Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
JAXON/JAX
Now
Clean Suits & The Blood Hidden In Them
Some choices don’t leave room for who you used to be.
My trainer has me in an armbar, and I tap out. “Dammit! I thought I had that one.”
Zeb releases the hold and sits back on his heels, not a bead of sweat on him. Twenty-four years of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu training, and for the last eight of those, he has never made me tap in under thirty seconds. Until now.
“Again.” I push to my feet and reset my stance.
He doesn’t move. “No.”
“Zeb.” I widen my base, signaling I’m ready. “Let’s roll.”
“Sit down.” He stands instead. “You’ve been on this mat for forty minutes, and you’ve been somewhere else for thirty-eight of them. I’m not putting you back in a position until you’re actually present.”
I crack my neck. The tension at the base of my skull hasn’t shifted since yesterday morning. “I’m here.”
“You left two openings in the last round that a blue belt would’ve taken without thinking.” He tightens the belt of his gi. “You gave me that armbar, Jaxon. You practically laid your arm across my chest and waited.”
“I was testing your reaction time.”
“You were staring at the floor.” He plants his feet and settles his weight. “Tell me what’s going on, or we’re done for today. I don’t waste mat time.”
I march to the edge of the area, pick up my water bottle, and drink from it. The cold does nothing for the pressure building in my head.
“Zeb, I came here to train.”
“Then train.” He gestures to me with an open hand. “But I’ve been in this sport for years, and whatever’s sitting behind your eyes right now is going to get someone hurt. Probably you.”
“My mind is here.”
“Good. BJJ doesn’t forgive distraction. You told me that word for word the first month we trained together.”
“I remember what I said.”
“Then you know I’m right.” He strides to the far side of the room, picks up an energy drink, and gulps it down without breaking my gaze.
For years, we’ve been doing this. He took me from purple belt to black, and somewhere along the way, he picked up the one skill I never intended to teach him: reading me.
He juts his chin out. “How long has it been since you slept well?”
“I sleep fine.”
“That’s not what I asked, Jaxon.”
I don’t answer that.
He presses on. “Business or personal?”
“Personal.”
Zeb sets his bottle down and goes quiet. Eight years is long enough to understand that personal marks the line of the conversation and anything past it requires an invitation I haven’t extended.
“You want to tell me what she did?” He crosses back toward me.
A hard and tense knot forms in my jaw. “No one did anything.”
He takes one step toward me. “I’ve seen you train through dislocated ribs. I’ve watched you on this mat two days after a deal fell apart that cost you seven figures. You don’t tap out like that. Not in thirty seconds.”
“I’m having an off day.” I wipe my brow with a towel.
He tilts his chin at the space between us. “Whoever she is, she’s got you tied up in something a lot harder to get out of than an armbar.”
“One more round.” I trek to the center of the mat. “No more conversation.”
We face each other. He settles into his stance across from me.
His chin dips once. “Are you in love with her?”
“You could say that.” I tug my gi down and tighten my belt. “And it doesn’t change a thing.”
“It changes everything.” Zeb stays loose, arms at his sides. “It always does.”
“Not for me.”
“That’s a lie you’ve practiced long enough to believe. What’s the real problem?”
“Loving someone and being good for them aren’t always the same thing.” The armbar bruise has settled into my shoulder now, already mapping itself into tomorrow’s soreness. “Sometimes you have to choose one and sacrifice the other. And living with that choice is the part no one prepares you for.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there’s something I have to handle.” I plant my feet, preparing to roll.
“What happened?”
“Someone put their hands on something that belongs to me. On someone.” I correct myself, because she is not a possession, but the instinct runs bone-deep and honest. “And I can’t walk away from that and still be someone who deserves her.”
“So you think you’re someone who doesn’t deserve her.”
“Exactly.” I crouch in position. “That’s the problem.”
The air conditioning cycles on overhead. Zeb goes quiet. The hum fills the room, and I let it stretch.
He gets into a squat, preparing for our match. “Justice or revenge?”
That question cuts through the room cleaner than anything we’ve managed this morning.
“Both.” I consider it for a second. “Maybe something more. I don’t have a clean word for it.”
“There never is one. In jiu-jitsu, there’s a version of this. You’re in a critical position with no clean submission available, so you do something ugly. You sacrifice your arm, you eat a choke to turn the board. You come out of it damaged, but the alternative is losing everything.”
“And what if it costs you the thing you were fighting for in the first place?”
“Then you better be sure it’s the only move.” He stands, shifting from side to side. “Because you can’t undo a joint break. And some people don’t forgive even the thought of it.”
“I know that.” I rub the side of my neck. “That’s why I’m going in with both eyes open.”
“Open isn’t the same as ready.” He doesn’t get back into his stance yet. Men have gone into conflicts convinced of their preparedness, yet left deeply wounded by experiences beyond the physical fight.
“Yeah?”
He nods once. “What you’re describing, the part where you might not recognize yourself on the other side, is the actual damage. And it doesn’t show up on an X-ray.”
With that, we roll while I try to work out the overwhelming knot of worry and physical tension I have everywhere in my body. I’ve never killed before, but I know what I must do.
I stride into the CVI conference room. “Natalie, Andrew, what can I do for you today?”
Natalie is to my left, legal pad open and untouched. Andrew is across, jacket folded over the back of his chair, sleeves already rolled.
Neither of them speaks first.
“Say why you called me into this mandatory meeting.” I drop into my chair at the head of the table. “Or I can go attend to other matters.”
“I’ll go.” Andrew rests his forearms flat on the surface. “We wanted to talk to you about Livianna.”
“What about her?” I rest back, crossing my legs.
Andrew’s throat works as if he’s swallowing a frog. “She’s engaged, Jaxon.”
My heart hurts with his declaration, but I dismiss it. “I know what she is.”
“Then you understand why we’re sitting here.” He doesn’t soften it, and I don’t want him to.
Andrew has worked alongside me for years. He knows what softening costs.
“Let me guess.” I gesture between them. “You two think I should step back.”
“We think you should protect yourself.” Natalie’s pen turns between her fingers. “Livianna’s rebuilding her life, and you’re standing in the middle of it. She doesn’t remember what you two had. It’s killing… You’re not yourself anymore.”
I lean forward, a seriousness clear in my eyes. “She needs me to help her while she deals with her amnesia.”
“She knows you as her mentor and her father’s friend.” Andrew sits up straighter. “That’s all, Jaxon. You’re spending time with her, and every time you do, you come back a little smaller.”
The city spreads wide beyond the glass, and I let my gaze settle there. “Smaller?”
“Yes.” Andrew absentmindedly moves his phone over an inch.
“There’s more, Jaxon. We’re just asking you to be aware of what you’re asking of yourself.” Natalie closes her planner. “Staying in her life while she plans a future with someone else isn’t sustainable. Not for a man who feels the way you do.”
“You don’t know what I feel.” I face them with a hole bleeding in my chest.
“Jaxon.” She pushes her belongings aside. “We know how you feel.”
The quiet rushes back in, and I let it run until Andrew fills it.
“There are other ways to ensure she’s protected. Other ways to stay connected to her world without putting yourself through this.” He angles forward. “You have resources. Use them. You don’t have to be the one standing in the room.”
“If I’m not in the room, I don’t know she’s safe.” Heat climbs through my veins. “Not the way I need to know it. She needs me.”
“That’s not a business decision.” He glances at Natalie and then back at me. “That’s personal.”
My heart rate accelerates. “Yes, it is.”
Andrew leans back, and Natalie sets her pen flat on the table. They stare at me as if we’re in a standoff. Maybe we are, but I’m not backing away.
“I can’t leave her life.” I square my shoulders. “Even if it costs me. Even if what I get is a friend and nothing else, I’ll take it. Because the alternative is not knowing if she’s okay, and I am not built for that.”
Neither of them argues. The door flies open and Quinn steps in.
“Why am I not in this meeting?” Quinn scans the room and lands on the empty seat beside Natalie.
Her eyes narrow in on Quinn. “What are you?—”
“Is there an agenda for this?” Quinn pulls out a chair and drops into it.
“Resource allocation.” Andrew turns toward Quinn. “Nothing that requires your department.”
“For forty-five minutes on a Tuesday morning with the three of you behind a closed door.” She crosses her arms. “Try again.”
“Quinn.” Natalie shifts in her chair.
“I saw the block for a Leadership meeting on the calendar.” Quinn sets her bag on the table. “What’s going on?”
I give her the version of my face I reserve for boardrooms: calm and in control. “We were discussing Livianna’s mentorship.”
Quinn goes still. “What about it?”
“We’re doing transition planning.” Andrew cuts in before I can. “We were about to release her into the wild since she was doing so well, but now we’re not sure that’s appropriate.”
“That’s a conversation for Jaxon and Livianna.” Quinn furrows her brow. “Not the four of us.”
“I wanted their input.” I rest my forearms on the table. “There’s no way I’ll let her business fail while she recovers. She needs me and my resources.”