Page 88 of Coming In Hot

“Don’t be.” I sit up and lean back against the headboard, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’d rather be awake with you than asleep without you.”

He lowers his arm, just enough to peek at me. “That’s disgustingly romantic.”

“Yeah, well. I had to balance out your brooding somehow.”

That gets the smallest, reluctant twitch of his mouth. A win, in my book.

Jax turns onto his side, propping his head up on his fist. “You’re leaving today, aren’t you.”

It’s not so much a question as an accusation.

His silence lingers long after I’ve started moving around the room, gathering up my things—jacket, wallet, phone charger tangled in the outlet like it’s trying to delay me.

Jax doesn’t say a word. Just watches from the bed, head resting on his hand, eyes sharp and unreadable.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, then pause at the door.

“You’re really not gonna say anything?” I ask.

He shrugs, too casual to be real. “You’re doing what you gotta do.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Jax sits up straighter, running a hand through his spiky hair. His jaw flexes, and I can practically hear the fight happening inside him—say it, don’t say it, say it.

Finally: “You said this was yourlastrotation.”

“It is.”

“Right.” His tone is flat. Defensive. “Except that’s what you saidlasttime, too.”

I exhale, step back into the room, and close the door behind me. “This is different.”

“Why? Because of me?” he snaps, and then instantly appears to regret it. “Because if that’s the case, maybe you should think twice.”

I take a beat. Let him hear the silence.

“Yeah,” I say. “Because of you. Because I want something more than war stories and bullet scars. Because I want to wake up next to someone who makes the world feellessheavy for once.”

He swallows hard.

“And yeah,” I continue, softer now, “I’m scared too. Scared I’ll get back there and forget what this feels like. Scared I’ll start running again. But I’m more scared of losing this.”

Jax rolls out of bed with a groan like he’s battling the hardest part of his day.

“You promise you’ll come back?” he asks. No sarcasm. No snark. Just raw.

I walk up to him and place my hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at me. “I promise. No extensions. No detours. Just one last goodbye.”

He dips his chin—just barely. But in that tiny shift, I see it: a fracture in all that steel.

Jax searches my eyes. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“I’m counting on it. I can’t change what happened,” I murmur. “But I can be here for what comes next.”

He exhales like it’s the first real breath he’s taken in days. “You always say the right thing. It’s annoying.”

“I practice in the mirror.”