Page 26 of Coming In Hot
“But why?” I croak, the question coming out of me before I even realize I’m asking. “Why would he do that?”
Pharo shifts in his seat, his eyes dropping for just a moment before meeting mine again. “Because he couldn’t handle it anymore. The pressure. The responsibility. The risk, the constantfearthat one of us wouldn’t come back. Thathewouldn’t come back. He needed out, but he couldn’t figure out how to say it. So he did the only thing he could—he hurt himself.”
I feel the ground beneath me shift, like the world I thought I understood is crumbling away. Jordan—the guy who never backed down, the guy who jumped into danger without hesitation—was afraid? Afraid enough to sabotage his own body just to get out of it?
I run a hand through my hair, trying to steady myself. “You’re telling me wemissedthat? I wasrightthere with him, and I didn’t see it?”
Pharo’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away. “None of you did, Jax. He was hiding it from us. But I saw it. I saw the way he flinched every time new orders came in. How he started pulling away, isolating himself. He was terrified of what we were becoming, terrified of being that guy who doesn’t come back. He wasn’t built for it anymore.”
The silence between us feels suffocating. Pharo’s voice drips with regret. My mind spins, trying to make sense of it. Jordan—ourJordan—wasn’t the invincible soldier I thought he was. He was just as fragile as the rest of us. Maybe even more so.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “How did we not see it?”
“Because we were too busy thinking we were invincible, too,” Pharo replies. “We couldn’t see it because we didn’t want to. We didn’t want to admit that we were all cracking under the pressure.”
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat growing. The truth stings.Wefailed him. We missed the signs. We ignored the cracks in the armor because we were too busy wearing our own.
“God,” I whisper, the guilt swallowing me whole. “I could’ve done something. I should’ve done something.”
Pharo leans forward, his voice steady. “No, Jax. You couldn’t have. You can’t save everyone. Sometimes, you’re not even enough to save yourself.”
That hits harder than anything else he’s said. I drop my eyes, unable to meet his eyes anymore. He’s right. We can’t fix everything. But I’ll never stop wishing I had done something.
Brewer coughs to clear his throat, breaking the heavy silence that’s settled between us. His gaze shifts between Pharo and me, and for the first time, I notice a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
“Alright,” he says, his voice calm but firm, “we’ve talked about the past, about the shit we missed. I recommend you both keep talking, keep listening, and definitely keep coming back to see me.”
I stare at him, still processing everything that’s been said. It feels like the ground has shifted beneath my feet, and I don’t know how to stand anymore. How do you move forward from something like this? How do you live with the fact that you were too blind to see the cracks in your brother's armor?
Brewer leans forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, the importance of this conversation blanketing us. “Jax, Pharo, we all have our demons. We all have things we could’ve done differently. But the truth is, none of us has the luxury of turning back the clock. We have to figure out how to handle our past so we can live with the present.”
Pharo nods slightly, but his expression is unreadable. He’s probably thinking the same thing I am:What next?
“Pharo,” Brewer continues, his voice soft but unwavering, “as the leader, I can’t imagine the burden this is on you, but I need to clarify this isn’t your fault. This guilt is paralyzing and incapacitating if you let it weigh you down. And Jax,” he turns his gaze to me, “I’m proud of you for opening up. There’s no judgment here. Just understanding. How do we get the two of you on a path of healing that’s acceptable for both of you? You both have a chance to rebuild, to move past this... if you let yourselves.”
I clench my jaw, his advice rattling around in my skull. I don’t know how to let go. How do you forgive yourself when you failed someone you loved?
How do you move on when the past is a constant reminder of your shortcomings?
“Rebuilding, huh?” I mutter, the sarcasm creeping into my voice despite myself. “Sounds easy enough.”
“It’s not easy,” Brewer admits, his gaze softening. “But it’s necessary. For both of you.”
The impact settles in, deeper than any of the physical burdens I’ve carried. There’s no way to fix the past, but maybe... just maybe, we can still have a future. If we’re willing to try.
I glance at Pharo, and for the first time in a long while, I don’t feel the anger simmering beneath the surface. There’s something different in his eyes, too—something close to resignation, but maybe, just maybe, there’s a hint of hope there as well.
It’s a start.
CHAPTER10
PHARO
When I exitBrewer’s office, I feel as if I’ve left behind a thousand-pound brick I’ve been carrying on my shoulders for years. I feel lighter, freer. I didn’t even realize how familiar the burden had become, so comfortable that I often forgot it was there. My guilt had woven itself into the fabric of who I was, tangled up in every decision, every action, every regret. But Jax severed the gnawing heaviness from my soul with his apology, and for the first time in years, I don’t feel smothered by it anymore.
I hope I did the same for him. Nobody deserves to carry around something that heavy.
I don’t even feel like myself as I start down the long corridor toward the gym. BALLS has state-of-the-art equipment, and although I have some workout gear at home, I prefer exercising here. It’s the kind of place where I can sweat out my frustrations, the grind of the weights and machines letting me put my mind on autopilot.
