Chapter 26 #2
I threw my arm over my eyes, not bothering with a response.
A valid question.
I shouldn't have cared about that bastard or whatever he said about her. I shouldn't have cared that this was pretend for her, even though it stopped being pretend for me a long time ago. I shouldn't have cared that this fight probably blew my chances with her altogether.
Only problem was that I did care.
He nudged my foot with his.
“Seriously, Jax. This thing with Savannah, it’ll be done in a few days. After the wedding, it's all over, so what does it matter?”
My jaw tightened under my arm.
When I didn’t respond, Benji grew silent for a few minutes. I thought he would drop it, but no, that wasn’t who Benji Won was.
“Unless you have feelings for her.”
My teeth clenched slightly, refusing to voice the words, but the truth pressed uncomfortably against my chest. Because it was impossible not to have feelings for someone like her.
The gym fell quiet after that.
Just the hum of the lights overhead and the faint buzz of the vending machine.
My mind drifted, thinking about when she would look at me as if she was trying to figure me out.
Or when she would laugh and her eyes would light up, bringing a whole new meaning to the color brown.
Even when she was arguing with me, trouble had no problem speaking her mind, and I loved that about her.
Love.
Love.
Holy fucking shit.
“You got my car keys?”
I cleared my throat—and maybe the internal panic—and muttered, “Yeah, in my bag.”
My ears perked up at the sound of his footsteps crossing the gym. I heard when the zipper of my bag opened, then some rustling.
“You know you don't have to…” Benji trailed off for a few seconds. Then his voice got low, and I could hear the shock in his tone. “You’re drawing her?”
My entire body went still.
Shit.
I’d completely forgotten the sketchpad was open in there.
I kept my arm over my eyes, hoping maybe he’d drop it, but again, we were talking about Benji here. So instead of being a good best friend and dropping the subject—and putting the sketchpad back where he found it—I heard the unmistakable sound of paper flipping.
One page.
Another.
And another.
Then—
“Holy shit. You’re in love with her.”
The words landed heavy in the room.
My chest tightened, and I slowly moved my arm off my face and stared up at the ceiling.
My mind immediately replayed everything that had happened between Savannah and me.
Every kiss.
Every touch.
Every moment when she looked at me like she was both drawn to me and terrified of what that meant.
I thought she’d remind me of the worst parts of my past—the chaos, the anger, the darkness. Instead, she’d done the exact opposite.
Savannah was… light.
Something steady.
Something real.
Something that made me want a future I’d never cared about before.
I pushed myself up slowly from the floor, resting on my elbows. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
Across the gym, Benji stood with my sketchbook in his hands, his eyes wide as he flipped between the pages, and then looked back at me. He held up the sketchpad slightly.
“Don't lie to me, Cage. I’ve seen the way you draw,” he said slowly. “You don’t miss a single detail when it’s someone you love.”
His gaze dropped to the page again.
“You used to do the same thing with Lyra.”
I didn’t bother denying it.
Because he was right.
It had been years since I’d drawn her… or anyone like that. Before Savannah, my sketchbook had been nothing but tattoo concepts, random designs, ideas for clients.
Then she showed up, and my mind was her resting place. Suddenly, every time I sat down in front of a blank page and I moved my hand, she appeared on the page. It would be her eyes, her lips, her hair, her legs—her everything.
The first few times had shocked the hell out of me.
But now?
Now I looked forward to drawing aimlessly just to look down and see Savannah staring back up at me from the paper.
The hold this woman has on my soul should be studied.
Benji walked over and dropped down beside me against the base of the ring, the mat creaking under his weight.
I sat up fully, leaning my back against the side of the boxing ring and closing my eyes for a second.
I raised a leg and propped my elbow to my knee, and my muscles started to ache now that the adrenaline had worn off.
The quiet in the gym felt heavier after everything we’d just said.
Benji nudged my arm.
“Here.”
I opened my eyes as he handed the sketchbook back to me, and when I looked down at the page, my chest tightened.
Savannah.
It was a sketch from the Dirty Rabbit. The night I saw her out with Nerissa and convinced her to have a “practice date” and meet the guys; the night she’d finally relaxed long enough to laugh at something Ari had said.
In the drawing, she was turned slightly to the side, her head tipped back just a little as she laughed. Her hair falling over one shoulder, and even from my angle, I could see the way her eyes shone.
“She's beautiful. Makes me think—”
I shot him a look when he nodded toward the page. “Don’t make me hit you.”
He smirked.
I ran my thumb absently along the edge of the page.
She was beautiful that night, but it had nothing to do with the polished, composed way she always carried herself. No, this was that unguarded, unfiltered type of happiness.
One—of many, obviously—that had taken permanent residence in my brain.
Benji leaned his elbows on his knees.
“So, have you told her yet?”
“Told her what?”
“That you’re seeing hearts in your eyes and that you’re in love with her.”
A humorless laugh left my mouth. “Hell no.”
Benji glanced at me.
“This whole thing is pretend for her,” I elaborated, tapping the sketchbook lightly. “The contract. The fake relationship. The getting-revenge-on-her-ex. All of it.” I shrugged. “So it doesn’t really matter what I feel.”
Benji stayed quiet.
“No matter what, she's walking away after all this,” I continued, my voice quieter now.
“There’s nothing I can do or say that would change her mind. Tonight only made that clear—even when I'm right, I'm wrong.”
That part felt painfully obvious.
Benji tilted his head slightly. “Well, maybe it isn’t pretend for her anymore, either.”
I deadpanned at him.
He shrugged.
“I’m just saying,” he continued. “From every interaction I’ve seen between you two, it doesn’t look fake.”
I scoffed, running a hand through my hair.
“Maybe she’s just good at playing pretend.
Anything that's happened between us, I've been the one to make that move.
The only one she's made—the one time I thought she was interested—was the first kiss, and that was a move to piss off her ex.
All she does is run away from me. Trust me, it's fake on her end.”
Benji studied me for a moment before shaking his head slightly.
“Then you two need to talk. Not tonight,” he added when I let out a slow breath. “You’re both pissed off as it is.”
That was putting it mildly.
“Wait until things cool down. Hold out, let her come to you.
You keep saying you want her to make a move—well, now's the perfect time.
Once she reaches out tomorrow, then you can talk about what happened tonight and anything else that's stopping her from making this real.
But don't give up on it, Jaxon. You deserve to be happy, especially after Lyra.
I know she would've wanted that for you.”
The gym went quiet again as my mind worked.
Lyra would’ve kicked my ass for fighting, too; go figure.
Sighing, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes again.
I guessed the ball was in her court now.
When we talked tomorrow, I'd see where her head was, then maybe we could talk about the doomed L word.
“You know I would've won that last round if I wasn't distracted, right?”
Benji chuckled. “Confident words coming from a man who lost three rounds prior.”
“Three or two?”
“The hearts in your eyes might have clouded your vision, but I had no idea it would affect your counting skills, too. Tell me, how many fingers?”
I rolled my eyes when he held up three digits.
“Fuck you.”
He smirked as he got up. “Fuck you, too. Now, are we done here or do you want to go again?”
This time, I was the one smirking.