Nine
LILY
“Well, looks like we’re suddenly very busy,” a younger guy with sandy blond hair and big, blue eyes says. Based on everything Jax has told me, this has to be Sean.
“Extremely busy,” the other man agrees. I assume this one is Noah. He’s tall like Jax, with dark hair and eyes. They almost look like they could be related. Not similar enough to be brothers, but they could easily pass for cousins.
Both men beeline for the door at the back of the garage that leads deeper into the building. Sean places a hand on Jax’s shoulder as he passes, the simple gesture threatening to thaw some of the ice that’s formed around my heart after a week of silence.
Jax nods at each of them, and they disappear through the door without another word.
The man I’ve been trying to reach for days stands across the lane from me, and I can’t figure out if I want to hug him or scream at him. I choose neither, folding my arms and stepping forward.
“You left.”
“Lily—”
I jerk a hand through the air, cutting him off.
“You left,” I repeat.
Jax shifts on his feet, but his expression is unreadable. I thought over the past couple of months, I was learning to figure him out, but he’s giving me nothing right now, and I hate it.
“You saw me wave and you drove away.”
My voice cracks on the last word, and a flicker of emotion crosses Jax’s face, the first crack in his stoic demeanor. I stare at him, trying to reconcile everything I experienced of him against everything I’ve heard.
Jax flexes his hands at his sides, knuckles cracking from the tension. He lets out a low sigh, shaking his head before moving closer to me.
“I saw you talking with Becca and Rachel,” he says as if that is explanation enough. And while I understand what he means, I’m not letting him off the hook that easily.
“I wasn’t standing there agreeing with them.”
“It looked like—”
“I don’t care what it looked like.”
“Lily…”
“I was defending you, Jax!”
He pauses at that, letting my words sink in. I lean on one hip, exasperated, and gesture for him to continue.
“I’m sure you heard some things.” His voice is low, a little unsure. He rubs the back of his neck anxiously.
“I heard some rumors, yeah.”
“Some of them are true.”
“Okay.” I shrug, casual and unbothered.
He steps back at my words, furrowing his brow and pulling a disbelieving face as if this was the last response he expected from me, which is probably true.
Jax shakes his head, dragging the hand at the back of his neck up through his hair, “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
The silence after my demand is deafening. Jax braces his hands against his hips, blowing out a breath. He’s stressed, the lines of his face deepening from the extended scowl, and it makes me feel a little better because if he didn’t still care, he wouldn’t be.
Jax looks at me, leveling me with his discerning gaze as though I’ve moved the Earth from under his feet and he hasn’t quite righted himself yet.
“My ex-wife cheated on me,” he says finally.
I don’t move or interrupt, but my chest tightens at the lingering hurt on his face. That kind of betrayal doesn’t just go away with time.
He swallows, jaw tightening.
“I didn’t handle it well.”
A humorless laugh slips out of him, like he hates admitting even that much out loud.
“I stopped sleeping. Stopped thinking straight at all. I did a hell of a lot of things I’m not proud of.
” His hands flex at his sides, like he doesn’t know what to do with them anymore.
“And then I got tired of being that guy—of letting her choices be the end of me, but you know how small-town life can be.”
His words are not just a confession, but a surrender.
A plea to be seen and understood.
The version of him I’ve been trying to reconcile with the version I’ve been hearing about suddenly makes a lot more sense, and I hate that it does. I hate that Bellewood would rather keep a man frozen in his worst chapter than let him move on from it.
I look at him for a long second. “I’m sorry that all happened to you. You didn’t deserve any of it. We all make questionable choices at rock bottom.”
Jax stands there, chewing the inside of his cheek with his eyes locked on the ground, and I can’t tell if he’s stuck in a memory or too embarrassed to look at me.
“You don’t have a corner on impulsive decisions, Jax.”
His brows furrow slightly, like he’s not exactly sure what I’m saying, but he lifts his eyes to mine anyway. I offer him a sad smile in return and keep going before I lose my nerve.
“I packed up my life and moved here after my breakup because I couldn’t stand staying somewhere everything reminded me of him.” My shoulders lift in a helpless shrug. “So if we’re comparing questionable coping mechanisms, I think I’m allowed to stay in this conversation.”
Jax’s shoulders drop, some of the tension finally releasing in his expression. It’s like he’s seeing me for the first time and realizing that I’m not whittling him down to the sum of all his mistakes.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to look at me differently,” he admits, voice dropped low and vulnerable in a way I don’t recognize.
His raw honesty has me swallowing against the lump forming in my throat. He steps forward, closing some of the distance between us.
“You were right, though,” I say just above a whisper. “I do see you differently now.”
Jax’s shoulders rise again. I let the silence stretch just long enough for him to feel the weight between us before I soften it. “I just don’t think it’s in the way you were worried about.”
He lets out a slow breath, jagged around the edges as if it physically hurts. For the first time since I walked in here, he looks less like a man holding himself together and more like one trying not to fall apart.
“I wasn’t a good man back then,” he reiterates, taking another step in my direction. “But I’ve left all of those reckless behaviors behind. I’ve been working toward a better future.”
I study him, really study him: the grease on his hands, the lingering tension in his jaw, the way he struggles to keep his distance, clearly unsure if he’s allowed to fully close it and come to me.
“That sounds…” My words drift off on a pause, searching for the right word that doesn’t reduce him to something less than he is. “Really hard.”
If my acceptance of his past shocked him, my understanding does him in.
His eyes flick away for a second, like he needs a break from the intimacy rising between us.
Like he can’t hold his emotions back anymore.
Without thinking, I step forward, reaching for him.
I slip my hands into his, squeezing gently against the warm, rough feel against my skin.
“You don’t get to decide if I’m strong enough to handle your past, Jax Mason.”
His gaze snaps back to mine.
“I wasn’t trying to protect you,” he says immediately.
A moment of heavy silence hangs between us.
“I was trying to protect me.”
His eyes shutter on the admission, and I swallow hard as he lays bare his deepest fear—that I would hold the power to destroy the life he’s pieced back together for himself. My chest clenches a little tighter at that, the rest of my anger slipping away to something more gentle.
“I get it, really I do. Like I said, I know what it looks like when someone is trying to outrun themselves.”
His jaw tightens at my observation, like he doesn’t know what to do with that either. For a second, I almost laugh, because of course I end up standing in a garage in the rain listening to a man confess to the worst version of himself, like it’s something that should scare me off.
When in reality, I’ve spent most of my adult life learning what it feels like to rebuild yourself from scratch out of the wreckage of someone else’s choices.
He looks at me like he’s afraid to assume anything, so I continue on and give him more of my truth.
“I didn’t just flee from a failed relationship.
I left everything behind. My apartment. My routine.
My entire life. I moved here because I couldn’t breathe there anymore.
” A small, wry smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it.
“So no, Jax. You don’t get a monopoly on messy exits.
I’ve been trying to outrun myself, too.”
Disbelief flickers across his face.
“You’re not…” he starts, then stops himself.
“Not what?” I prompt gently.
He exhales, shaking his head slightly. “Not what I expected. At all.”
I almost smile at that.
The rain outside gets louder for a second, tapping against the garage door in a steady rhythm. Jax drags a hand down his face, then looks at me again.
“Are you here because you feel sorry for me?”
The vulnerable edge lingers in his tone, but he tries to keep the question easy, not giving it too much weight in case the answer breaks him.
My response is immediate.
“No.”
I say it so fast that it has his head snapping back in surprise. A breathless laugh slips out of me.
“God, no.”
I cling tighter to his hands, closing the last of the space between us. My body brushes against his, finally close enough that I have to tilt my head all the way back to meet his eyes.
“There isn’t a damn thing to feel sorry for you about.”
A small breath leaves him, almost like a laugh that doesn’t quite make it out. His shoulders loosen as he moves his hands from mine to the small of my back.
“Then why are you here?” he whispers, dipping his head a little closer to mine. I inhale deeply—fresh laundry, black coffee, and that familiar smokiness that I dream about fills me.
My heart pounds in an erratic rhythm, my chest rises and falls. My wet jacket presses against his dry coveralls. The heat from his hands is a balm to my damp, chilled skin through my dripping clothes.
“You know why I’m here.”
I bite my lip, staring up at him.
“Then don’t let me stop you,” he says, voice teasing but full of want. He’s waiting for me to make the choice—always the gentleman.
And so I do.
I slide my hands up his chest, pulling him to me. He doesn’t resist, dipping his face down to mine, allowing our lips to meet without hesitation.
This kiss isn’t frantic like our first, nor heady like the stolen ones outside of the library. It’s steady and certain, knowing that we both are fully choosing this. No more running, no more hiding.
When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine like he’s trying to memorize the fact that I’m still here.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he breathes out.
Outside, the rain keeps falling.
“That’s okay, neither do I.”