Chapter 9
NINE
AINSLEY
The sound of hammering wakes me from a light nap.
For a moment, I lie there in the dim bedroom, disoriented, my heart racing the way it always does when I'm pulled from sleep too quickly. Then I remember where I am, at the cottage.
I exhale slowly and push myself up, wincing slightly at the lingering soreness in my ribs. It's better than it was a few days ago but I'm still tender in places. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, padding quietly to the window.
Outside, Jax and Knox are working on the porch.
I watch them for a moment, my hand resting against the window frame.
Jax is crouched near the steps, his shirt clinging to his back with sweat as he measures a piece of wood. Knox is standing a few feet away, holding a level against one of the porch railings, his brow furrowed in concentration.
They move with an easy rhythm, passing tools back and forth without needing to speak. It's clear they've done this a thousand times before, working together, anticipating each other's needs, perfectly in sync.
I don't know how long I stand there watching them.
Long enough that the tension in my shoulders starts to ease.
Long enough that I stop waiting for something bad to happen.
Owen stirs in his crib behind me, letting out a soft whimper. I turn and scoop him up before he can fully wake, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"Hey, sweet boy," I murmur. "Did you have a good nap?"
He blinks up at me, his little fist curling around a strand of my hair. Then he yawns, his mouth opening wide, and I can't help but smile.
"Come on," I say softly. "Let's see what those two are up to."
I step out onto the porch, Owen balanced on my hip, and both brothers look up immediately.
"Hey," Jax says, straightening. His green eyes sweep over me, checking, always checking, to make sure I'm okay. "We didn't wake you, did we?"
"No," I say quickly. "I was already awake."
Knox sets the level down and wipes his hands on his jeans. "How're you feeling?"
"Good," I say. And I mean it.
For the first time in days, maybe weeks, I actually feel good .
Jax grins. "We're almost done out here. Just fixing the railing and reinforcing a couple of the steps."
"You didn't have to do that," I say.
"We know," Knox says simply. "We wanted to."
I look between them, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in my chest.
"Thank you," I say quietly.
Jax's grin softens into something gentler. "Anytime, Ainsley."
Owen babbles happily, reaching out toward Knox. Knox's expression shifts immediately, his usual intensity melting into something almost tender as he steps closer.
"Hey, little man," he says, his voice low and rough.
Owen squeals and kicks his legs, and I laugh.
"I think he likes you," I say.
"Good," Knox says. "Because I like him too."
I watch as Knox reaches out and gently ruffles Owen's hair, and something inside me cracks open just a little bit more.
I go back inside and set Owen down in his playpen with a few toys. He immediately grabs his favorite stuffed dinosaur and starts chewing on its tail, content.
I stand there for a moment, looking around the cottage.
It's starting to feel like a home.
The kitchen is stocked with food Scarlett brought. The living room has a cozy couch and a soft rug Tessa insisted I needed. Owen's room is bright and cheerful, decorated with the dinosaur decals Tessa put up.
And outside, Jax and Knox are fixing the porch.
For me and Owen. Because they want to.
I take a deep breath and make a decision.
An hour later, I'm standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta sauce on the stove.
It's nothing fancy, just spaghetti and garlic bread, but it's something I can do. Something I want to do.
I haven't cooked a real meal in months.
Justin never let me. He said I was a terrible cook, that I always burned things or made them too salty. He'd criticize every meal I made until I stopped trying altogether.
But this isn't for Justin.
This is for Jax and Knox.
And maybe, just a little bit, for me.
I hear the front door open and close, followed by the sound of boots on the hardwood floor.
"Something smells amazing," Jax says, appearing in the kitchen doorway.
I glance over my shoulder and smile. "It's just spaghetti."
"Just spaghetti?" He grins. "That's my favorite."
Knox appears behind him, his hair damp with sweat, his shirt streaked with dirt. "You didn't have to cook."
"I know," I say, echoing his words from earlier. "I wanted to."
Knox's hazel eyes hold mine for a long moment, and I see something flicker there, something warm and possessive and proud .
"Stay for dinner?" I ask, my voice quieter now. "Both of you?"
Jax doesn't hesitate. "Hell yes."
Knox just nods, but the corner of his mouth twitches up in what might be the beginning of a smile.
We eat at the small kitchen table, Owen in his high chair between us, happily gumming a piece of garlic bread.
At first, I'm nervous.
I keep waiting for the criticism. For the complaints. For the moment when one of them tells me I did something wrong.
But it doesn't come.
Instead, Jax takes a bite and groans. “This is so good, Ainsley. Seriously.”
“It’s just sauce from a jar,” I say, embarrassed.
“Doesn’t matter,” Knox says. “It’s perfect.”
I look down at my plate, my cheeks warming.
“You okay?” Jax asks gently.
I nod. “Yeah. I just… I haven’t cooked for anyone in a long time.”
“Well, you should,” Jax says. “Because this is amazing.”
I take a bite of my own food, and for the first time in months, I actually taste it. It is good.
Jax reaches for another piece of garlic bread, then leans back in his chair.
“Okay, so last week we were at this place out by the lake. Fancy house. Big money. Guy wants this massive Japanese maple moved from the front yard to the back. No problem, right? We dig the thing up, get it on the trailer, everything’s fine. ”
Knox snorts into his glass. “Until it wasn’t.”
“Until it wasn’t,” Jax agrees, grinning. “We’re halfway around the house and the trailer hitch decides it’s done with life. Just snaps. Tree goes sideways. Dirt everywhere. And then, this is the best part, the guy’s wife comes running out screaming that we just killed her ‘spirit tree.’”
I laugh, covering my mouth with my napkin.
Knox’s voice is bone-dry. “She started talking to it. Apologizing. Offering it crystals.”
“She did,” Jax says, cracking up. “Full-on conversation with the tree while we’re standing there covered in mud trying not to laugh. Knox looked like he was about to walk into traffic.”
“I considered it,” Knox says, completely straight-faced.
I laugh so hard I almost choke on my water. Jax reaches across the table for the last piece of garlic bread and I don’t flinch. Knox stands, fills my glass without a word, and I don’t tense. I just… relax.
Owen babbles happily, smacking his hands against the tray of his high chair, and both brothers turn to look at him with matching expressions of affection.
“Da-da-da,” Owen says, his voice high and cheerful.
Jax grins. “You hear that, Knox? He’s talking to us.”
Knox’s expression softens in a way I’ve never seen before. “Yeah. I heard.”
I watch them with Owen, my chest tight with something I can’t quite name.
This feels like a family. For the first time in my life, this feels like home.
After dinner, I start to stand to clear the table, but Jax waves me off.
"Sit," he says. "We've got this."
"You don't have to.”
"We know," Knox says, already stacking plates. "We want to."
I sink back into my chair, too surprised to argue.
And then I just... watch.
Jax and Knox move around the kitchen with the same easy rhythm they had outside. Jax washes the dishes while Knox dries and puts them away. They don't need to talk, they just know where everything goes, how the other moves, what needs to be done next.
It's mesmerizing.
At one point, Jax flicks water at Knox, and Knox retaliates by snapping the dish towel at Jax's ass.
I laugh, a real, genuine laugh that bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me.
Both of them freeze and turn to look at me.
"What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
"Nothing," Jax says, his grin widening. "Just... you should laugh more often."
"It's a good sound," Knox adds quietly.
I duck my head, my cheeks warming again.
By the time they finish, Owen is starting to fuss, rubbing his eyes with his little fists.
"I should get him ready for bed," I say, standing.
"Need help?" Jax asks.
I hesitate, then nod. "Actually... yeah. If you don't mind."
Knox steps forward. "I'll take him."
I hand Owen over, and Knox cradles him against his chest with surprising gentleness.
"Come on, little man," Knox murmurs. "Let's get you cleaned up."
I follow them into Owen's room, watching as Knox lays him down on the changing table and starts unbuttoning his onesie.
"You're good at this," I say softly.
Knox glances at me. "I've got a lot of nieces and nephews. You pick things up."
I smile. "Well, you're a natural."
Knox doesn't respond, but I see the way his jaw tightens, the way his hands are extra careful as he changes Owen's diaper and dresses him in his pajamas.
When he's done, he picks Owen up and rocks him gently, humming something low and rough under his breath.
Owen's eyes start to droop, his little body going limp against Knox's chest.
After Owen’s breathing finally evens out, Knox carefully lays him in the crib and pulls the blanket up to his chest. We both stand there for a second, watching him sleep.
Jax appears in the doorway, voice low. “He out?”
“Yeah,” Knox answers.
I reach over and brush a soft curl off Owen’s forehead, then step back. “Okay. Let’s let him sleep.”
We ease the door almost shut and walk back down the short hall.
The living room feels quieter now, the only light coming from the lamp in the corner and the soft glow of the kitchen behind us.
Jax drops onto one end of the couch. Knox takes the other.
There’s space in the middle, and for a second I hesitate.
Jax pats the cushion between them. “C’mere.”
I sit. The couch dips a little under my weight. Neither of them moves away.