Chapter 35
Nineteen hours later, Jax sat in his car and stared at the pale yellow house across the street. A tire swing hung from a tree in the yard, and he imagined Ralph’s son or daughter playing there alone.
Had Jessa had a boy or a girl? Either way, it ate Jax up inside to think of the child growing up without the dad who would have loved him so much.
The child would be beautiful, he was sure. Even half of Jessa’s genes would have made certain of that. He imagined she’d had a girl with black hair like her own, the Cherokee blood showing strong in the little girl’s face.
And she’d never know her father.
It was Jax’s fault. All of it. His decisions had gotten Ralph killed, and Jax ate, slept, and bathed with the weight of that responsibility every day.
He’d driven all night to get here, not stopping to sleep and barely allowing himself to think as the seasons flew by his window. He owed Jessa that much. Hell, he owed her a lot more than this, but that was a debt he’d always be unable to pay.
Fatigue pulled at him, weighing him down as he stepped out of his car and made his way up the walk, flanked by rows of pink and purple flowers on either side.
What had the last two years been like for her?
Grief could change people — make them bitter — but she’d have had to stay strong for the child. Surely the baby would have brought her joy despite everything she’d lost, tempering the blow.
Maybe she’d even remarried.
The thought put him off. His own mind had yet to move on from Ralph’s death, and he couldn’t believe she would have been able to, either, even though the men must be on her like bees on honey.
She was a spitfire — all long legs and loud laughter that made it clear Ralph was the light of her life. She just glowed, in a way he’d never seen a woman glow. She was…mesmerizing.
He rang the bell and waited, his palms damp.
The front door opened and she appeared, her dark hair hanging straight to her waist, just as he remembered.
His chest felt tight. “Hi, Jessa.”
Something was different, an aloofness in her stare, and he was disappointed the light he remembered wasn’t shining today.
“Jax.” She crossed her arms and leaned on the doorjamb. “What are you doing here?”
The action pushed her breasts together and her cleavage poked out of her shirt. Tiny beads of sweat dotted her chest, along with a rosy flush, as if she’d been working hard.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
She hesitated before stepping back for him to enter. The living room was nearly empty, a few open boxes scattered about and the carpet rolled up, a broom leaning against a wall.
“Are you moving?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He was aware of the tension in the air, the way she didn’t invite him to sit down or ask how he’d been, but he longed to know how she’d managed with the baby and where they were going now.
He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“You look tired,” she said.
“I drove all night.”
“Why?”
Eight hundred days he’d been waiting to say the words, more than two years of wishing for this moment to arrive, imagining what it would be like to ease her pain the only way he could. “We got him, Jessa. Steele is dead.”
The slightest lift of her chin was the only indication she’d heard him. She almost looked…
Angry.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry it took so long. I wanted to take him down earlier, I really did, but…”
“Get out.”
“What?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Get out of my house.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you’d be happy.”
She pointed to the door with her whole arm. “Take your sorry, cowardly ass, and get the fuck out of my house, now.”
He’d never heard her swear, never seen her angry at anyone, and he wondered where the baby was that she would use language like that without concern.
She was always so gentle, so kind.
She hates me.
That much was clear.
He nodded. He walked to the door, then met her eyes one last time. “I’m sorry, Jessa. I really am. If you knew how often I think about you and the baby…”
She stood up and stormed to the door. “Just go!”
It was then that he really saw the pain, the tears waiting to burst from her eyes and the tightness she held in her shoulders.
He stepped out into the sunny day, his eyes catching again on the pink and purple flowers that hinted at happiness inside, and turned back to her. “What happened?” he asked.
Her face crumpled and she slammed the door between them.