Jax
I slept like a baby last night.
For the first time in three months, I actually slept.
I guess that’s what happens when you get used to falling asleep next to someone.
A whole month of her beside me—my arm around her waist, our whispered conversations in the dark until one of us passed out, just feeling the heat radiating off each other.
Addicting doesn’t even begin to cover it.
But once her vacation ended, so did all of that. There were no more sleepovers. No more late-night confessions under a silk sheet.
We’ve had to tiptoe with everything going on, especially with the custody shit. And don’t get me wrong, I get it. I really do. But that doesn’t make the empty side of the bed any easier. The quiet from her side has been louder than anything I could’ve imagined.
But last night? Last night, she was back in my arms. Back in the city where we found each other. Right where she belongs.
“You think they’ll be much longer?” James asks from beside me, antsy as ever.
I offer him a tight-lipped smile but don’t bother answering. There’s no telling how long it’ll take those three to get ready for a night like tonight.
James turns to start complaining to Desmond, but I don’t hear a word he says over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. Honestly, I’m surprised my eardrums haven’t blown yet.
I start pacing in front of the elevator—back and forth, over and over—probably carving a nice little track into the hotel lobby carpet.
But I can’t get myself to stop. I’ve never done this before.
What am I even supposed to do? Stand there and smile?
Mingle? Pretend I’m even remotely interested in this side of business? Because I’m not. Not even a little bit.
I’m not the type who gets excited about dressing up, showing up to some big, fancy party in the city, pretending I belong there while sipping free overpriced cocktails.
Okay—fine. The free alcohol part? That I can handle.
But socializing? Fake small talk, the forced smiles while I pretend my throat isn’t tightening just thinking about the fact our record drops tomorrow?
God, that’s weird to say.
My brain’s in the process of turning to actual mush when I feel a slight tug on my elbow. I turn and see James standing there with the biggest grin I’ve seen tonight.
“You ready, mate?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
Before I can answer, the elevator dings—and I lose my breath.
I freeze.
Allie steps out, and for a second, it’s like the whole world stops spinning. Like the universe itself is holding its breath, saving this one perfect moment so everyone can truly take in how beautiful she is.
And the best part? She’s all mine.
The long black dress hugs every curve, and the way it moves with her makes my mouth go dry. I’m already thinking about skipping the whole event—just tossing her over my shoulder and disappearing upstairs until she’s screamed my name so many times she forgets her own.
There’s even a slit up the side, showing just enough leg to make my knees forget how to function.
Her auburn curls fall in soft waves around her face, framing the smile I haven’t stopped thinking about since the moment her bloody trolley crashed into my ankle.
My brain short-circuits as she walks toward me, clutching her purse like it’s the only thing tethering her to the earth. She stops in front of me and offers a shy smile.
I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips. My eyes find hers as I press a soft kiss to her knuckles, breathing in the scent of her perfume—the same one that always manages to silence every anxious thought.
She snickers. “Such a gentleman.”
“Not for long,” I murmur with a wink, kissing her hand again before finally letting go.
Her cheeks flush, and I catch the flicker in her eyes, like she’s replaying every word I just said.
I half think about repeating it, just to watch her pupils dilate even more—until a low whistle from none other than Desmond cuts through the silence. He strides up and stops beside Allie just as I look over.
“Damn. I think I’m into MILFs now,” he says, sticking out a hand.
My cheeks instantly burn, but before the apology can spew past my lips, Allie just laughs and takes it.
“I’ll be sure to rally up my mom friends,” she says through a chuckle, her eyes flicking back to mine.
Desmond groans, drops her hand, and claps me hard on the back. “This one’s definitely a keeper.”
My fingers immediately find the bridge of my nose while I bite back a smile. But damned if he isn’t right.
Allie’s hand slips easily into mine. “You ready, love?” I ask, giving it a squeeze.
She smiles, leaning just slightly into me. “Only if you are,” she murmurs, then winks. “Rock star.”
It’s honestly a miracle I’m still standing. The wink. That dress. The way rock star rolled off her tongue.
Before I can stop myself, I pull her in and press my lips to hers.
We ignore the oohs and ahhs erupting from our so-called friends.
All I can focus on is how soft her lips are, and how much I’ve truly missed this.
Sure, we sneak in kisses when we can, but with the girls always around and me not staying over, that’s about as far as it goes.
So yeah, they’ll have to forgive me for giving in to my impulses.
“All right, lovebirds, take it down a notch,” Don booms, clapping me on the back before dragging me off Allie. “You don’t want to be late to your own party.”
I beg to differ.
The walk to the car takes a solid ten minutes. The drive to the hotel, maybe thirty. But it only takes three seconds for my heart to lodge in my throat the second I look out the window and see just how many people showed up.
And just when I thought I was finally starting to feel okay about everything—maybe even a little confident—it all shatters like glass. Splintering. Crashing. Falling apart at my feet.
Fight or flight kicks in, and every cell in my body screams run as my chest tightens and quickly starts to heave.
My palms sweat, and my eyes dart frantically over the front of the hotel—cameras flashing, people clapping, even a bloody mini red carpet stretches out along the entrance—and it’s fucking packed.
Why the hell is it so packed?
“Holy shit,” James breathes.
Gareth doesn’t take his eyes off the entrance. “Tell me about it.”
Why the fuck is it that every time Don’s in charge of the guest list, he acts like estimating numbers is a foreign concept? First the meet-and-greet. Then the show. And now the bloody release party.
And this is a hell of a lot more than the thirty people he swore by.
My head snaps toward him, and sure enough, he’s wearing that shit-eating grin. The first I’ve ever seen on the man—and I absolutely want to wipe it off. It’d be one thing if there were this many people for a show. But these people? They’re here to mingle. To chat. To talk about our record.
And I’m not a talker.
James flings his door open, and the cheering hits so loud I can barely hear anything else. He grabs Desmond and Ana and drags them both out, but all I can focus on is the roar crashing over me as they slowly make their way inside.
Why are they moving so slow? Because James thinks he has to greet every single person he walks by, just so no one feels left out.
He’s that guy. I wish I could say I’m also that guy, but I’ve always been the one looking for the exit.
And tonight’s no different. If anything, that instinct is louder than ever.
Nora and Gareth move next.
And I’m just… frozen. Stuck in my seat like there are cinderblocks tied to my feet with so many questions slamming into my head I just want to go home.
I’m not cut out for this. I know I’m not.
It was stupid to think I could just shove everything aside.
I’m just the poor kid who grew up in Cardiff and got booed off stage in bloody pubs.
What the hell gave me the right to think I could make something of myself somewhere else? In America, of all places.
Maybe Dad was right…
Then I feel a hand rest on my knee, and my shoulders relax at least a fraction.
“Look at me,” Allie says softly.
It’s hard as hell, but I do as I’m told, ripping my gaze away from the crowd and into her eyes—the one place that knows how to make all the screaming in my brain seem more like background noise.
“You deserve this, Jax. All those people? They’re here to support you today.” She reaches up and cups my cheek, making sure my eyes stay on hers. “And I can’t think of anyone more deserving.”
Her words hit me right in the chest. I can’t say whether I fully agree, because part of me still wants to take her hand and run. But the urge isn’t as strong anymore—not as loud. I know I have this with her by my side.
Leaning in, I press my lips to hers softly. “I love you,” I murmur.
She smiles warmly. “I love you, too. Now get out there. Your fans are waiting for you.”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I force one foot out, planting it on solid pavement. The second I stand, the clapping grows louder, the flashes brighter.
I quickly turn, offer Allie my hand, and help ease her out of the car.
She gives me a look—the one that always manages to ground me—and I finally take a deep breath.
Well. It’s all or nothing.