Chapter 19 Jaxon
Jaxon
The door swings open before we even reach it, and Jaylynn barrels straight past me like I’m invisible, wrapping Rowyn in one of her signature rib-crushing hugs.
“I’m so glad you guys could make it,” she squeals, bouncing a little on her toes.
“Uh, hello…” I say, raising the massive salad bowl I’m holding as evidence that I, too, exist.
“Oh, please,” she scoffs, already dragging Rowyn inside by the wrist. I’m left standing on the steps, holding the salad like a forgotten offering to the gods of neglect.
“How about I just let myself in?” I call after them. “Or better yet, give me a fork and I’ll eat this masterpiece out here alone like a sad bachelor.”
Jaylynn stops mid-step and gives the salad a suspicious side-eye, then looks back at me. “Okay, fine. If you’re going to be like that.”
She snatches the bowl from my hands and turns to Rowyn with a grin that could power the whole block. “I’ve had this before at the inn. It’s so good.” She lowers her voice dramatically. “Let’s just see if it’s as good as his mother’s, shall we?”
I arch a brow. “Wow. Weaponized compliments now, huh?”
Rowyn laughs, giving me a soft elbow to the ribs. “Play nice.”
She doesn’t know how close I am to teasing back, but her laughter settles me. I love that sound. Too much.
We step inside, greeted by the smell of roasted garlic, something cheesy in the oven, and the faint buzz of laughter from the living room. The place feels alive, cozy, and homey, which hits me in a weird spot I wasn’t prepared for.
Ash and Gina appear in the foyer. “I hope you don’t mind that we’re crashing,” Gina says, pulling Rowyn into a hug.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” Rowyn says. “I know you’re run off your feet.”
Gina rolls her eyes with a good-natured groan. “With the Bucks in the finals, the café’s packed. Everyone’s after autographs or selfies or to ‘accidentally’ spill coffee on their favorite player. Hopefully things calm down soon.”
Then she pauses, her grin faltering just a little. “Wait. Did I just wish for my business to quiet down?” She shakes her head, laughing at herself. “To think I begged the universe for customers a few years ago.”
Jaylynn waves the women toward her. “Come on, let’s pour a few glasses. Give the guys a minute to talk shop and get it out of their system before dinner.”
“Do you want to talk shop with them?” Gina teases, raising an eyebrow.
“Nope,” Jaylynn says. “Someday, I just want to sit with my girls, drink wine, and not hear one word about blades, bruises, or power plays. Work is work, and I love it, but this…” She gestures between the three of them in a soft, sweeping motion. “This is what makes it all worthwhile.”
The air softens for a moment, the kind of stillness that feels like friendship settling deep into the walls.
I glance at Rowyn and catch the faintest wobble in her smile. It’s there and gone in a blink, but I see it. The reminder that what we’re doing, this cozy couple act, isn’t real. Not really. And yet she fits so perfectly into the moment, it hurts a little.
Before I can overthink it, I lean in and brush my lips against hers, light and quick but real enough to make her breath hitch.
“Have a few glasses,” I murmur near her ear. “I’m driving.”
Her lips curve up, and damn if my chest doesn’t go warm all over.
Jaylynn, however, looks like she’s about to combust. She bites down on her bottom lip, eyes wide and so obviously trying not to squeal. I can practically see her brain taking notes for the group chat later.
And just like that, my heart sinks. Christ. Rookie move, Jaxon. The last thing I need is Jaylynn whispering that maybe I’ve caught feelings. Because if she plants even the idea in Rowyn’s head, it could wreck everything.
What are your motives, Jaxon?
I tighten my jaw. To help Rowyn get her guy.
Period.
Even if some part of me, the part that just kissed her like I meant it, isn’t so sure that maybe I want to be that guy.
“Someone’s looking to get lucky tonight,” Gina murmurs under her breath as she passes by, and I nearly choke on air.
The guys laugh, and Penn claps me on the back, steering me toward the living room like he’s guiding a nervous rookie into the locker room.
Next thing I know, a cold beer materializes in my hand, and we’re knee-deep in hockey talk—stats, playoff chatter, trade rumors, and enough curse words to melt the varnish off the coffee table.
Once the conversation settles, Ash glances my way, expression softening. “Hey, sorry about my dad earlier. He’s… old school. Doesn’t trust the media.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I say, shrugging. “None of us really do. Comes with the territory. No hard feelings.”
“That fucking Billy,” Penn growls, shaking his head. “Guy gives the whole industry a bad name. But we know Rowyn’s not like that. So none of us have to worry.”
I nod, grateful, but also a little defensive, like I need to protect her reputation with my life.
Ash grins. “That’s right. I forgot you grew up with her too, Penn.” He takes a swig of beer and gestures toward the kitchen with his bottle. “If you guys trust her, then we do too. And by the sound of it, she’s already passed the WAG initiation.”
I glance toward the kitchen, where laughter spills out, bright, full of warmth. Rowyn’s laugh rises above the rest, soft and melodic, and something about it tugs at me.
The WAGs really are a solid crew. They’ve seen everything—fangirls, flings, and the occasional fame chaser—but they’ve always been generous and kind.
Still, it makes me wonder. If some woman came along with an agenda, would they catch on?
Or would they welcome her in, unguarded and trusting, the way they’ve welcomed Rowyn?
Not that Rowyn would ever use anyone. She’s the last person who’d trade sincerity for headlines.
“Done gossiping?” Gina calls from the doorway, one brow arched.
Busted.
We all laugh as we follow her into the kitchen. The table looks like something out of a magazine—roast beef glistening, potatoes piled high, veggies. We all help carry the rest of the dishes to the dining room, the easy rhythm of family and friends sliding into place.
Once we’re seated, Gina looks around the quiet table and laughs. “It’s so peaceful. Weird, right?” She turns to Rowyn, eyes bright. “Usually we’ve got our two kids, Grant, and Maria’s boys running around. It’s chaos.”
Ash chuckles. “Glorious chaos.”
Gina rests a hand on his arm. “We love it.”
Jaylynn glances over at me, eyes playful. “Growing up at the inn, I bet it was always like that for you. Just being there at Christmas was loud, but fun. I don’t think there was ever a moment of silence.”
I smile, nostalgia curling through my chest. “There’s something to be said for loud chaos. You never feel alone when there’s always someone shouting your name from another room.”
“Or stealing your food,” Penn adds, smirking.
“That too.” I laugh. “Character-building.”
Plates clatter, conversation flows, and for a moment it feels like we’re all suspended in that easy kind of comfort that only comes from good food and better company.
Then Gina turns to Rowyn. “What was it like for you growing up in Snowberry?”
The shift is subtle but instant. I feel Rowyn stiffen beside me. Instinct kicks in. I rest my hand on her thigh under the table, giving a quick reassuring squeeze. Her muscles ease, just a little.
“It was quiet, actually,” she explains, her voice even but softer. “Just Mom and me.”
Penn jumps in, saving her from the spotlight. “Like Aunt Elaine and me,” he says cheerfully, piling an impressive scoop of potatoes on his plate. “One of these days, we’ll fill this house with chaos, right, Jay?”
“Yes, but not right away.” Jaylynn shoots him a mock glare. “I’m so busy with work, and there’s still lots of time.” She turns to Rowyn, her tone easy again. “I’d imagine it’s the same for you. Your career must be pretty demanding.”
Rowyn smiles politely, though I can feel the tension beneath her calm exterior. Her fingers brush mine under the table, just a whisper of contact, but it’s says so much and is enough to make my heart hurt for her.
Deep down, I suspect this woman wants a family, children…the white picket fence, but it’s everything she was taught never to want.
“It is,” she says, her smile soft but thoughtful, like she’s holding back a whole story.
Jaylynn leans forward, curious. “Do you find it rewarding? All those long hours, late nights, chasing the story?”
Rowyn gives a smile that’s genuine, warm, but there’s something under it, something quiet that only I seem to notice. “It’s so rewarding,” she says.
“So… I guess it’ll be a while for kids for you too, huh?” Jaylynn adds, innocently enough.
Rowyn almost pales. I feel my stomach twist. “Um…uh.”
Jaylynn’s face flushes crimson. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Jaylynn stammers, waving her hands like she’s trying to erase the words. “I didn’t mean any pressure. Some people don’t ever want kids, and that’s perfectly okay too.”
There’s a pause, and then Gina chimes in, gentle but curious. “Your mom must be proud of you.”
Rowyn’s smile widens, and I can see the quiet pride in her eyes. “She’s very proud. All she ever wanted was for me to succeed.”
“And you did,” I murmur, letting my hand brush hers under the table, a small squeeze that she feels even if no one else does.
Gina’s eyes stay on her. “It can be hard, balancing a busy career and family life. Especially when we have the men away all the time, leaving us to pick up the slack.”
“I can imagine,” Rowyn says, nodding, but then quickly changes the subject. “You’re still pretty busy at work. Have you been able to find help?”
Gina sighs and takes a bite of salad, shaking her head. “Not yet. Unfortunately. I do have some interviews for a temporary afterschool nanny though, so hopefully that goes well…” Then her eyes widen, and she freezes mid-chew. “Wait, this salad! Jaxon, this is amazing.”
“Thanks,” I say, keeping it casual. “Old family recipe.”
“Yeah, but… did you make it? Or did your family send it from Vermont?”
Rowyn laughs beside me, eyes sparkling. “Can I tell them?”
“No,” I blurt, faster than I mean to.
Ash folds his arms, leaning back like he’s about to referee a debate. “Okay, now you have to tell us.”
“Nope,” I counter, folding my arms to match his, smug and playful. The girls all laugh, and Rowyn’s grin makes my chest tighten in a good way.
“What’s going on?” Jaylynn asks, tilting her head, gaze flicking between Rowyn and me.
“Fine,” I sigh, putting my hands on the table in surrender. “Tell them.”
Rowyn chuckles, her laugh filling the room, and says, “He’s a great cook…” She pauses, looking at me with that look that wraps my chest in warmth and pride and a little pinch of longing. “…and a great baker. You should taste his muffins.”
Muffins.
Jesus.
“You bake?” Gina blurts, eyes wide. “For real?”
“He does,” Rowyn answers for me, smirking. “He’s really good in the kitchen. Really good with his hands.”
I know she’s teasing. She’s totally messing with me.
“We could definitely use your help at the Nook,” Gina says.
“Can’t. Playoffs,” I answer quickly, digging into the roast beef to cover my slight embarrassment. I glance up to find everyone is watching me, all eyes expectant. “But after playoffs, sure. If you still need the help.”
“Really, Jaxon? That would be amazing,” Gina says, eyes lighting up. “I’m sure we’ll have help by then, but if not… I’d take you up on that in a heartbeat.”
“There’s a catch,” I say, leaning back casually.
“Oh?” She cocks a brow.
“You have to give me your cinnamon roll recipe. It’s called quid pro quo.”
Gina laughs out loud, light and melodic. “That’s a family secret.”
“I don’t make the rules, Gina,” I joke, holding up my hands like they’re a national treasure. “No recipe, no help.”
Rowyn laughs again, that sound curling around me like music I didn’t realize I’d been missing. She turns toward Gina, placing her hand on her arm. “Actually, Gina, I’m really awful in the kitchen, but I’d love to help with the kids—weekends, weeknights, whenever I don’t have to work too late.”
“I can help too, after playoffs,” Jaylynn adds. “Work slows down for me then.”
Gina goes quiet, blinking as if she’s trying to hold back tears. Finally, she sniffles. “You guys… you’re going to make me cry.”
“No tears needed,” Penn says, calm and steady. “We’re all family.”
I glance at him and smile. When he first joined the Bucks, he was guarded, wary, always calculating.
It came from his upbringing, an only child living on the outskirts of town—a story not that different from Rowyn’s.
Back in Snowberry Falls over Christmas, I did my best to involve him, to let him know he’s invited and welcome into the inner circle, because he’s wanted.
Now he’s one of us. Part of this messy, chaotic, warm family.
And I’m starting to realize, so is Rowyn. ..