Page 30

CHAPTER 30

PHARO

The automatic doors whoosh open, and the familiar scent of antiseptic and lavender hits me square in the chest. It’s strange how something can be both comforting and slightly clinical at the same time.

Jax hangs back just a little as we walk in, hands in his jacket pockets, posture loose but alert. I know that stance. It means he’s trying to play it cool but has already scanned the exits, counted the nurses, and clocked the guy in the corner reading upside down.

The front desk is manned— womanned —by Allison today. She brightens when she sees us. Or more accurately, when she sees him .

“Well, look who’s back so soon,” she says with a teasing smile. “Good to see you again, Jax.”

I arch a brow. “So soon? It’s been weeks since I asked you to visit.”

Jax shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I dropped by a few times while you were deployed. Then a few turned into... more. Figured someone should keep her company. And you know. A promise is a promise.”

My stomach does that annoying little twist it sometimes does around him—equal parts admiration and what did I do to deserve this guy?

Though, ironically, that’s also something I ask myself when he’s being a pain in the ass.

“You promised her you’d visit?”

He shrugs again, cheeks definitely pink. “We have a connection. She likes me.”

“She called you a ‘slippery bastard’ the first time she met you.”

“Term of endearment. You should hear what she calls you,” he smirks.

I shake my head, but before I can make a sarcastic comment, Allison buzzes us through with a grin. “She’s in the garden room today. Go on back.”

We find her parked by the window, wrapped in a quilt patterned with cartoon birds. Her gaze is distant, flicking over the flowers outside with a dreamy kind of detachment.

“Hi, Mami,” I say gently, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Brought someone you might recognize.”

Her eyes snap into focus like a camera lens sharpening. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite delinquent.”

Jax salutes. “Reporting for duty, ma’am.”

She cackles and the smile lights up her eyes. “Don’t tempt me. You still owe me for the time you spilled prune juice on my bingo cards.”

Jax appears confused. “I... never did that.”

She raises her brows. “Not yet. But bingo starts in an hour.”

Jax kneels beside her wheelchair, still grinning like an idiot, and she runs her hand over his carefully gelled faux hawk, then smacks the back of his head lightly. “Your mind is rotting, like mine is.”

He winces playfully. “What’d I do now?”

“You took too long to see what a catch my son is,” she mutters, then shoots me a sideways glance. “Though you do clean up nice.”

My mouth opens, but she cuts me off before I can speak. “You two together yet, or are you still pretending it’s just friendship?”

Jax chokes. I blink.

“Uh. We’re... together,” I say.

“Finally,” she sighs. “I was beginning to think I’d have to haunt you both from the afterlife just to force a confession.”

Then—with absolute precision—she rolls forward and runs over Jax’s foot.

“Ow!” he yelps, hopping back.

“Oh dear,” she says innocently. “Was that your toe ?”

Jax glares at her, and she beams, absolutely unrepentant.

“I like him,” she whispers to me conspiratorially. “He’s sturdy.”

“Not sure that’s what he was going for,” I murmur, trying not to laugh.

Jax rubs his foot, grumbling under his breath. But he doesn’t move away. In fact, he shifts a little closer to her chair, their shoulders brushing, and for a brief second, the three of us just sit there in easy silence.

It’s chaos. It’s imperfect. It’s home.

And for the first time in a long time, I started to believe I might actually get to keep it.