Chapter 17 – Jaxon
“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath, running a hand through my hair. I wanted to give her space, to let her breathe, but if she was leaving... no. I couldn’t let it end like this.
I should’ve known better. I should’ve controlled myself, kept my goddamn mouth shut instead of saying something so cruel. But I hadn’t. And now, she was packing her things and convincing herself that leaving was her only option.
I couldn’t take it a second longer. The sound of her quiet sniffles, the tension radiating from behind the door — it all clawed at me, relentless and unforgiving. My resolve crumbled under the weight of it, and before I could overthink, I cracked the door open.
The soft creak of the hinges felt deafening in the quiet, and for a moment, I hesitated, my hand hovering over the edge of the door. But then I saw her.
And my heart broke.
She was standing by the bed, her back to me, shoving clothes into a bag with jerky, unsteady movements. Her shoulders were trembling, and when I stepped inside, I saw her face — tear-streaked, her lips pressed into a tight, trembling line.
“Maddie, stop,” I said softly, stepping fully into the room.
She didn’t turn around, didn’t acknowledge me. Her hands fumbled with the zipper of the bag as she muttered to herself, her voice thick with tears. “This was a mistake. All of it. I should’ve known better. I should’ve... I should’ve just stayed on my own.”
I took another step closer, my voice low and steady, even though my chest felt like it was caving in. “Don’t. Don’t do this. Please.”
Her hands stilled for a moment, gripping the edge of the bag tightly, but she didn’t look at me.
“I don’t need you, Jaxon.” Her voice broke, but she kept going, gesturing around the room with a sharp, desperate motion. “I’ve been fine on my own. This—” she gestured again, angrily — “was a horrible idea. I don’t even know why I let myself think it’d be different.”
“Because it is different,” I said softly, stepping closer.
She froze, her breath hitching as she stared at me, her eyes glassy with tears.
“I know I crossed a line,” I continued, my voice steady but quiet. “I know I hurt you. I’m so sorry, honey. You didn’t deserve that.”
The word slipped out before I could stop it, soft and unguarded, and it hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. It wasn’t like me — wasn’t like the Jaxon she’d come to know, all walls and stoicism. It caught both of us off guard.
Her breath caught and her beautiful brown eyes widened, blinking up at me like she wasn’t sure if she’d heard me right.
Honey .
The word lingered, intimate in a way I hadn’t planned, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what had possessed me to say it. It wasn’t calculated or intentional — it was just… real. Honest.
That realization hit me like a punch to the gut.
I’d spent weeks trying to keep my distance, trying to hold the line between protector and something else, something more. But in that moment, standing here in front of her, raw and unfiltered, the truth slipped out.
She didn’t say anything, but the faintest flicker of surprise softened her features, breaking through the anger and hurt.
She blinked, her tears falling silently now, and for a moment, she looked like she didn’t know what to do with my words. Her shoulders were still tense, her hands gripping the edge of her bag like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
She looked so damn broken. Her nose was red from crying. A soft tinge of pink brushed her cheeks, her vulnerability showing through in a way she couldn’t seem to hide. Strands of her hair had fallen loose, framing her face, and she let it hang there, as if she were trying to use it as a shield to hide herself from me, from everything.
It was like watching her build a wall and crumble under it at the same time.
“I’m not good at this,” I admitted, my voice breaking slightly. “At saying the right thing. At — at dealing with this kind of thing. I swear to you, I didn’t mean what I said. Not at all. I just—” I ran a hand down my face, swallowing hard, forcing the words out even though they felt too raw, too exposed. “I was scared, Scout. So fucking scared of what could happen to you. When Quinn came running in to tell me what had happened… I was blinded with white-hot fucking rage, and I didn’t know what to do with it.”
She was staring at me now, her breath unsteady, her arms crossed like she was trying to hold herself together. Her tears had slowed, but her eyes were still glassy, and she wasn’t saying anything.
I took another step forward, careful not to crowd her, my voice low and steady even though my chest felt like it was splitting open. “You don’t understand what that did to me. Hearing that someone called you, that they got to you — again. Seeing your face afterward. The fear there, Scout… that destroyed me.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t look away.
“All I could think was that I let this happen,” I continued, my voice rougher now. “That I should’ve seen it coming, should’ve stopped it before it got anywhere near you.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, her gaze softened just enough to let me see the cracks beneath the surface.
“I failed you,” I said, my throat tightening. “And then I made it worse. I said things I never should’ve said. Things I didn’t mean — because I was scared. Scared of what could’ve happened. Scared of how much I fucking care about you.”
I dragged a hand down my face, trying to find the right words, trying to undo the damage I’d caused. “You’re not just some job to me, Madeline. You’re not a burden. You’re… more.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, her eyes searching mine, but she didn’t say anything.
“I think you’ve known that,” I continued, my voice softer now, “since the moment I found you sneaking around in places you shouldn’t be.”
Her lips twitched, almost like she wanted to smile, but it was gone in an instant. Instead, her gaze dropped, her hair falling into her face again as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself.
Her breath hitched, and she looked away, blinking rapidly. “You’re saying all the right things,” she murmured, her voice thick.
“Because I mean them,” I said, stepping closer. I was just a few inches away now, but I didn’t reach for her — not yet.
I hesitated, my chest tightening as I watched the tears glisten in her eyes. Then, slowly, I took the bag she had half-packed and set it aside on the bed and then reached for her hand. As my fingers brushed against hers, hesitant, and when she didn’t pull away, I took it gently in mine.
It didn’t feel like enough. Nothing I said or did felt like enough.
Before I could think better of it, I dropped to my knees in front of her, still holding her hand in mine. Her eyes widened, startled, as I looked up at her, my voice trembling.
“Tell me what to do. Tell me what to say to make you see how sorry I am, how wrong I was to say that to you. I can’t stand knowing I hurt you.”
Before I could register her movements, Madeline reached out, her hand sliding around the back of my neck. Her fingers threaded through my hair, soft but firm, grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected. My breath hitched, and I leaned into her touch instinctively, closing my eyes as the tension in my chest eased just slightly.
She didn’t speak, but her touch said everything.
I shifted closer, my free arm wrapping gently around her leg, holding her like I was afraid she might slip away. For a moment, we stayed like that—her hand in my hair, my head resting lightly against her thigh, the weight of the moment settling between us.
“I am so scared,” I murmured finally, my voice low and rough. “Not just of someone threatening you, but of how much I…” I trailed off and swallowed my pride, “It’s not just about keeping you safe, Scout. It’s about you. All of you.”
Her fingers stilled for a moment, pausing in my hair, and I held my breath, unsure of what she would do next. Then, slowly, they moved again, softer this time, her touch gentler, like she was letting herself feel the connection between us.
“I don’t know if I can trust that,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
Her words gutted me, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I tightened my hold around her leg, steadying both of us. “Then let me show you,” I said quietly, looking up at her. “Every damn day, for as long as it takes.”
Her breath caught, and her gaze dropped to meet mine. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she didn’t look away. She was searching, I could feel it — trying to find something in me that could make her believe it, make her trust.
“I’m tired, Jax,” she whispered, fresh tears spilling over. “I’m so tired.”
I shifted closer, my hand sliding up her thigh with deliberate slowness, my fingers skimming over her skin in a way that sent a shiver through both of us. Her breath came sharper, and I paused, my palm resting just above her knee, testing the waters. I watched her carefully, waiting for any sign she wanted me to stop.
She didn’t.
Instead, her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.
Emboldened by her silence, I let my hand travel higher, my grip tightening slightly, just enough to ground her.
“Let me carry it for a while, baby,” I murmured, my voice low, roughened by everything I was feeling and couldn’t quite say. My thumb stroked her thigh in a slow, rhythmic motion, coaxing. “Put all of it on me. I’ll take it. Every damn bit of it.”
The words felt familiar the moment they left my mouth, and my chest tightened as I realized why. She’d said them to me, when the nightmares had me in their snare and she’d wrapped herself around me like a lifeline. “Let me carry it for a while,” she’d whispered.
The words slipped out before I could stop myself, soft and intimate in a way I’d rarely allowed myself to be with her before.
The second it was out there, something shifted inside me, like the ground had cracked open under my feet. It wasn’t just the words I was saying — it was what it meant. It was the weight behind it, the truth I hadn’t let myself see until now.
I froze for half a second, my thumb pausing mid-stroke as the realization hit me like a freight train.
I’m in love with her.
The thought was as terrifying as it was undeniable. I’d been circling around it for weeks now, burying it under excuses, under rules, under every fucking thing I could think of to keep her at arm’s length. But it had taken this moment — her tears, her trembling, the hurt I’d caused — to make me admit it to myself.
I hated it.
I hated that it had taken me hurting her, saying things I never should’ve said, for me to figure it out. Hated that I’d had to see her like this — broken, vulnerable, doubting me — for it to finally click.
She stiffened slightly, her breath catching as what I was saying registered, and her wide, tear-filled eyes lifted to mine. I saw the way it hit her, the way it broke through her defences just a little, and it only made the guilt twist deeper in my gut.
She doesn’t even know, I thought bitterly, my chest tightening as I looked at her.
Doesn’t know how much she means to me. How much she’s in my fucking head. And she sure as hell doesn’t know that I’m falling for her so hard I don’t know how to stop.
Her breath shuddered, and I felt her body lean infinitesimally closer, her resolve faltering just enough for me to feel it. The faintest nod followed — a small, hesitant motion — but it was enough to shatter the tension that had been holding us both hostage.
I let my hand linger on her thigh for a beat longer, letting her feel the weight of my touch, the promise behind it. Slowly, I let my fingers trail over her skin as I pulled away, releasing her leg with a lingering stroke that left goosebumps in its wake.
As I rose to my feet, I moved carefully, not wanting to break whatever fragile thing we’d just built between us. I could feel her eyes on me, her breath still unsteady as I straightened to my full height.
Her lips parted again, her tongue darting out to wet them, and it took everything in me not to lean in, to not close the distance between us. My chest ached with the effort it took to hold back, to not take more than she was ready to give.
“Madeline,” I murmured, searching her face as I stood in front of her. She didn’t back away, but the uncertainty in her eyes still gripped me, making me tread carefully.
I reached out slowly, hesitating for a moment before wrapping my hands gently around her arms. I could feel the tension in her body, the way her muscles stiffened under my touch, but she didn’t pull away.
I couldn’t stand the space between us, couldn’t stand the way she was looking at me like she didn’t know whether to trust me or run.
“Please let me hold you right now?” I said softly, my voice raw with emotion, the words barely audible.
Her lips parted, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. Her gaze flickered, searching mine, and I could see the battle waging inside her.
I tightened my grip just slightly, anchoring her, steadying myself. “I need to, baby,” I added, my voice breaking at the edges. “I need to hold you and make sure you’re okay. Please.”
Her chin quivered, her tears falling faster now as she looked down. After what felt like an eternity, she nodded. Just barely, but it was enough to shatter the wall between us.
Relief crashed over me, and I didn’t waste a second.
She let out a breath, her resolve crumbling as I tugged her gently against me. Her body was tense at first, rigid with the weight of everything she was carrying, but then she sagged into me, her arms slipping around my waist.
For a moment, I just stood there, cradling her against me, my chin resting lightly on the top of her head.
It wasn’t enough.
I pulled back just enough to tilt her chin up, brushing a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “I’ve got you, Scout,” I murmured, my voice steady.
Before she could say anything, I shifted my grip, my hands sliding under her thighs as I lifted her effortlessly. She gasped softly, her arms instinctively tightening around my shoulders as I pulled her closer.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, her face burying into the crook of my neck. I held her securely, my arms locking around her as if I could shield her from everything — every fear, every hurt, every fucking thing that dared to harm her.
Her breath was hot against my skin, shallow and uneven, and I felt her fingers clutching the fabric of my shirt like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the moment. The warmth of her body against mine sent a surge of protectiveness through me, raw and overwhelming, but there was something else, too. Something deeper, sharper.
I let my hands move, one settling at the small of her back while the other pressed against her thigh, holding her firmly against me. My thumb brushed over the curve of her hip, a slow, unconscious motion that felt as natural as breathing. She trembled slightly, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with mine, and I tightened my hold instinctively, like letting her go wasn’t an option.
She didn’t speak, but I could feel her shaking against me, her breath warm against my skin as her tears dampened my shirt. I pressed my lips gently against her temple, murmuring, “I’m so fucking sorry…”
For a moment, she stayed like that, tense and trembling, as if she was holding on to the last scraps of her resistance. My arms tightened around her instinctively, trying to steady her, trying to steady both of us.
Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I know,” I murmured, my lips brushing against her hair. “You should be.”
She let out a soft, uneven breath, her hands clutching at the fabric of my shirt as if she didn’t trust herself to let go. “You don’t get to say things like that, Jaxon. You don’t get to...”
“I know,” I said again, the weight of her words pressing heavy on my chest. “And I swear to you, I’ll never do it again. I’ll never go there again. I was angry, and scared, and I had no right. No fucking—” I broke off, shaking my head against her. “I fucked up. Badly. But I will spend every day making it right if you let me.”
She didn’t answer right away, her breath still shaky against my neck. I felt her shift slightly, her forehead pressing into the crook of my shoulder like she was hiding — from the world, from me, maybe even from herself.
Madeline let out a delicate sob, the sound breaking something deep inside me. For the first time, her arms tightened around me, pulling me closer instead of holding me at arm’s length. It wasn’t a conscious gesture, more like instinct, but it was enough. Enough to tell me she wasn’t letting go.
I didn’t move, didn’t speak. I just held her like she was the most precious thing in the world.
Because she was.