Page 58 of Coming In Hot
I nod, trying to shake off the discomfort as I step over the threshold. I’ve been imagining this moment for weeks, but now that I’m here, everything feels... different. The distance between us feels more than just physical.
“I’d ask if you missed me, but I can see you didn’t.”
“You know, I really hate when you show up here all beat to shit.”
I glance down at my nice threads and realize he must be talking about the scratches and bruises on my face. “So you did miss me,” I grin, my mood lifting considerably despite the lingering tension.
Jax rakes his eyes over my face scathingly, his lips curling into a half-amused, half-annoyed smirk. “Miss you? You’re lucky I’m letting you in the door looking like that.”
I chuckle, brushing past him into the living room.
“So, what’s the damage?” he asks, eyeing the bruises on my cheek like he’s mentally tallying them up. “Get in a fight with a bear or something?”
“No, nothing that exciting,” I reply with a wink, trying to keep it light. “Just the usual... You know, escaping a fiery crash, dodging bullets, saving lives. The normal stuff.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s something softer in his gaze now. He steps a little closer, just enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him, and for a second, it almost feels like everything else fades away. That energy between us? It’s still there, scorching and undeniable.
“You always do this,” he mutters, reaching up to gently touch the bruise on my cheek. “Risk your life trying to right the past.”
“It’s not just about the past, Jax. I care about the guys. They’re my team, my brothers. I care about right and wrong. I care about shaping the future for a country divided in conflict.”
“There’s always going to be a country in conflict and a team in need of saving, Pharo. Where does it end? Why’s it always gotta be you?”
My heart skips a beat at his touch, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You’re here,” he agrees, but his voice is tight, like he's holding something back. “For now.”
“So,” I say, clearing my throat and trying to shift the mood, “you gonna offer me a drink or are you just gonna stand there glowering at me like I’m some stray dog you’re thinking about kicking out?”
Jax snorts, shaking his head, but finally breaks the strain with that familiar, sarcastic grin. “Haven’t decided yet.”
Fucker. “Quit being a bitch and offer me a drink.”
“All I’ve got is beer and whiskey. Pick your poison.”
“I’ll take the whiskey.”
Jax grabs the bottle from the cabinet and kicks back on the sofa, not even bothering with glasses. The loveseat has two cushions and is on the smaller side, not exactly built for comfort when you’re sitting so close to someone who feels like he’s simultaneously a thousand miles away and right in front of you. But I make my way over and sink into the space beside him, trying to ignore how my skin seems to buzz with the proximity.
Jax takes a generous pull, then hands the bottle to me without a word. I take a long swig, letting the burn slide down my throat. It feels like we’re on the edge of something I’m not sure I’m ready to face, even though it was my reason for coming here.
The room seems smaller now, the air thicker. Every movement Jax makes, every glance, every shift of his body feels amplified. I take another swallow of whiskey, trying to wash down the nerves rising in my throat. I open my mouth to break the silence, but nothing comes out. Everything I could say feels too loaded, too risky.
Jax doesn’t say anything either. His fingers tap lightly on the bottle, the quiet between us stretching longer than I’m comfortable with.
“So,” I start, my voice a little rougher than I expect. “What have you been up to, aside from looking like you’ve been avoiding daylight since I last saw you?”
He snorts, finally turning his gaze toward me. “Same old, same old. Work. Tinkering. Riding. You know, the usual.”
“Right.” My smile feels as forced as I reply. “I guess some things never change.” Life goes on without me.
“Guess not,” Jax says, but there’s something different in his tone now. It’s quieter, less guarded. Maybe even a little more open.
I shift slightly on the couch, leaning just a bit closer, feeling the heat between us grow with every inch. And yet, I still can’t bring myself to close the gap completely. The pull is there, undeniable. But what if it’s not the right time? What if I’m about to screw up the fragile connection we’ve already rebuilt?
“Glad to be back?” he asks after a few beats of silence. The question feels loaded, more than just casual small talk.
“Yeah. Missed you,” I answer, surprised by how honest the admission feels coming out of my mouth. I glance at him, hoping my voice didn’t give away too much, but Jax doesn’t react. He just takes a sip of whiskey, his jaw tightening slightly.
