Page 52

And it's not that I'd forgotten I was sitting there with Sergio, but the gentle touch of his thumb on my ankle bone still takes me by surprise somehow.

His voice shocks me even more. "He's really not as much of an asshole as he pretends to be, you know."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"Jax. He's a good guy, under all the bullshit."

"So he keeps trying to tell me." Bitterness colors my tone.

It's not just Jax, either. Cayden's been assuring me since we were teenagers that Jax really isn't so bad, once you get to know him. I've always wondered how the two of them could be such good friends. It only makes sense that there's more to Jax than I ever realized. I just don't know how to accept it, is all.

"Look, I know you two have history…"

I laugh. "That's an understatement. He was such a bully. You don't even know."

"I don't," he concedes. "I just know he pulled me out of a building that was on fire." He turns, showing the scarred side of his face more clearly. "I was lucky to get out with just these—if he hadn't been there, I wouldn't have been so lucky."

I swallow hard. "Oh."

"He didn't have to do it, either. Nearly got killed himself."

Well, now I feel like the asshole.

It's easy to remember that Sergio is a war hero, but all these guys are ex-military. They've all done things and seen things. They've sacrificed huge parts of their lives.

Sergio leans in closer. "And just between you and me?"

"Yeah?" This isn't a sexy move, but with our heads bent so close together, the warm scent of him washes over me. A trill of excitement hums up my spine.

"Cayden wasn't the only one looking in on your grandmother."

I startle, rearing back. I glance down the hallway in the direction Jax disappeared in a huff. "He—?"

But he didn't even know my grandma. He sure wouldn't have felt any obligation to her—not the way I can easily accept that Cayden would have.

"You should ask him about it. But yeah. All the time."

With that, Sergio gives my ankle another squeeze. Then he bends his head back to his reading.

Conversation closed, apparently.

I don't mind his sudden silence. The fact that he spoke up at all, given how reserved he is, speaks volumes. I want to know more, but his advice isn't lost on me.

If I want to get to the bottom of who Jax really is—and who he is to me—I need to talk to him.

And I need to do it soon, before this whole new life opening up in front of me slips away.

24

Except I don't talk to Jax. Not that night and not the next day or the next. I'm pretty sure he's avoiding me, but between the work I'm doing at my grandmother's house and the hours I'm putting in, helping Deandre finish up that order of his, I'm not around that much to avoid anyway.

I've settled into a groove, and I'm reluctant to upset it. A few days ago, Deandre and I had another mind-blowing session in his workshop that carried over into his bed. I slept in his arms, kissing my new daddy softly before drifting off—only to wake and let Adam take me on the countertop while a breakfast casserole finished baking in the oven. Sergio and I have spent a couple more late nights reading in quietly charged companionship, and Cayden's been warm and loving through it all, looking honestly pleased to see me bouncing between his best friends.

Except one.

Inevitably, the stalemate had to end, though.

After another afternoon spent cleaning out my grandmother's attic, I return to the guys' house to find the furniture in the living room being completely rearranged.