Page 36 of Switch

I watch him step outside, his broad shoulders illuminated by the porch light as he brings the phone to his ear. The sliding door closes softly behind him, but it doesn’t dull the pang in my chest.

I know it’s club business—it always is when he gets that look—but it still stings. There’s a part of him, a whole world, really, that he keeps locked away. I tell myself I get it, that it’s not personal, but it doesn’t stop the small ache of being left on the outside.

I busy myself at the table, straightening silverware that doesn’t need straightening, pretending I’m not stealing glances at him through the window. His expression is tense, his freehand gesturing as he speaks in low tones. Whatever it is, it’s not good.

When he comes back inside, his face is set in a grim line. He doesn’t need to say anything for me to know he’s upset.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, his voice softer now. “But I’ve gotta head out. There’s something I need to take care of at the club.” He grabs his cut and puts it on.

I force a smile, nodding like it doesn’t bother me. “Oh, okay. I’ll clean up then head home.”

His eyes soften as he steps closer, his hand resting on my cheek. “Stay. I want you in my bed when I get home tonight.” he says.

“Okay,” I say, wishing he’d stay. “Go do what you need to do.”

He leans in, kissing me softly, and for a moment, I almost believe the ache will go away.

As the door closes behind him, the house feels quieter, emptier. I sit at the table for a minute, staring at the untouched food, before getting up to clear our plates. It’s not the night I’d hoped for, but this is the reality of being with someone like Jax.

The quiet hum of the fridge fills the kitchen as I pack away the last of the food. The containers feel heavier than they should, or maybe it’s just me. My appetite’s long gone, replaced by a tight knot in my stomach that refuses to loosen.

Oreo follows me into the living room, her tail wagging as she jumps onto the couch. She looks at me with her big, soulful eyes, and for a moment, I smile despite the ache in my chest.

“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, girl,” I say, scratching behind her ears.

I settle in with a blanket and flip through the channels, landing on a rerun of some crime drama I don’t have the energy to follow. Oreo stretches out beside me, her head on my lap, her breathing steady and comforting.

The hours slip by, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls. When the clock hits 10, I finally turn it off and head to bed, Oreo padding after me.

She hops onto the bed as if it’s her rightful place, curling up beside me with a contented sigh. I slip under the covers, my body tired but my mind refuses to rest. I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts spiraling into places I don’t want them to go.

What if he’s out drinking with his friends? What if one of those club girls is doing things for him?

I clench my eyes shut, trying to block out the images my brain conjures, but it’s no use. The uncertainty gnaws at me, and I hate it.

I don’t want to be the clingy, insecure girlfriend—the one who questions everything and can’t trust the person she’s with. But the truth is, I barely know this part of Jax’s life. The club, the people, the world he’s part of—it’s all a mystery to me.

And it scares me.

Oreo shifts beside me, her head nuzzling against my side, and I stroke her fur absently.

“What am I doing here?” I whisper into the darkness.

The question hangs in the air, unanswered.

I tell myself to stop overthinking, to trust him, to trust what we’ve started building together. But as the hours drag on and sleep remains out of reach, the doubts linger, clawing at the edges of my mind. I think I’m in over my head.

Eventually I fall asleep. Sometime later, the bed dips and strong arms wrap around me, pulling me close. The warmth of Jax’s body seeps into mine, and the tension in my chest starts to ease. “What time is it?” I mumble, my voice groggy as sleep tries to pull me back under.

“Three-thirty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “Shh, go back to sleep, baby.”

I roll over, pressing my face against his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling me. His hand brushes up and down my back, a small, gentle motion that makes me feel safe.

Whatever had been swirling in my head earlier fades into the background. For now, in his arms, I let myself relax and drift off again, knowing I’m exactly where I need to be.

After a long day at work, all I want is to go home, change into some comfy clothes, and enjoy the silence of my own space. As much as I love spending time with Jax, I need a night to myself to recharge.

When he calls and offers to bring dinner over, I feel a pang of guilt for saying no. “I just need a quiet night,” I tell him, and thankfully, he doesn’t press.

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