1. Marley #2
I shudder at his deep voice and stand to stare over at Jax.
It takes everything in me not to take my braid of black hair and twirl it between my fingers to calm my nerves.
You’d think after working together for as long as we have, I’d get used to his presence by now.
But no matter how much time, my body can’t seem to forget how he used to hold me, press kisses down my spine, how his cock?—
I clear my throat, trying to stop that line of thought. “You see who did it?”
He shakes his head. His black hair curls over his forehead, and the tattoos lining up his arms flex under the tight black T-shirt as he crosses them over his chest. He looks good.
He always looks good, but he looks bulkier, more badass than when we were together.
“If I had to guess, I’d assume the same person going home drenched in club soda. ”
I sigh. “The downfall of a small town. No hiding whose car is whose.”
“I’m sure the giant ‘fuck off’ in flowers sticker on your bumper isn’t one for subtlety either,” he teases, his mouth curling up in one corner.
I stifle my own smile and shrug.
His tongue peeks between his lips, and he nods to his truck. “Need a ride home? Or you want me to call you a tow?”
It’s hard to withhold a grimace. “Todd told me last time he’ll charge me double if he has to come out because I pissed someone off again.”
Jax’s eyebrows raise. “Sounds like bad business practices.”
“Not when his dad constantly tries to clear my towing debt.”
“Oh, now we’re in towing debt?” Jax says, his eyebrows deepening to a v. “Marley, are you hurting for money?”
The simple question turns my stomach. “No.” The retort comes out a little too quickly, making it seem like a lie. “No, I’m not. I’m fine.”
Jax sighs, shaking his head as if he doesn’t believe me. He runs his hand through his hair. “Get in my truck. I’ll take you home, then grab a tire from my pop’s shop in the morning.”
“Jax—”
“Just get in the truck, Marley. Stop arguing for once.” The slight growl in his voice has me stomping away and wrenching open the passenger door of his truck before he can open it for me.
I’m not one to give in, but the two of us are horns on the same bull, stuck in this small town and completely asymmetrical.
I’m too exhausted to go head to head with Jax tonight.
He hops into the driver’s seat and pulls out of Sweet Whiskey’s lot before heading toward my apartment.
“Not going to ask for directions?” I quip.
He laughs. “Don’t insult me.”
I cross my arms over my chest, a small barrier of protection from the overwhelming presence of him in this truck cab.
I can smell him. His scent is everywhere, and it batters at the cage of memories I try to keep locked away.
It doesn’t surprise me that he knows where I live.
It’s a small town after all. But it’s more than that; it’s the way we’ve always orbited around each other.
It’s the same reason I know where his apartment is, and I shouldn’t.
I shouldn’t care if he’s ever taken anyone back there, which to my knowledge, he hasn’t.
We broke up, or more accurately, I broke up with him.
I shouldn’t care, and I should have demanded Tracy not hire him the day he applied to be a bouncer.
Instead, I kept quiet, selfishly enjoying how close he was after nearly two years of not seeing him at all.
I had missed him more than I thought possible when he disappeared to the city.
A part of me hated him for it, but that’s not fair, given I was the one who let him go.
So when he returned and ran straight to work at the same place I do, my old and abused heart leapt with joy.
Jax could have easily gotten a job at his parent’s garage, and yet he stands at the entrance of the dive bar every night I’m working.
This is the first time he’s had to drive me home, and the quiet is suffocating when it’s usually tolerable.
I can’t explain why it feels different, as if I’m waiting for the tension between us to snap.
Maybe we’re just as affected by two happy omegas in our orbit, but I’d hate for that to be true.
Maybe I’m just so done keeping my shield up that he’s creeping past my defenses too easily.
All I know is that as much as I’d love to fall back into Jax, I can’t.
I barely survived losing him last time. I wouldn’t survive a second.
My hand curls around the handle of the truck door as he pulls up to my apartment, planning to jump as soon as he slows. The lock engages right as I try to yank on it, and my shoulder runs into the glass.
“Jax!” I snap my head toward him with a glare.
He’s smiling, his arm thrown over the bench seat. “Not even a thank you?”
I work my jaw back and forth once. “Thank you.” It’s a curt, gritted response.
“I’ll have your car back in the morning.”
I blow out a small breath and give him a more genuine one this time. “Thank you.”
He presses the unlock button, and I open the door to jump out his truck.
“Marley.”
I look back ?at him with a raised eyebrow.
“I like your new jeans. They make your ass look real tight. Reminds me when I used to?—”
I slam his door shut on the rest of his words as my cheeks heat, and I stomp toward my apartment.
I hate being reminded of what we once were, and I especially hate that he even noticed that I had new jeans on.
My attitude doesn’t lessen when I wake the next morning because I hate that my car is exactly where he promised it would be with a brand new tire.
Maybe the worst of it is, I hate that there’s no one else in the world like him.