Jax
“No.” I walk past James, not giving a second thought to how much his face falls.
I am not going out tonight whether they like it or not. I’m too bloody tired, and honestly, I have zero interest in being surrounded by sweaty drunks who’ll only make me more nauseated than I already am.
“What else are you gonna do, mate?” James calls from behind me. “Watch paint dry?”
I stifle a laugh at how dramatic he’s being and nod. “Yep,” I say, maybe a little too proudly, then drop onto the sofa with a low grunt.
They can try to convince me all they want, but I’m not going. Especially not downstairs. The last thing I need is to sit there staring at the barstools where Allie and I used to meet, and have James and Desmond take turns giving me shit for being whipped.
Yeah, I’ll pass on that one.
James leans in, his eyes flicking from me to Gareth, then back again. “You sure you want to hang out with Grumpy over there?”
I tilt my head back and fix my eyes on the ceiling fan. “Once again… yep.”
Do I feel bad for not going? Or at least for being short with him? I mean, yeah, who wouldn’t? Saying no to James is like kicking a puppy. But I wasn’t joking when I said I’m worn out. And James doesn’t take no for an answer unless you say it about forty-two times.
They head for the door, James throwing me one last look over his shoulder.
“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “You know where to find us when you decide you want to have fun again.”
The second the door clicks shut, I lean forward, grab my beer off the table, and take a long pull. Then I spot Gareth out of the corner of my eye—in the exact same spot as the other night. Alone in the lounge. Staring out at the city lights.
Normally, it wouldn’t take me more than a second to go over and fuck with him. But after the way he reacted last time, and how distant he’s been all week? Yeah, whatever this is, he needs to let it out. And apparently, I’m the only one brave enough to deal with it. Lucky me.
I peel myself off the sofa and start toward him—slowly. So slowly it feels like I’m approaching a rabid dog instead of my best mate. The hairs on my arms prickle, and by the time I finally sink into the seat beside him, my heart’s pounding in my throat.
We sit in total silence. Whether he’s even registered that I’m here is anyone’s guess. His eyes stay fixed on the city, watching the flashing lights, listening to the faint movement of traffic below.
I let him have that for all of five seconds before leaning forward, elbows on my knees, and look straight at him. “Alright. What’s up, mate?”
He shrugs, eyes still glued to the window. “Nothin’.”
I snort, not buying his bullshit. “Yeah, real convincing. You’re really selling it with that frown.”
His eyes flick to mine. “Mate, shut up.”
I hold up a hand, gesturing towards him. “Well—”
“Well nothing, Jax,” he snaps. “You act like you know what the hell you’re talking about. Just fucking leave it alone.”
Right. Cool. On second thought, maybe I should’ve just gone out with Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
I sit there quietly, giving him space. Hoping maybe, just maybe, he’ll take a second to actually think about how he’s been handling whatever’s going on with him.
But knowing Gareth? He probably doesn’t see a bloody thing wrong with the way he’s acting, or how it’s dragging everyone else down with him.
Poor James wouldn’t even go get himself a bloody coffee this morning because Gareth was too busy slamming cabinets and muttering curses under his breath.
I glance at him again. “Nothing gets better by ignoring it, mate. You guys had to drag me out of my hole after everything with Emelia and Mum. The least I can do is hand you a shovel.”
He leans back in his chair with a long, slow sigh, dragging his hands down his face, keeping his eyes covered. “I saw her face, Jax.”
My brows knit. “What do—”
“My daughter’s face.”
My eyes widen. “Oh! Well, congrats, man,” I say, giving his knee a quick tap.
He shakes his head and meets my eyes. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this shit, mate. Especially not with a little girl. A boy? Sure. I was one—I think I could handle that. But a girl? I don’t know the first thing about them or being a dad.”
“I get it,” I say with a small smirk. “I felt the same before I met Charlotte and Lydia. Scared shitless for all the same reasons.”
His head snaps toward me. “Yeah, but they’re not yours, Jax.”
His tone isn’t cruel, just honest. And surprisingly, it doesn’t sting the way I thought it would. I always figured someone would say it eventually. It’s not like it’s a secret.
I shrug. “In every way that matters, they are. Doesn’t matter who created them. What matters is whether you love them enough. I might not be their dad by blood, but I still love them like they’re mine.”
He drops his head into his hands again, rubbing at his temples, going radio silent.
I give him a moment, then ask quietly, “Have you got a name picked out?”
His voice is muffled behind his hands. “Ginny.”
“That’s a nice name.”
Still, he doesn’t move. Just keeps his head buried in his hands.
I wish I understood. If it were me, I’d be screaming it from the balcony to anyone passing by.
The guys would be begging me to shut up.
I’d be annoying as hell with how good my mood would be.
But Gareth? He’s acting like this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.
He can’t even crack half a smile thinking about the little life coming in a few months. Just mentions it like it’s nothing.
I reach over and pat him on the shoulder, half-expecting him to pull away—or storm off into his room like last time—but to my surprise, he doesn’t. He lets me sit there with him.
And maybe that’s something. Maybe he just needs time.
But one thing I know for sure is that Gareth wouldn’t dream of abandoning his own child.
Not with how loyal he’s been to James and me through everything since primary school.
Through every fight, every setback, no matter how harsh things got between us.
Even if the entire world was telling him to run, he’d stay planted right where he is.
Because that’s the kind of guy Gareth is.