a hand over his face. “Carlie was out with the twins when one of the old guys who left the club approached her. He was an asshole, got aggressive, but didn’t touch her. She was shaken up and called Mason. He’s pissed.”
My stomach drops. “Oh my god. I’m glad she and the boys didn’t get hurt.”
He nods. “Yeah, but this shit’s escalating.” His jaw flexes, his hand still holding mine. “I should’ve known those fuckers wouldn’t just walk away. But now they’re making it personal, and I can’t let that slide.”
I squeeze his hand. “What’s Mason going to do?”
Jax exhales sharply. “Not sure yet. But I’ll be there tomorrow to figure it out.”
I watch him carefully, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. I can see it—the tension in his shoulders, the storm in his eyes.
And maybe I shouldn’t, maybe I should hold back, but I shift closer anyway, resting my head against his shoulder.
Jax doesn’t move for a second, like he’s waiting for me to change my mind, but then he tightens his grip on my hand, his thumb brushing slow circles over my skin. He exhales, the sound deep, almost relieved, before pressing his lips to my hair.
“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. “I hope you know that.”
Something about the way he says it—like he doesn’t expect me to say it back, like he just needs me to hear it—hits me right in the chest.
I close my eyes for a second, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body pressed against mine. I do know he loves me. That was never the problem. The problem was whether love alone was enough. I shift, tilting my head so I can look up at him. His eyes meet mine, and for once, they’re completely open—no walls, no guarded edges, just Jax . I squeeze his hand. “I love you, too.” His breath stutters, just barely, but I feel it. “But Jax…” I hesitate, trying to find the words. “I need more than words. I need to know this isn’t temporary. That I’m not going to wake up one day and feel like I’m on the outside of your life again.”
His jaw tightens, his fingers flexing around mine. “You won’t.”
I hold his gaze. “Then show me.”
Something flickers behind his eyes—not hesitation, not doubt, but determination . He nods once. “I will.”
After the third episode, Jax stretches, then sighs. “I should go, baby. Gotta let Oreo out.”
I nod, knowing this was coming. The night was always going to end, and no matter how much I want to keep him here, I’m not ready to take that next step yet.
He stands, pulling on his boots, then shrugs into his cut, adjusting it over his shoulders like the second skin it is. I get up and follow him to the door, my mind racing the whole way.
I hate that he’s leaving. I don’t want him to go. But I also don’t know if I’m ready to go back to his place— our place. And what do I do about my stuff? Do I just leave it there like I’ll eventually come back? I guess we’re still together, right? I mean, he’s here. We’re here. But it’s not like things just snap back into place overnight.
Jax pauses at the door, watching me, and I know he sees me thinking too hard. His fingers brush under my chin, tilting my face up to his. “What’s going on in that pretty head?”
I hesitate for a second before answering. “I’m not ready to come back yet.”
He nods, no hesitation, no frustration. “I get that.” His voice is low and steady. “I’m not rushing you, baby. But know that I want you home as soon as you’re ready.”
Something about the way he says it settles the unease in my chest. He’s not asking if I’ll come back. He’s just waiting for when .
I nod. “Okay.”
Jax leans in, kissing me slow and deep—like he’s telling me without words that he’ll be back, that this isn’t the end of the night, just a pause. Then he pulls away, his fingers lingering at my waist before he steps back.
Watching him leave hurts .
A big part of me wants to go with him—to climb onto the back of his bike, press myself against him, and go back to the life we were building before. But the fear lingers. The fear that if I go back now, nothing will change. That I’ll slip right back into the same cycle—on the outside looking in, waiting for him to let me in. That’s not enough for me. I don’t want pieces of a person. I want all of him. And after tonight, for the first time, I feel like he’s trying —really trying —to give me that.