Page 18 of Coming In Hot
He smiles, but it’s all teeth and malice. No humor. No warmth. It’s the kind of smile you give your enemy just before you put them in the ground.
The air feels cold. He’s glowering at me like he’s delivering a death blow, like I’m the one who failed—not just once, but over and over. I never realized how much Jax had been holding onto until now.
“You think you can just walk away from this, Pharo?” His voice lowers, a dangerous edge creeping in. “You think you can ignore it all, let it slide? That’s not how this works. You can’t run from the mess you made.”
Jax’s accusation cuts through me like a knife, but it’s not just what he’s saying. It’s the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the one responsible for everything. For Jordan. For Arlo. For whatever damage we’ve done to each other over the years.
But I’m still not sure what to do with all this. I still don’t understandwhyhe’s so hell-bent on making me feel this way. Why the hell he’s playing this twisted game.
“You think you have the right to judge me?” I finally snapped, the anger coming faster than I expected. “You think you’re the one who gets to point fingers?”
Jax’s smile doesn’t fade. He’s enjoying this. “Someone has to, Pharo. Someone has to make you face it.”
And just like that, it clicks. That’s what all of this has been about. Him trying to make me facemyself. He’s been waiting for this, for me to crack open and admit that I’m the one to blame. But is it really me? Or is this just the game Jax plays?
I’m too tired to figure it out right now. Too lost in the mess of it all. But the silence between us says everything I need to hear. Jax is already one step ahead, and I’m just trying to catch up.
I have to get up. I have to get out of here—get away from Jax, from this goddamn apartment, from all the noise in my head. My chest feels tight, like I can’t breathe, and I can’t think straight when he’s staring at me like that, like I’m the one who broke everything.
I push myself off the couch, my legs unsteady, the room spinning just enough to make me feel like I might fall if I don’t keep moving. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I can’t stay here. Not with Jax’s cold eyes on me, not with his words echoing in my skull, twisting around like a knot I can’t untangle.
I trip over his boots near the door, cursing under my breath as I catch myself against the wall. “Do you ever pick up around here?” I spit, my eyes scanning the mess—the dishes piled high in the sink, his helmet tossed carelessly on the kitchen counter like he doesn’t give a damn about anything.
“This isn’t a room inspection, Sergeant,” Jax snaps, his voice sharp, full of that familiar bitterness. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed, glaring at me like he’s daring me to say something else. “We’re not in the barracks anymore. If this place isn’t the palace you’re used to, you can get the fuck out.”
I stand there for a moment, my hands curling into fists at my sides. My anger’s bubbling up again, but I can feel it—everything Jax does is meant to push me. He’s trying to get under my skin, trying to make me crack. And for once, I don’t want to let him. Instead, I just let out a sharp exhale, turning away from the mess. I turn toward the door again, trying to ignore the looming threat of his presence. “I didn’t come here for a fight, Jax.”
My voice is thick, laced with frustration, but I don’t know who I’m really angry at. Him? Me? The whole damn situation?
“Then why did you come?” Jax’s voice is steady, too steady. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move a muscle. His eyes bore into me, like he’s daring me to crack, daring me to say something that will make it all come spilling out. But I won’t give him the satisfaction. Not tonight. Not with him.
I stand there for a beat, the silence stretching out like a blanket of fog. His stare is like a physical presence, locking me in his sights, suffocating the air between us. But I don’t let him break me. I can’t.
I don’t know why I ended up here tonight. Maybe it’s because, for all the shit he’s given me over the years, for all the ways he’s made me feel less than, maybe I thought,just maybe, if anyone understands the pain of guilt, it would be Jax. He’s carried his own demons, hasn’t he?
“Because apparently, all I do is make mistakes. This is just one more.”
My statement lingers, bitter and raw, but I don’t stick around long enough to see if it lands. I don’t want to see the expression on his face, don’t want to know if I’ve finally cracked something in him. Instead, I grab the door handle and wrench it open, stepping out into the cool night air, away from the suffocating tension, away from Jax, away from the mess I can’t seem to escape.
The cold hits me like a shock, and for a moment, I feel like I can breathe again. But the pressure’s still there, pressing down on me. The guilt. The failure. And no matter how far I walk, I don’t think I’ll ever outrun it.
CHAPTER7
PHARO
It’sa day ending iny, which must be why I see Jax tailing me again in my rearview mirror. It’s a given after showing up at his apartment last night, and drunk off my ass, no less. I shouldn’t have gone there. I shouldn’t have even thought about it. But I did. And now I’m paying the price.
What the hell was I thinking?
Clearly, I wasn’t. And that’s the problem.
If I had time to kill, I’d drive around this damn town in circles until we both run out of gas, just to be petty. I’d probably even get a kick out of it. But I don’t have time for that today. I’ve got a flight to catch. And nothing, not a natural disaster, not Armageddon, and certainly notJax, is going to stop me from getting back to my team. Getting back to Arlo.
The small parking lot at the airstrip of Asheville Regional Airport is almost empty as I pull my truck in and park. The warmth of the rising sun burns off the hazy morning mist, casting a soft glow over everything. The world feels quieter at this hour. It’s almost peaceful, but that peace is fleeting, like it always is. The day is waking up, and with it comes everything I’ve been trying to outrun—guilt, memories, the expectation of promises I’ve yet to keep.
I squint against the sun’s sharp light, the glow turning everything into shades of gold and orange. It feels like a reset, like the world is trying to start fresh, even if I’m not.
I step out of the truck, my boots hitting the ground with a dull thud, and grab my ruck, heading into the cool interior of the tiny terminal. It’s not much—just an office attached to the hangar, barely big enough to call a real building. I can already smell the faint scent of jet fuel lingering in the air, mixing with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Rhett works here, but I usually manage to miss him. My flights are either too early or too late to coincide with his hours.
