Chapter 49 Collision
Collision
It’s been nearly a year since Jaxon clawed his way out of the mess. The bottles, the nights he couldn’t remember, the people he pushed away—long gone. He’s found his footing again. Focused. Centered. Steady.
Work has been great. Life, too. He’s rebuilt everything, piece by piece, and hasn’t looked back.
On this particular morning, nothing seems out of the ordinary. The office is quiet—slow, like most early weekdays. Jaxon sips his coffee while chatting with his receptionist, the easy banter filling the front lobby. A few phone calls come in. Then a walk-in or two. Just another day.
Until it isn’t.
Just after lunch, a man steps through the door—tall, broad, and fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket. He walks straight to the front desk and asks to speak with the branch manager.
“That would be me,” Jaxon says, offering a firm handshake. “Come on back.”
He leads the man into his office, closing the door behind them. The conversation begins like any other intake meeting. Jaxon runs through his usual questions, calm and professional. “What brings you in today? What services do you currently use? Anyone assisting you with finances?”
But something’s... off.
The man isn’t interested in answering. He’s short. Evasive. His agitation growing with each word Jaxon speaks.
Finally, Jaxon asks what he always does when things start to veer off course. “What exactly are you looking for—and how do you think I can help?”
That’s when it happens.
Without warning, the man lunges across the desk—hands out, face twisted in fury. The office erupts into chaos. Jaxon’s chair scrapes against the floor as he catches the man’s arms, wrestles control, and forces him back toward the entrance.
Down the hall, the receptionist hears the commotion—slamming, yelling, muffled cursing—and sprints to the phone, dialing 911 as fast as her fingers can move.
Back at the front, Jaxon shoves the man toward the door, holding him in a restraint until he lets go. But the second Jaxon releases him, the man turns and throws a punch—landing hard under Jaxon’s left eye.
Blood rushes to Jaxon’s ears. But not rage. Just instinct.
Right hook. Left. Another hard right. The man crumples like a ragdoll.
Jaxon doesn’t revel in it. Doesn’t gloat. He grabs the guy by the arms, lifts him to a chair, and plants him there like a teacher setting a child in timeout.
That’s where he stays until the cops arrive.
The officers speak to the receptionist first, then walk over to the man in the lobby—his lip split, eye swelling fast, pride in pieces. When they make their way into Jaxon’s office, they already have a few questions of their own.
“We figured something was off when we saw the address,” one of the officers says.
“What’s the story?” Jaxon asks.
“His name’s Travis. From Georgia, according to his ID. Said he came here to confront you.”
“Mind if I talk to him for a minute?”
“You sure? We can stick around.”
“I’m sure. Outside’s fine.”
Jaxon walks down the hall and sits a few seats away from the man—Travis. They talk for a while. The conversation starts tense, but Jaxon listens. Really listens. And somewhere in the middle of all that pain and misdirected anger, the truth surfaces.
Claire.
Turns out, Travis and Claire dated all through college. Maybe even longer. And now, apparently, they’re going through something—something that triggered the same patterns that pushed her away once before.
Travis believed Jaxon had something to do with it. Believed he’d interfered. Believed he was the reason for the distance, the silence, the way Claire was starting to unravel.
He came here chasing answers. Instead, he got a front-row seat to a man who wasn’t there to steal anything—but simply to move on.
Eventually, Jaxon stands and extends his hand. Travis takes it.
No grudges. No police report. Just two men who loved the same woman at different times, in different ways, for different reasons.
As Jaxon steps back inside, he locks the door behind him and turns to his receptionist.
“We’re closing early today,” he says with a tired smile.
“You sure?” she asks. “I mean... Jaxon, are you okay?”
He shrugs. “Remind me not to piss you off,” she jokes.
“Yeah, well... long story short, that guy was Claire’s ex. From back in her college days. Apparently, she’s been acting the same way toward him as she did before she came here. He thought I had something to do with it. Thought I still did.”
“And you let him walk away?” she asks, surprised.
“I did. He was just a guy looking for answers. A guy still in love. Honestly... I feel bad for him.”
“You’re a better man than most, Jaxon. Anyone else would’ve made sure he spent the night in a holding cell.”
Jaxon just nods.
Because what’s the point in punishing someone else for your own pain?
He knows heartbreak better than most. And now, he knows redemption too.
“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys on the desk. “Let’s get out of here.”
And with that, he steps out into the fading light of a day that started like any other.
Only now—he’s carrying even less of the past with him.