Chapter 10 #3
We move to her bedroom slowly. I sit with my back against the headboard, and Ainsley settles between my legs, her back against my chest. Jax lies beside us, propped on one elbow, his hand resting on her thigh, not possessive, just present.
For a long moment, no one speaks.
I stroke her hair, feeling the tension slowly drain from her body. Jax's thumb traces slow circles on her leg, his eyes never leaving her face.
"I keep waiting for this to fall apart," she whispers finally.
"It won't," I say.
"You don't know that."
"I do." I tilt her chin up so she's looking at me. "Because we're not going anywhere. No matter what happens. No matter what you're afraid of."
"What if I'm not enough?" Her voice cracks. "What if I can't be what you need?"
Jax sits up, his hand moving to cup her face. "Ainsley. Look at me."
She does.
"You are everything we need. You don't have to be anything other than exactly who you are right now."
"But I'm broken," she whispers. "Justin broke me."
"No," I say firmly. "He hurt you. But you're not broken. You're here. You're fighting. You're healing. That's not broken, baby. That's strength."
She closes her eyes, tears streaming down her face. "I don't feel strong."
"You are," Jax says. "You're the strongest person I know."
I hold her tighter, feeling her shake against me. "Let it out. We've got you."
And she does. She cries, deep, wrenching sobs that seem to come from somewhere she's kept locked away for too long. Jax and I just hold her, our hands gentle, our presence steady.
When the tears finally slow, she's exhausted, her body limp against mine.
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
"Don't," Jax says. "Don't apologize for feeling."
"I just, I don't want to be this person anymore. The one who's always afraid."
"You won't be," I say. "Not forever. But right now, it's okay to be scared. We're not going anywhere."
She turns her face into my chest, and I press a kiss to the top of her head.
After a while, Jax stands. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
Ainsley looks up at him, confused. "What?"
"Shower," he says gently. "You'll feel better."
She hesitates, and I can see the fear creeping back in.
"We're not trying anything," I say quickly. "We just want to take care of you. That's all."
She searches my face, then Jax's, and finally nods.
In the small cottage bathroom, Jax starts the water while I help her stand. She's shaky, exhausted, and I keep my hands on her waist to steady her.
"Can you manage?" I ask.
She nods, but there's uncertainty in her eyes.
"We can stay," Jax offers. "Just to help. Nothing else."
She looks between us, then nods again. "Okay."
We help her undress slowly, carefully, our touches clinical and gentle. When she's under the warm spray, she closes her eyes and lets out a shaky breath.
Jax grabs the shampoo and works it through her hair with careful fingers. I stay close, my hand on her shoulder, grounding her. "This okay?" Jax asks.
"Yeah," she whispers. "It's perfect."
When he rinses her hair, she leans back into his touch, and I see some of the tension leave her body.
I keep my eyes on her face while Jax guides her under the spray, my touch respectful, this is about care, not desire. I grab the soap and a washcloth, washing her arms, her back, her legs, nothing sexual, just care. Just showing her that she matters.
When we're done, we wrap her in a towel and help her dry off. She's quiet, but there's something softer in her expression now.
"Thank you," she says.
"Always," I say.
We move toward the bedroom to dress her, but she stops us. Her hand reaches out, gripping my wrist gently. When I turn back, she's looking between me and Jax, her eyes vulnerable and uncertain.
"Will you..." She hesitates, her voice barely above a whisper. "Will you stay? Tonight?"
The question hangs in the air between us. It's small, but it's everything. She's not just accepting our comfort, she's asking for it. She's choosing to let us stay.
Jax steps closer, his hand finding the small of her back. "Baby, we're not going anywhere."
"Not tonight," I say, my voice rough with emotion. "Not ever."
She nods, tears sliding down her cheeks, but they're not tears of fear. They're tears of relief. Of surrender. Of finally believing she doesn't have to do this alone.
We dress her slowly in a t-shirt and panties. Then we lead her back to bed. She climbs in between us, and we pull the blankets up around her.
Jax curls around her from behind, his arm draped over her waist. I face her, my hand resting on her hip.
"Better?" I ask.
She nods. "Yeah."
"Good," Jax murmurs against her hair. "That's all we want."
She reaches out and touches my face, her fingers tracing my jaw. "I don't know what I did to deserve you two."
"You exist," I say simply. "That's enough."
She smiles, small, but real, and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Get some sleep," Jax says. "We'll be right here."
She closes her eyes, and within minutes, her breathing evens out.
I look over her head at Jax, and he meets my gaze.
We don't need to say anything.
We both know.
Home isn't a place anymore. It's the woman sleeping between us. And we're never letting her wake up anywhere else.