Page 23

CHAPTER 23

JAX

I take the bend going seventy, flirting with the possibility of skidding right off this mountain. The tires squeal as they grip the asphalt, the sharp scent of burnt rubber in the air. My heart races faster than the engine, adrenaline pulsing through my veins like a drug. Every inch of me is alive in the danger of it, the control slipping through my fingers like sand. But that’s the point, isn’t it?

It’s the chaos I crave, the risk. Because, in a way, it feels like it’s the only thing I can control right now.

The road twists up ahead, a sharp curve with no guardrails, just the drop-off of the mountain staring me down. I can almost hear my breath in my ears, a mix of thrill and fear that’s almost intoxicating.

The world is nothing but a blur of trees and jagged rock. It would be so easy to let go—let the world pull me into the abyss.

Behind me, the roar of another bike threatens to overtake me.

I know without having to turn around that it’s Pharo. His Triumph Rocket is a lot faster than my Indian. I push the bike faster, not giving him an inch. But I know it won’t be long before he’s right on top of me. He’s not going to let up. Neither of us will.

Can things get any worse?

Thunder cracks across the darkening sky, and the heavens open up with a downpour.

“That was rhetorical,” I scream into the wind, “not a fucking challenge!”

The rain comes down in sheets, instantly soaking me to the bone. I squint through the downpour, trying to focus on the road ahead, but the world’s gone blurry, the blacktop slick and treacherous. I can’t even hear myself think over the roar of the storm and the pounding rain.

“Perfect timing, really,” I mutter, gripping the handlebars tighter, leaning forward as the bike fights the elements. The wind’s picking up, throwing the rain sideways, stinging my face. The sky flashes with lightning, casting everything in an eerie, yellow light. And just when I think it can't get worse, the bike behind me revs up, its engine growling louder as it refuses to be left behind.

“Damn it,” I grunt, kicking the bike into a higher gear. My hands are starting to slip on the handlebars, the leather gloves no match for the soaking wet grips. I’ve been through some shit in my time, but riding through a storm with some psycho tailing me on a mountain road at seventy miles per hour? This is a whole new level of crazy.

Pharo pulls up beside me, keeping pace. “Pull the fuck over or I’ll crash both of us into the fucking mountain,” he screams over the driving wind and rain. His face is soaked and he looks fucking pissed.

I pull ahead, ignoring his threat, and he catches up. “I swear to fucking Christ, Jax. Pull the fuck over!”

I slow the bike, because although I want him to die today, I don’t want to die with him.

The wind bites at my skin, the rain stinging like needles, but it’s nothing compared to the pulse of adrenaline pumping through my veins. I can’t outrun him forever. I don’t want to outrun him forever. I want him to feel what it’s like to be just a little bit closer to the edge. To know the consequences of his own decisions.

I slow down, just enough to give him a chance. Not because I want him to win, but because I’m done with the chase.

I want to see if he’s going to follow me straight into hell.

And then, as if we’re both caught in some sick, twisted game of fate, I make my move. I drop the throttle, not enough to get away, but enough to let him know he’s not in control. Not anymore.

He pulls beside me. For a second, I feel like we’re two wild animals in a death-match, the bikes growling beneath us, the storm above us, and the mountain roads dropping away into the abyss.

The cliffside opens up to the scenic overlook, and I can see the winding road ahead fading into the fog.

I barely avoid the rocks lining the edge of the road, my foot scraping against the gravel, and everything goes still. The only thing I can hear is the pounding of the rain, the thunder rolling across the sky, and the pulse of my heartbeat in my ears.

Pharo’s already pulled his bike to a stop at the edge. He doesn’t glance back, but I can see the silhouette of his body against the darkening sky. He’s waiting, like he’s daring me to come closer. So sure that I’ll come to him.

My tires scream as I brake hard to a stop just a few feet behind him, gravel scattering under my wheels.

He turns to look at me then, his face illuminated by the flashing storm above. His gaze is unreadable, dark, and intense. The rain clings to his skin, making his hair slick against his forehead, but he doesn’t move—just stands there, watching me.

I dismount, the roar of the engine dying down as I step off the bike, my legs unsteady beneath me. I’m soaked through, the wind biting into my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the fire still burning in my chest.

He takes a step toward me, his eyes flicking between me and the road behind us. We’re both silent, the unspoken but familiar strain between us, the chaos of everything that’s led us here.

I take a slow step toward him, matching his gaze with equal intensity, not backing down.

“Done running?” he finally asks, voice low and gritty, the storm still howling around us.

“No,” I reply, my voice thick with defiance. “Not even close.”

“You crazy fucking bastard! You could have died. You almost killed us both.”

“Not yet, I haven’t.” I throw another punch, but Pharo blocks my fist, grabbing my hand in a vice-like grip and squeezing the bones to dust. “Let go of me,” I hiss, jerking my arm away, but Pharo tightens his hold, his fingers digging into my skin.

“Not until you stop running away,” he snaps, his voice low but insistent, the intensity in his eyes matching the grip he has on me. “You don’t get to walk away from this without talking about it. Not again.”

I feel the heat rising in my chest, the frustration boiling over, my hands itching to push him away. My chest heaves, and I’m trying to keep my composure, but it's slipping fast. “You really think I owe you an explanation?” My voice cracks on the last word, and I curse myself for it.

“I can’t keep doing this, Pharo. I can’t keep pretending.”

“Pretending?” he shouts. “That shit was real, Jaxon. For both of us. Neither of us was pretending.”

“Pretending I don’t care,” I explain. The confession costs me a huge chunk of self-respect, but I don’t care anymore. I just want this nightmare to end.

Pharo's face softens, just a fraction, but it feels huge. The walls I’ve been holding up against him—the anger, the hurt, the betrayal—are slipping. I don’t know if I want them to or not.

What the fuck is it about this guy? Why can’t I just walk away once and for all?

“I didn’t leave you, Jax,” he says quietly, his hand still hovering in the space between us like he’s unsure whether to reach out again. “I never wanted to leave you. I don’t know what you think I did, or what changed since I last saw you, but nothing’s changed for me. I didn’t do anything to hurt you.”

I shake my head, the accusation feeling like sandpaper against my tongue. “But you did. You chose to walk away. Accept the job promotion full-time. You made that choice. And now I’m left here trying to figure out what the hell to do with all the crap you left behind.”

I want to step back. I want to leave. I want to walk away from this and never look back, but I can’t. Not when he’s standing there, gazing at me like he cares. Like maybe this mess hasn’t been just mine to deal with.

Pharo appears shocked. “How’d you find out about that?” He shakes his head, scrubbing rain from his face. “You know what? It doesn't matter. I shouldn’t be surprised. But you got it wrong. I didn’t take the job. I turned it down.”

Now it’s my turn to be shocked. “You did?”

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there, close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off him, but far enough that it still feels like there’s a gulf between us.

Pharo steps closer, his presence dominating the space between us. The rain continues to pour, but I can’t seem to focus on anything other than the fact that he’s standing in front of me, his eyes darker than the storm swirling above.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice rough from the storm and something else—something like frustration. “I turned it down.” His jaw clenches, and he runs a hand through his wet hair. “I thought about it, you know? But... it wasn’t the right move. Not for me.”

I stand frozen for a moment, reality not quite sinking in. This whole time, I’d been convinced he was leaving—thinking he had already made his decision. That the job overseas was the thing that was gonna tear us apart, that I was losing him for good.

“God,” I mutter, taking a step back, shaking my head, trying to process this. “I’ve been acting like a fucking idiot, haven’t I?”

“Common sense isn’t a flower that grows in everyone’s garden,” he teases with a smirk that I shouldn’t find sexy, considering I very recently wanted to yeet him over the side of the mountain. “It’s not just you, Jax,” he says quietly. “I’ve been... I’ve been a mess too. I didn’t want to drag you into anything with my job. But I’ve realized that maybe I’m already too deep with you. I can’t walk away, and I hate you just a little for making me care.”

He cares? How much, I wonder. “Not everything’s about you, Pharo.”

He grins, that damn knowing grin that gets under my skin. “Sure it is. You’re just pretending it’s not.”

I want to smack that grin off his face, but I know better. That’ll only make him want me more. Instead, I breathe out a long, controlled sigh, doing my best to keep the walls up.

“So,” I say, my voice barely a whisper now, “what does that mean for us? Are you... Are you staying?”

Pharo stares at me for a long moment, like he’s trying to make a decision in real time. His lips part slightly, but he doesn’t speak. It’s as if he’s weighing every possible answer, trying to figure out if he can say the right thing this time.

Finally, he steps closer again, and I feel the heat of his body even through the cold rain. “It means I’m still here, Jax. And maybe... I’m ready to figure this out. All of it.”

Whatever happens next, I know we’re facing it together. Pharo’s proving that to me. I have to take a leap of faith and meet him halfway. “Tell the truth, did you stay because you want to pursue the garage dream?”

“The garage isn’t the only dream I want to pursue, Jax.” He ghosts his wet lips over mine, just a breath. “You gonna let me fuck you again?”

“Right now?” I ask, knowing that’s not what he meant.

“Whenever. Wherever. I always want you, Jaxy.”

“No,” I correct, nipping his bottom lip as punishment. “I said we’re not doing that.”

I hate his grin.

I hate the twinkle in his gorgeous eyes.

I hate that he thinks he’s got me right where he wants me.

And I hate that he knows I’d fuck him right here, right now, without hesitation.

His blunt nails dig into my jaw as he takes hold of me, pulling me close. His warm breath puffs in a cloud over my lips, and all around us, the rain continues to fall, soaking us to the bone.

“You’re always gonna hate me a little bit, aren’t you?” Pharo asks with a hint of amusement.

“Thought you said it makes the sex better.”

“Agreed.” Pharo nips my lips, sucking the bottom one into his mouth. “In fact, what do you say we go work off a little of that hate right now?”

I say, fuck yes. “I guess I can throw you a bone, if you beg.”

Pharo turns my head, his breath warm against my ear as he whispers, “Don’t get too comfortable, Jax. I may have stayed, but that doesn’t mean I’m going easy on you.”

I smirk, leaning in just enough to tease him, my pulse kicking up. “Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”