Page 17

CHAPTER 17

PHARO

“Yes, Mami. I’ll bring him. See you soon.”

I lay the phone down and frown. How in the hell am I going to get Jax to agree to come with me to visit my mother again?

I run my fingers through my hair, pacing the living room. I can already imagine the excuses.

“I’m busy.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Isn’t it a family thing?”

Yeah, I know him too well.

But this isn’t just about me. It’s about my mom, and I’m pretty sure if Jax knows that, he might at least consider it. He always acts like he doesn’t care, but I can see through that. And I know he’s got a soft spot for her, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

Fuck it, best to get this over with. I grab my keys and the gift bag sitting on the console table by the door and head out to my truck. The drive to Jax’s place feels like it takes forever. I can’t avoid this conversation, no matter how much I want to. My mom’s waiting on me, and I need Jax to back me up.

When I pull up to his apartment building, I’m just in time. He’s sitting on his bike, still idling, the engine rumbling beneath him as he takes off his helmet. The sun hits his profile just right, casting a golden glow on his skin, and for a second, I forget why I’m even here.

He notices me pulling in and flashes that grin—half teasing, half smug—like he won some bet with himself by seeing me show up. He knows I want something, and I’m sure he’s prepared to deny me, out of hand.

I put the truck in park and rolled down the window on his side. “You just getting back?”

He gives me a lazy once-over. “Yup. Went for a ride with some of the ALR guys. What’s up?”

For a second, I debate not telling him the reason, just ordering him to get in, but Jax doesn’t respond well to orders. Or lies. So I take a deep breath and lay it all out.

“My mom wants us to come visit,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, but there’s no hiding the slight edge in my voice. “She’s asking for you, Jax. She wants to see you again.”

He quirks an eyebrow, looking me over like I’ve just told him I’m planning a funeral instead of a visit. “Is that so?” He leans back on his bike, arms crossed. “And you want me to tag along? Why?”

I groan internally. This is going exactly how I thought it would. “She says…” I can’t do it—I can’t bring myself to repeat what she said. My tongue freezes up, preventing me from speaking.

But Jax is waiting patiently for an answer, studying me with that insufferable calm of his, like he’s just about to watch the train wreck happen in slow motion. Again, I consider lying, but there’s no point. She’d probably just repeat the absurdity when she sees him. There’s no escaping the embarrassment now.

I rub the back of my neck, looking anywhere but at him. “She says you seem like a nice boy. A sweet boy with a heart of gold, which in her culture, is the highest praise.” I say it fast, almost like I’m trying to get it over with, but I can already feel the heat creeping up my neck.

Jax’s eyebrows raise all the way to his hairline, and he does that thing where his lips curl into a teasing grin, and I instantly regret every word that just left my mouth.

“She says what ?” he asks, sounding like he’s trying to stifle a laugh.

I roll my eyes, already knowing where this is going. “She says you… connected.”

The smirk on his face widens, and I can’t decide whether I want to punch him or bury my face in my hands. “Oh, we connected, huh?” He turns off the ignition and climbs off the bike. With his helmet in hand, he takes a dramatic step toward me, lowering his voice just a touch, making me want to slap him even more. “What exactly did I connect with, huh?”

I can feel my face flush, and I try to shove the words back in my mouth, but they just tumble out anyway. “She said you made a real connection with her. Like, a deep one.”

Jax lets out a low whistle, looking almost impressed. “A deep connection, huh? Damn. I must have really made an impression.” He laughs, clearly enjoying the hell out of this, and I want to crawl under a rock. “So, what, now she’s trying to set me up with you or something?”

“I don’t fucking know, Jax. But I wouldn’t doubt it, so be warned. Just visit, smile, play along, be polite, and we’ll be done. That’s all I’m asking. Just this once.” I hold his gaze for a second, my frustration simmering beneath the surface. “It’s important to me. And it would mean a lot if you came.”

The silence stretches between us, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s going to say no. Finally, Jax sighs, his shoulders dropping. “Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes as if he’s annoyed, but there’s a softness in his voice that catches me off guard. “I’ll come. But only because I know what that just cost you. And because I can’t say no to your mom.”

My heart stutters in relief, and I almost want to let out a loud whoop of victory. Instead, I force a smile, trying to keep things light. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

Jax climbs into my truck. He drops his helmet at his feet and buckles his seatbelt. “Yes the fuck you do. Don’t think I’ll forget that.” He shoots me a sideways grin, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “After all,” he grins sweetly, too sweetly, like saccharine. “We have a deep connection.”

I want to crawl into a hole, but instead, I just sigh deeply and mutter, “You’re the worst.” I hand him the gift bag, and he takes it with a raised brow.

“What’s this?” he asks, shaking it gently.

“Just a little something for my mom. She’ll like it.”

His head bobs, expression softening. “I’m just kidding. You’re not so bad, you know.”

It’s almost like he’s trying to make a joke, but there’s something in his tone that makes it feel more like a compliment than anything else.

“It’s a shame your mom likes me best, though. Let’s go make her happy, then. But don’t think I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” he adds with a playful wink.

I roll my eyes. “Of course not. You don’t have a heart.”

Allison’s eyes pop wide when she sees Jax with me. I’ve never, not once in the six years my mom has resided here, brought a guest with me. I’m sure the entire staff will be gossiping about it before we even reach my mother’s room.

“Your mother is having a good day,” Allison beams. “She’s in the dayroom watching TV.”

“Thanks, Allison.”

Jax follows me down the long corridor lined with photographs of smiling families having the absolute time of their lives, unlike the residents here. Our heavy boots thudding against the scuffed linoleum is the only sound.

As we enter the dayroom, I spot my mom across the room. Her gaze is fixed out the window, not on the TV. The sunlight streams in, casting a soft glow across her face, but she doesn’t seem to notice it. I wish I had more time to spend here, taking her on walks outside, letting her feel the breeze on her skin, and enjoying the fresh air and the world outside of these sterile walls.

I can’t even remember the last time we did that—just the two of us, laughing without a care in the world.

I swallow the lump in my throat and turn to Jax, who’s trailing behind me at a respectful distance.

As we move toward her, I force a smile on my face, trying to push the overwhelming sadness back. I don’t want Jax to see how much this is affecting me, even though I know he can probably read me like a book. When I’m close enough, my mom blinks a few times and turns her head slowly toward us, her eyes softening when they land on me.

“Ramesses,” she says, her voice raspy from the medication.

“Hey, Mami.”

Her gaze falls on Jax behind me, and her expression turns sharper. “Did you bring my slippers?”

He rushes forward, holding out the gift bag clutched in his hands. “Sure did.” She beams, appearing surprised but satisfied. “You thought I’d forget, didn’t you?” Jax asks, sounding genuinely amused.

My mom takes it from him. She pulls out the soft, fluffy slippers from inside the bag, running her fingers over them with a small hum of approval. “They’ll do. Now, if I can just keep that thieving witch from stealing them again.”

“You want me to bust into her room and steal them back? I’m totally down for a little B&E action.”

I can’t help but laugh softly at the banter between them. It feels so strange, seeing Jax interact with my mom like this. He’s always been more of the stoic, brooding type, but there’s something about him now, in this moment, that feels lighter. He’s not just the guy I’ve been bickering with, the one who pushes my buttons at every turn—he’s also the guy who takes the time to listen to my mom, to make sure she has what she needs.

What could possibly be more attractive?

My mom inspects the slippers one more time before sliding them back into the bag, a satisfied expression settling on her face. “I like them. Good choice, Jax,” she says, giving him a small nod of approval.

Jax seems slightly taken aback by her approval, a soft flush coloring his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck. “Glad you like them,” he says, though his voice carries a hint of awkwardness. He doesn’t feel the slightest guilt over taking credit for my gift, which doesn’t surprise me.

“I’m glad you came,” my mom continues, her voice now softening. “You make him laugh more than I do.”

Her assessment catches me off guard, and my gaze snaps to her, a mixture of surprise and confusion flickering in my chest. Make him laugh? My mom isn’t the type to throw out compliments easily, and hearing her say something like that makes my heart twist in ways I don’t expect.

Before I can say anything, Jax chuckles, that deep, infectious sound that always seems to bring a little warmth to the air. A sound I don’t hear often enough. “I do my best,” he replies, offering her a casual grin.

I stand there, watching them, rubbing at the spot where pressure is building in my chest. This isn’t just about my mom anymore. It’s about Jax, about the way he’s shifting the dynamic between us, how easy he makes it to forget the years of walls I’ve built. And the fact that my mom is seeing this, is seeing him not as a stranger but as someone who might be worth her approval… well, that just complicates things in ways I didn’t expect.

It’s easier to understand the deep connection she spoke of. I thought it was a joke or misunderstanding on her part, but it’s not. The connection is there—it’s palpable. I can feel it.

I shift uncomfortably, trying to shake off the strange sensation in my chest. I’ve always been the one who’s here for my mom, always the one who’s put in the time, making sure she’s taken care of. And yet, here’s Jax—who’s barely known her a fraction of the time I have—and he’s already slipping into this role with such ease.

My thoughts swirl in a mix of emotions, a cocktail of gratitude and guilt. I wish I could relax, but the change of Jax’s place in my life, of the subtle shifts happening around us—is pressing down on me. I can’t stop thinking about how right this feels, even if it’s making me uneasy.

“Mom,” I finally say, trying to pull myself together, “you doing okay?”

She gazes up at me, eyes softening, a small curve tugging at her lips. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” she says, her voice more reassuring than usual. “You don’t need to worry so much.” Her gaze drifts to Jax, and for a moment, I’m certain there’s a quiet approval there. “And I’m glad you brought him with you. He’s a good one.”

He’s a good one. I try not to let it show, but I can feel the heat rising to my face. There’s a pride in her voice that I’m not used to hearing, especially when she’s talking about someone who isn’t me.

Jax, as usual, doesn’t help matters. He tilts his head slightly, smirking as if he knows exactly how much importance her opinion carries. “I try,” he says, that playful gleam back in his eyes.

I choke on the snort I try and swallow back, making my eyes water. Good ? Jax? That’s rich. My mom doesn’t know the half of it. Jax is a lot of things. However, good isn’t one of the words I’d use to describe him.

Jax catches my expression and raises an eyebrow, like he’s daring me to challenge her assessment. “What? I am good,” he says, his tone mock-serious. He glances over at me, the playful smirk never leaving his face. “In fact, I’m a damn saint. Just ask anyone.”

I clear my throat, shaking my head. “He’s not exactly what you’d call… saintly ,” I say, my voice dry. “But he means well. Sort of.”

Jax gives me a pointed look, but I can tell he’s not offended. We’ve been through enough of this banter over the years that nothing really hits anymore.

“Tell her, Jax,” I add, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “How many people do you know that can qualify for restricted duties while serving overseas three times? In one year?”

It seemed every time I turned around, I was writing him up for something else.

He doesn't flinch. Instead, he grins like I’ve just told a joke only we get. “I was young and ambitious,” he says with a dramatic sigh. “The world is full of opportunities. Who am I to turn them down?”

My mom’s expression is a mix of amusement and confusion, but I can see that she's trying to understand him in her way. She doesn’t have all the context, and maybe that’s for the best. The less she knows, the easier it is for me to pretend this whole thing with Jax isn’t complicated .

Jax gives me a sideways glance, like he can feel the shift in the room, too. But he doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s always been good at pretending, at making everything seem effortless. Maybe that’s what makes him good —not the saint part, but the fact that he’s always there when it counts.

And maybe that’s why, for all the shit I give him, I can’t help but feel like he’s starting to earn a place in this weird little corner of my life.