Page 32

CHAPTER 32

PHARO

We step outside, and the door clicks shut behind us. The sky’s painted with the soft blue of early evening, sun just starting to tip toward the trees.

Jax exhales slowly beside me, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to settle the world back into place.

I shove my hands into my pockets. “Didn’t know you were visiting her that much.”

He doesn’t look at me right away. Just shrugs, one shoulder lifted like a half-admission. “Didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“It is to me.”

That gets his eyes on me—sharp, unreadable, then slowly softening.

“She asked me once to take care of you,” he says, voice low. “Said you act like you don’t need it, but you do.”

My throat tightens. “She said that?”

Jax nods, then squints up at the sky like it’s somehow safer than looking at me. “So I figured, if I couldn’t get to you, I’d sit with her. She’d talk sometimes. Mostly ramble. Once she tried to set me up with a nurse named Daryl.”

“She thinks Daryl’s a woman.”

“Daryl is a woman. Pretty sure she’s married to someone named Carmen. Or possibly a golden retriever. Jury’s out.”

I laugh. It catches me off guard. And Jax grins, the real one—the one that peeks out when he’s not thinking about it.

He kicks at the gravel. “I didn’t go to score points, Pharo. I just... missed you. And she’s a part of you. She loves to go on and on about her Ramessus , and I don’t mind listening.”

The silence between us stretches, warm and full. He steps closer.

“You still planning to go back?” he asks quietly. “Egypt. The training role.”

I give a slight tilt of my head. “Just for a few weeks. Then I’m home for good.”

He lets that sit a second, then tilts his head. “You mean it this time?”

“I do.”

Jax studies me like he’s checking for cracks. Then, satisfied, he nudges my arm with his. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not visiting your mom every damn week just to end up single.”

I snort. “She’d never forgive you.”

“She’d run me over again.”

“She absolutely would.”

There’s a beat, and then I reach for his hand. Not because I have to—but because I want to. Because this— him —feels like the part I’ve been missing.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t smirk. Just laces our fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And in this quiet, golden light, with his hand in mine and the promise of home waiting on the other side of goodbye, I finally feel like I don’t have to choose between the parts of me anymore.

Maybe I get to have it all.