Chapter 184
He always insists on doing the dishes like it’s his small way of keeping the world in order. I sit there, elbows on the counter, chin propped on my palm, watching him. When he’s done, he dries his hands on a towel, tosses it aside, and makes his way around the counter. His steps are almost soundless, and then his arms are around me, wrapping me in that familiar weight. He rests his chin on my shoulder, breath ghosting over my skin.
“You didn’t sleep,” he murmurs. His voice is soft but edged, like he’s been holding the thought too long. “Go back to bed. Get some rest.”
I tilt my head, catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. “And you?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll hold you.”
Something about the certain way he says it undoes something low in me. I turn toward him, lean back against his chest until I can feel his heartbeat under my spine. My hand finds his jaw, rough under my thumb, and when I look at him, his eyes have that look again...hungry and afraid all at once. So I kiss him.
It starts soft, but it doesn’t stay that way. He answers with that aching sound that vibrates against my mouth. We break apart to breathe, only to find each other again. His fingers thread through my hair, grip the back of my neck like he’s holding on to proof that I exist.
I hold him tight, like maybe if I pull him close enough, he’ll stop shaking on the inside.
When we finally part, our breaths still tangled, he doesn’t look away. His searching gaze holds mine. “You didn’t say anything,” he says after a long pause. “After the balcony. Should I be concerned?”
I blink, trying to steady the sudden weight behind his words. “Concerned how?”
He studies me like he’s trying to decode something written beneath my skin. “You were thinking about something,” he says quietly. “But you didn’t say it. What was it?”
His arms are locked around me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. And now I know why. He’s lived that before, the way Joe and Andrew vanished from his life in a single irreversible heartbeat. And now I’m here, and he’s so fucking terrified that I’ll be next.... another thing he couldn’t save.
But I can’t tell him what I was actually thinking. I can’t tell him that I’ve already decided to break through whatever walls he hides behind, even if he hates me for it. That I’ll drag every buried emotion into the light, kicking and screaming if I have to. That I’ll make him face himself, whether he wants to or not.
So instead, I remind him, “That day outside the store, I told you I don’t need anyone fighting my battles for me. You remember what you told me?”
He goes still, blinking slowly, his eyes darting between mine. Then he swallows and murmurs, “That they’re not your battles anymore.”
“Yeah.” I nod, voice low. “Same thing applies to you.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I can almost hear the thoughts moving behind his silence. His hands loosen around me, but just barely. Enough for me to breathe, not enough to leave.
We head back to bed after that, I set an alarm for three hours....just enough time for the kind of sleep that doesn’t go too deep, the kind that won’t leave me startled awake.
We move in sync, like muscle memory....the quiet kind that only comes from nights spent learning each other’s movements. It’s an unspoken rhythm we’ve fallen into.
Jax climbs in first, the sheets are cool. He doesn’t say anything, just lifts his arm....an unspoken invitation. I settle in beside him, shifting until I’m half on top of him, my head against his chest. His skin is warm, heartbeat steady beneath my ear. He wraps that arm around me, his palm coming to rest on my back, thumb tracing idle, almost unconscious circles. The silence stretches and it's comforting in its own way.
Then he speaks.
“You said you’re trying to build a life with me.”
His voice is almost casual, but there’s something in it. That small uneven note, the hint of fear he’s had to work through just to say the words.
I swallow, the sound loud in the hush of the room. The memory of those words, of how they’d slipped out of me yesterday while I was fraying at the edges and unravelling lands sharp in my chest. I tilt my head, find him watching me, eyes unreadable.
“Did I?” I ask softly, trying for teasing, but it comes out rougher than I meant.
“You did.”
There’s something about hearing him bring it up himself that tugs deep inside me. Jax never revisits things like that. He said that he’s not built for normal. Yesterday, he’d said that he couldn’t give me the picture-perfect life I probably wished for. The words still echo somewhere deep, like glass dust buried under flesh, invisible, but it still cuts when I move. So for him to bring this up, to actually look at me and say it aloud....
I rest my head back down against his chest, my voice quieter now. “I am,” I say. There’s nothing playful in my voice, just the quiet weight of something I mean down to the bone.
His hand stills for a moment, then moves again, thoughtful. It’s a long time before he speaks again. “You really think we’ll get there?”
I can tell he’s scared, the question careful on his tongue like he’s afraid of both voicing it out as well as the answer. There’s hesitation there, but under it....something fragile and flickering, like a light that refuses to die out no matter how many times the dark tries to swallow it.
It's hope.
It catches me off guard every time he lets it slip through, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. But I see it. And it’s enough to make me believe twice as hard for both of us. I breathe him in, the quiet strength beneath my hands, and it hits me....he deserves everything. Every good thing this world’s ever held from him. The kind of peace that doesn’t ask him to earn it. The kind of love that never flinches. Every sunrise, every soft thing, every reason to believe he’s allowed to have it all.
“Yeah,” I say, certain in a way that startles even me. “We will.”
The world feels so still, like it’s listening.
My hand rests over his heart, and something in me settles....this quiet, burning certainty that I’d give everything just to see him whole.
“I’ll get us there.”
I tilt my head, meet his eyes again, the tiniest smile curving my lips. “You know why?”
He’s quiet for a beat, eyes flicking between mine like he’s still testing the truth of it. Then, softer than breath, he says, “Because you love me.”
He says it like he’s still learning how to believe it.
“Exactly,” I murmur, and press a slow kiss to his chest before closing my eyes.