Page 26

CHAPTER 26

PHARO

“...and that’s how Brandt’s mom’s rosebush caught fire,” West finishes explaining.

Brandt rolls his eyes at the absurdity, but a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

“It was an accident. I swear!” West insists.

“She asked me to leave you at home next time.”

West grins like he’s won the lottery. “Well, that’s a damn shame. My loss, I guess.”

Riggs suggested insisted I not sit beside Jax today, so I chose a seat next to West, which technically puts me next to share. But since I never have before, Riggs skips over me.

“Rhett?” he asks, his voice softening on his partner’s name.

“Hold up. I’ve got something to say.” My fingers rub over the cardboard heart pinned to my chest. It's covered with pink glittery hearts and reads:

“We're not fighting today. Ask us how!”

Jax is wearing an identical one.

He already has specks of pink glitter dotting his face because he touched it, then rubbed his eye. Now he’s blinking like a confused raccoon who just discovered a highlighter.

The Bitches thought this was a suitable punishment for fighting in group.

They weren’t wrong.

All eyes turn to me, including Jax’s. The words press against my throat. My palms sweat. I’ve imagined speaking up a hundred times, but now that it’s real, it feels like stepping off a ledge.

“I’ve been quiet because I didn’t think it mattered,” I say, voice low but steady. “But it does. At least, it does to me.”

Jax’s gaze sharpens—like he’s trying to read between the lines, like he already knows where this is going.

I take a breath and keep going.

“I didn’t come here to make friends, or to talk, or to… feel anything, really.” My voice wavers, just slightly, but I push through it. “But something shifted. And I think I’ve been pretending not to notice.”

A few people glance at each other, but I don’t turn away from Jax. He’s still watching me—still unreadable, except for the way his jaw tightens.

“I keep telling myself it’s easier to stay quiet. Safer.” I swallow hard. “But silence isn’t safety. It’s just another kind of hiding. And Jax and I agreed we weren’t doing that anymore.”

The guys swap looks, maybe guessing what I’m going to say. They have no idea what’s coming.

“Four years ago, I was a different man. A master sergeant. Confident. Not scared of anything. Cocky.”

Jax snorts and murmurs, “Thought you said you were different.”

Ignoring his snark, I take another deep breath for courage and continue. “Jax was under my command, and so was his friend, Jordan.”

Jax’s eyes darken, not just with emotion, but pain.

“He was in a bad place, and his recklessness and my lack of intervention got him killed. And now, the only thing that scares me is losing someone I’m responsible for.”

There it is. The truth, laid bare and buzzing in the open air like a live wire. My heart’s pounding, and I’m met with the reaction I expected most. Silence.

Jax blinks once, slowly. His hands flex on his knees, like he’s holding himself back from something.

“Not only did I fuck up with Jordan,” I say, voice rough, “I fucked up with Jax. See, we had a thing simmering between us. An attraction we had to deny—but it was there, beneath everything. And I hurt him. Bad. The kind of hurt you don’t come back from. The kind you don’t forgive.”

Jax doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t speak. But his hands curl into fists on his knees, and I know he’s hearing every word.

“I shut him out. After everything went down with Jordan, I couldn’t look at him without seeing my own failure. So I pretended he meant nothing. Like none of it ever happened.”

Still no reaction from Jax—but the muscle in his jaw ticks, and that silence? It’s louder than a scream.

A bitter laugh slips out of me. “But then Jax gets this hair up his ass to move to some nowhere town smack dab in the mountains because he needs help but won’t let himself ask for it. And I feel this undeniable need to follow him. To keep an eye on him—since, you know, I’m the one who put him in that bad spot.”

I glance at him, but he’s still stone-faced. Still unreadable.

“So here we both are—too close for comfort and too damn stubborn to talk about it.”

The room is dead silent, the kind of quiet that settles in your bones. My heart’s thudding like I’ve just sprinted a mile, but I keep my gaze steady.

“I thought maybe being here, around people who get it, might help him. Might help me, too. But instead, we’ve just been circling each other like live grenades.”

Jax finally raises his head, eyes burning. “You followed me?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “Not proud of it. Not ashamed, either. The fuck do you think I’m here for? Do I look like a Balls Buddy to you?”

West and Mandy snicker. All eyes volley back and forth between me and Jax like they’re watching a tennis match.

“But you can only milk a grenade for so long before it explodes in your face—and Jax and I finally exploded. It wasn’t dramatic. No yelling, no fists. Just a quiet night, too much whiskey, and years of tension finally snapping like a tripwire. We said things we shouldn’t have. Didn’t say the things we should’ve. And somewhere between the silences and the stares, we crossed a line we can’t uncross. For weeks, every time I looked at him, I saw the fallout—his pain, my guilt, and that goddamn spark that never went out, no matter how hard we tried to smother it. And trust me, Jax really fucking tried.”

Finally, a crack in his exterior! A grin.

“With Brewer’s help, we came to an understanding about some things and got some much-needed clarity.” I pause, locking eyes with Jax, my voice hard but honest. “I’m not here to rewrite history.” I take a breath and push through. “I’m trying to make sure we don’t repeat it.”

His hard expression softens, and he swallows, nodding. For once in our miserable history, Jax and I are on the same page.

“See, the thing about Jax is, not only is he a monumental pain in the ass, but he won't back down when he thinks he's right. And Jax always thinks he's right. It’s fucking infuriating. Exhausting. Occasionally impressive. But mostly, it just makes me want to throttle him.”

Snickers from the guys who know him best. They know I’m not telling lies.

“But he's not the same man he was four years ago, either. I never thought I’d see the day Jax could forgive me—but that’s exactly what he did.”

Fuck. I didn’t mean to let my eyes water.

I didn’t realize talking about it would hit me this hard.

Breathing in through my nose, I clear the sniffles and take a slow, steadying breath. No one says a word. They just… let me have this moment.

“I'm sorry as hell that I broke the group rule by fighting with Jax the other day. I can’t apologize enough for that—but I won’t take it back. Because of that punch? It led to a new beginning. One that's been four years in the making.”

I pause for effect.

“I won't get another chance with him. So I better fucking make this one count for all it’s worth.”

Getting to my feet, I cross the room and take the empty chair beside Jax—the one I wanted to sit in before Riggs separated us.

With my heart in my throat, I hold out my hand.

And Jax slips his into mine.

“Hey,” I say softly.

He grins. “You say fuck a lot.”

“It’s an acceptable response for everything,” I say, matching his grin. “Also gender neutral—so it fits any scenario.”

Jax’s thumb brushes over my knuckles, and I finally feel like I can breathe again.

“You're fucking unbelievable,” he laughs.

A round of applause starts up—slow at first, then building into a chaotic mess of claps, whistles, and a couple of dramatic gasps for good measure.

“I won’t believe it until I see it,” McCormick calls out, grinning. “Prove you’re together.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m already moving.

Pulling my hand from Jax’s, I slide it behind his neck and tug him in—pressing a kiss to his mouth. Just long enough to prove our point. Just short enough to leave them wanting more.

Jax blinks at me when I pull back, lips parted in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in like he’s tempted to go for round two.

There’s a loud whoop from the back of the room.

“I didn't even know they were gay,” McCormick admits. “I mean, not for sure.”

“Look who's talking,” Nash teases. “You and Stiles were straight a few months ago. Who knew you'd take your love of hot dogs a little too literal?”

A speck of pink glitter under Jax’s right eye catches the light, and I smile and brush it away.

“How long do we have to wear these again?” Jax mutters, tugging at the safety pin on his shirt like he might free himself with sheer willpower.

“Until the glitter becomes part of your soul,” I say solemnly.

Riggs chuckles. “Until the end of the day. Or until you two find five compliments to say about each other. Whichever comes first.”

Jax groans. “That’s extortion.”

“That’s justice,” McCormick calls from across the room. “You two were a menace.”

I roll my eyes, but don’t bother arguing. Because somehow, the worst part isn’t the glitter. It’s the way Jax’s hand brushes against mine when he adjusts the heart again, and I want him to do it on purpose.

We’re not fighting today.

But we’re definitely something .

Resting my forehead against Jax’s, I grin against his lips. “You want to get out of here?”

“Fuck yes. Save me.”

We dip out of the group meeting and leave the peanut gallery behind in our wake. “That felt fucking amazing,” I admit as we walk down the hall, hand-in-hand.

“You've got some big balls. If I hadn't seen them for myself, I wouldn't believe it,” Jax teases with a pointed look at my groin.

“You want to see them again? Just to be sure? There’s a bathroom up ahead.”

* * *

“This is fucking absurd,” Jax complains, sulking like a toddler.

Rhett scoffs. “Oh, you thought wearing a glitter heart pinned to your chest for an hour was sufficient punishment?”

Nash backs him up. “No fighting in group. Period. End of discussion. Time to pay the piper.”

“So,” West asks with a wicked grin, “What’s it gonna be, Jax?”

As I watch Jax hesitate to buy more time, I can’t help but laugh at the predicament we landed in. Punishment karaoke. It had to be Brandt’s idea, I’m sure. He thinks karaoke is the answer to the world’s problems. If he could introduce it to the Earth Summit, the world’s leaders might find a way toward world peace.

McCormick scrolls through the karaoke tablet with the evil glee of a man who lives for drama.

“Oh,” he says, eyes lighting up, “ Shallow . That’s the one.”

Jax groans. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. You get to be Bradley. Your boy over here’s Gaga.”

Fuck. Me. I push my chair out and straighten up, hiking up my pants. “Fine. But I’m going full Oscar performance.” Might as well own it.

“You better,” McCormick smirks. “Your glitter hearts depend on it.”

The karaoke machine crackles to life, and McCormick shoves the mic into my hand like he’s handing over a loaded weapon.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he grins. “Win your man back.”

“We weren’t even—” I start, but Jax cuts me off with a sigh and grabs the second mic like a man accepting his fate.

“Go big or go home,” Rhett calls, cracking up with Mandy.

The track starts. Low piano notes echo through the room. The opening line looms.

I glance at Jax. He’s already glaring at the lyrics screen like it personally betrayed him.

Taking a breath, I begin.

“Tell me somethin’, boy…”

My voice comes out steadier than I expect. Too steady, maybe. It’s almost… sincere. I don’t look at Jax when I sing it. I can’t. But I feel the room go still.

He exhales hard through his nose and picks up his line like it tastes bad.

“Aren’t you tired tryin’ to fill that void…”

McCormick’s whispering “Oh my god” behind his hand. Someone’s already recording on their phone. Riggs is stone-faced, but I see the twitch in his jaw—he’s holding in a smile.

And then it happens. The part.

My cue.

I close my eyes.

“I’m off the deep end, watch as I dive in…”

I sing, because yeah—no metaphor could be more accurate.

My voice breaks on dive , but I push through. Jax’s eyes are on me now, burning holes in the side of my face. Sweat blooms under my arms, and the stage lights feel hotter than torches.

We hit the chorus together, our voices not blending so much as colliding —a little off, a little raw, but honest. Painfully so.

I look at him finally.

And I’m gone.

We finish the song in total silence—no applause, no commentary. Just that weird stillness that happens when everyone’s pretending not to feel something.

Jax sets the mic down gently and breaks the silence. “I’d like to formally request a different punishment next time.”

McCormick blinks. “What the hell could top that ?”

Jax mutters, “Public execution would be less painful.”

But his hand brushes mine as we walk off the makeshift stage. And he doesn’t pull away. We take our seats at the table, and I hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable ribbing.

The Bitches don’t disappoint.

“Pretty sure I’m pregnant now,” Brewer says, deadpan. “Thanks for that.”

Laughter erupts. Loud, chaotic, exactly what Jax and I deserve.

“Y’all good now?” Riggs asks, one brow raised like he’s only half-joking. “Or do we need to set up a second duet?”

“Can we not?” Jax mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. He’s blushing. Blushing. That glitter heart on his chest sparkles.

I feel like we’re walking Hallmark cards or some shit.

“You hit that high note like you meant it,” McCormick says, pretending to wipe a tear. “So raw. So tender.”

“You guys want a moment alone?” West asks, smirking. “We can step outside. Let you work through the rest of that tension.”

Jax looks like he’s contemplating a second fight just to reset the energy.

I nudge him with my elbow. “Admit it. You liked it.”

“I liked that it’s over.”

“You sure?” I grin. “Because I’m pretty sure you were about to cry when I sang to you.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was trying not to laugh.”

“Uh-huh.” Leaning in close, I whisper just loud enough for his ears only, “Later tonight, I’ll give you a private encore, JJ.”

Jax spits out his mouthful of soda, spraying Brewer’s shirt. But there’s a faint blush tinting his cheeks, just above his scruff. And despite the ribbing, the humiliation, the glitter slowly coating my shirt…

It kind of feels like a win.