Chapter 7 Jax
Chapter Seven: Jax
I flag down the waitress before Tigerlily can protest. She comes over with that same bright smile, pen ready.
“The Churro French Toast,” I say.
“Oh, I really don’t—” Tigerlily starts.
“You pointed at it,” I remind her.
The waitress writes it down and walks away, and Tigerlily looks down at her hands. Cheeks pink. Embarrassed.
Callum launches back into his story about the game, something about the ref being blind and Theo getting away with a high stick, and I let him talk. But I’m not really listening.
I’m watching her.
The way she keeps glancing around the restaurant like she’s waiting for someone to walk over and tell her she doesn’t belong here. The way she won’t meet our eyes for more than a second before looking away. The way her shoulders are pulled in, making herself smaller.
She blushes every time Callum says something remotely flirty. Every time Zephyr looks at her. Every time I speak.
This girl doesn’t get male attention. Or if she does, she’s not used to it being this direct. This focused.
And the way she keeps checking the room, scanning faces, reading body language—that’s not shyness. It’s survival. That’s someone who’s learned to track every threat, every shift in mood, every possible danger before it becomes a problem.
Her piece of shit dad.
My jaw clenches. I have to consciously relax it.
The waitress brings the Churro French Toast, and it’s massive. Three thick slices of bread rolled in cinnamon sugar, covered in whipped cream and caramel drizzle, dusted with powdered sugar. It looks ridiculous and amazing.
Callum immediately reaches over and swipes a finger through the whipped cream, grinning as he licks it off.
Tigerlily watches him, then looks at me. Those curious eyes uncertain.
“Eat with me?” she asks quietly.
Then she looks at Zephyr.
“Please?”
Both of us. She’s inviting both of us to share her dessert.
I lean back slightly, studying her. This girl who can barely hold eye contact is asking us to eat with her, making sure no one feels left out.
That’s not what I expected.
I thought I’d be the one leading this. The one setting the pace. The one deciding how close we get, how fast we move.
But she just flipped the dynamic without even realizing it.
I grab a fork and cut a piece of the French toast, making sure to get some of the whipped cream and caramel. Then I hold it up.
“Do the honors.”
She looks at the fork. Then at me. Her breath catches, just slightly, and I see the exact moment she realizes what I’m doing.
Testing her.
Seeing how far she’ll let this go. How much she’ll trust me.
She knows it too. I can see it in the way her eyes widen, the way her lips part. She’s not stupid. She’s playing passive, playing shy, but underneath that soft exterior, there’s someone sharp. Someone who’s learned to read people as well as I have.
No one with a father like hers should be this timid. This quiet.
It pisses me off, makes me want to find her dad and break every finger in his fucking hand. And I wouldn’t stop there. I’d punch his face a few solid ones and slam him on the ground, make him beg for his fucking life.
But I have to wait for that moment.
I’m deep in thought when she leans forward and opens her mouth for me.
I slide the fork between her lips, watching as she closes them around it, her tongue sweeping the French toast off the tines. Her eyes flutter shut for a second as she chews, and then they light up.
Actually light up. Like she just tasted something incredible for the first time.
She takes the fork from my hand and cuts another piece. She takes a bite and hums softly.
“So good,” she murmurs, rolling her eyes.
I can’t look away.
None of us can.
Callum’s stopped talking. Zephyr’s watching her with that intense focus he gets when something catches his attention. And I’m just sitting here, watching this girl eat French toast like it’s a religious experience.
She takes another bite. Hums again. Louder this time.
That sound goes straight to my dick.
She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Doesn’t realize that every soft hum, every little smile, every time she licks whipped cream off her lip is driving us insane.
“What?” she asks, looking up, and catching us staring.
Callum laughs. He can’t help himself. The guy’s an open book.
Zephyr shakes his head, that small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I just keep staring at her.
Does she know she’s humming? Does she know what that sound does to a man?
“Does this girl never get out?” Callum jokes, looking at me, but I ignore him. He scratches his face, trying to hide how turned on he is. I can see it written all over his fucking face.
She coughs, covers her mouth with her hand, and her eyes water slightly.
I reach over without thinking and rub her back. Small circles between her shoulder blades.
She looks at me, and up close, I can see the depths of her glistening eyes. They hold a lot… secrets, pain, innocence. That’s not what I expected.
“I’m okay,” she whispers.
I nod but keep my hand there and let my palm rest against her back, my thumb rubbing slow circles over her sweater.
I feel the way her shoulders tense. The way her spine goes rigid under my touch.
She doesn’t like being touched.
I remove my hand immediately and glance at Zephyr. He caught it too. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes narrow slightly.
My teeth ache from how hard I’m grinding them.
Shit.
I signal for the check. The waitress brings it over, still smiling, and I hand her my card without looking at the total.
“Thank you,” Tigerlily says softly when the waitress walks away.
That voice. That gentle, genuine voice.
It does something to me.
I want to protect that. Protect her innocence. The part of her that still says thank you and means it. The part that hasn’t been completely destroyed by her father’s abuse.
I’ll protect it at all costs.
“You’re welcome, Tigerlily,” I say.
Her eyes flutter for a second before she returns to her dessert. She takes a few more bites and then announces she’s done.
We leave the restaurant and head to the car. The morning sun is higher now, warming the air, and Tigerlily tilts her face toward it for just a second like she’s soaking it in.
“You want to go home, Cal?” I ask as we get in the car.
Callum’s in the backseat next to Tigerlily again, sprawled out.
“Depends,” he says. “You kicking me out?”
“Just asking.”
Tigerlily looks at Callum, then at me in the rearview mirror.
Callum catches her looking and grins. “Tiger, what do you think?”
“About what?” she asks, eyeing him.
“Do you want me gone? Say the word, and I’ll go home. But if you want me to stay...” He lets the sentence hang.
“Don’t be weird, Cal,” Zephyr mutters from the passenger seat.
Tigerlily looks at me in the mirror. She holds my gaze for a beat longer than usual. Is she scared about my reaction if she says yes to him? Is she worried I’ll judge for liking Callum’s attention? Callum can get any girl he wants, but I know he’s still hung up on Sienna.
“I don’t mind,” Tigerlily says quietly.
Callum throws an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. “Knew it.”
She blushes under his arm, and I have to focus on the road before I say something I’ll regret.
The drive back is quiet. Callum’s talking every now and then, but it’s background noise now. Tigerlily responds occasionally, soft one-word answers, but mostly she’s just looking out the window.
When we pull into the driveway, she’s the first one out of the car. We watch her walk off and then follow behind her.
Inside, she’s standing in the middle of the room like she doesn’t know what to do next.
I walk over slowly. Not too close. I don’t want to spook her.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” But her voice is tight and strained. She doesn’t look okay.
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
“I know.”
“Do you want to go home?”
She looks up at me. Those pretty eyes wide and vulnerable.
“No.”
One word. But it says everything.
“Then you stay as long as you need.”
She nods again and swallows hard. “Thank you.”
Zephyr heads to the kitchen. Callum flops on the couch, already scrolling his phone.
I gesture toward the hallway. “That room is all yours. Callum isn’t allowed to come over drunk anymore. Bathroom is across the hall. You need anything, it’s yours.”
She walks down the hall, and I watch her go. I watch the way she moves like she’s trying not to take up space, like she’s apologizing for existing.
It makes me want to hit something.
Zephyr comes back from the kitchen with a water bottle and hands it to me.
“She’s terrified,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
“You see the way she tensed when you touched her?”
“Yeah.”
He’s quiet for a second. “We can’t push her.”
“I’m not planning to.”
“Callum might.”
I glance at the couch where Callum’s sprawled out, oblivious to the tension.
“I’ll handle Callum.”
Zephyr nods and takes a sip of his water. “What’s the plan?”
“Make her feel safe. Give her space.”
“And her dad?”
My jaw clenches again. “If he shows up, I’ll deal with it.”
“You mean we’ll deal with it.”
I look at him. Zephyr’s eyes are hard and determined. He’s always had my back, and it’s obvious he feels protective of Tigerlily.
“Yeah,” I say. “We’ll deal with it.”
I realize that’s all she needs. She needs time. Time to process everything that’s happened. Time to feel safe enough to breathe without looking over her shoulder.
She needs space, but not too much space. She needs to know we’re here, that we’re not going anywhere, but that we’re not going to crowd her either.
She needs a safe haven.
And I’m going to make sure she has one.
Even if it kills me to sit here and watch her fold in on herself, knowing I can’t fix it with a touch or a word or anything except time and patience.
So I let her be.
Because that’s what she needs right now.