Page 49 of Coming In Hot
Jax follows me down the long corridor lined with photographs of smiling families having the absolute time of their lives, unlike the residents here. Our heavy boots thudding against the scuffed linoleum is the only sound.
As we enter the dayroom, I spot my mom across the room. Her gaze is fixed out the window, not on the TV. The sunlight streams in, casting a soft glow across her face, but she doesn’t seem to notice it. I wish I had more time to spend here, taking her on walks outside, letting her feel the breeze on her skin, and enjoying the fresh air and the world outside of these sterile walls.
I can’t even remember the last time we did that—just the two of us, laughing without a care in the world.
I swallow the lump in my throat and turn to Jax, who’s trailing behind me at a respectful distance.
As we move toward her, I force a smile on my face, trying to push the overwhelming sadness back. I don’t want Jax to see how much this is affecting me, even though I know he can probably read me like a book. When I’m close enough, my mom blinks a few times and turns her head slowly toward us, her eyes softening when they land on me.
“Ramesses,” she says, her voice raspy from the medication.
“Hey, Mami.”
Her gaze falls on Jax behind me, and her expression turns sharper. “Did you bring my slippers?”
He rushes forward, holding out the gift bag clutched in his hands. “Sure did.” She beams, appearing surprised but satisfied. “You thought I’d forget, didn’t you?” Jax asks, sounding genuinely amused.
My mom takes it from him. She pulls out the soft, fluffy slippers from inside the bag, running her fingers over them with a small hum of approval. “They’ll do. Now, if I can just keep that thieving witch from stealing them again.”
“You want me to bust into her room and steal them back? I’m totally down for a little B&E action.”
I can’t help but laugh softly at the banter between them. It feels so strange, seeing Jax interact with my mom like this. He’s always been more of the stoic, brooding type, but there’s something about him now, in this moment, that feels lighter. He’s not just the guy I’ve been bickering with, the one who pushes my buttons at every turn—he’s also the guy who takes the time to listen to my mom, to make sure she has what she needs.
What could possibly be more attractive?
My mom inspects the slippers one more time before sliding them back into the bag, a satisfied expression settling on her face. “I like them. Good choice, Jax,” she says, giving him a small nod of approval.
Jax seems slightly taken aback by her approval, a soft flush coloring his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck. “Glad you like them,” he says, though his voice carries a hint of awkwardness. He doesn’t feel the slightest guilt over taking credit for my gift, which doesn’t surprise me.
“I’m glad you came,” my mom continues, her voice now softening. “You make him laugh more than I do.”
Her assessment catches me off guard, and my gaze snaps to her, a mixture of surprise and confusion flickering in my chest.Make him laugh?My mom isn’t the type to throw out compliments easily, and hearing her say something like that makes my heart twist in ways I don’t expect.
Before I can say anything, Jax chuckles, that deep, infectious sound that always seems to bring a little warmth to the air. A sound I don’t hear often enough. “I do my best,” he replies, offering her a casual grin.
I stand there, watching them, rubbing at the spot where pressure is building in my chest. This isn’t just about my mom anymore. It’s about Jax, about the way he’s shifting the dynamic between us, how easy he makes it to forget the years of walls I’ve built. And the fact that my mom is seeing this, is seeing him not as a stranger but as someone who might be worth her approval… well, that just complicates things in ways I didn’t expect.
It’s easier to understand thedeep connectionshe spoke of. I thought it was a joke or misunderstanding on her part, but it’s not. The connection is there—it’s palpable. I canfeelit.
I shift uncomfortably, trying to shake off the strange sensation in my chest. I’ve always been the one who’s here for my mom, always the one who’s put in the time, making sure she’s taken care of. And yet, here’s Jax—who’s barely known her a fraction of the time I have—and he’s already slipping into this role with such ease.
My thoughts swirl in a mix of emotions, a cocktail of gratitude and guilt. I wish I could relax, but the change of Jax’s place in my life, of the subtle shifts happening around us—is pressing down on me. I can’t stop thinking about howrightthis feels, even if it’s making me uneasy.
“Mom,” I finally say, trying to pull myself together, “you doing okay?”
She gazes up at me, eyes softening, a small curve tugging at her lips. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” she says, her voice more reassuring than usual. “You don’t need to worry so much.” Her gaze drifts to Jax, and for a moment, I’m certain there’s a quiet approval there. “And I’m glad you brought him with you. He’s a good one.”
He’s a good one.I try not to let it show, but I can feel the heat rising to my face. There’s a pride in her voice that I’m not used to hearing, especially when she’s talking about someone who isn’t me.
Jax, as usual, doesn’t help matters. He tilts his head slightly, smirking as if he knows exactly how much importance her opinion carries. “I try,” he says, that playful gleam back in his eyes.
I choke on the snort I try and swallow back, making my eyes water.Good? Jax? That’s rich. My mom doesn’t know the half of it. Jax is a lot of things. However, good isn’t one of the words I’d use to describe him.
Jax catches my expression and raises an eyebrow, like he’s daring me to challenge her assessment. “What? Iamgood,” he says, his tone mock-serious. He glances over at me, the playful smirk never leaving his face. “In fact, I’m a damn saint. Just ask anyone.”
I clear my throat, shaking my head. “He’s not exactly what you’d call…saintly,” I say, my voice dry. “But he means well. Sort of.”
Jax gives me a pointed look, but I can tell he’s not offended. We’ve been through enough of this banter over the years that nothing really hits anymore.
