Page 78 of Coming In Hot
We finish the song in total silence—no applause, no commentary. Just that weird stillness that happens when everyone’s pretending not to feel something.
Jax sets the mic down gently and breaks the silence. “I’d like to formally request a different punishment next time.”
McCormick blinks. “What the hell could topthat?”
Jax mutters, “Public execution would be less painful.”
But his hand brushes mine as we walk off the makeshift stage. And he doesn’t pull away. We take our seats at the table, and I hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable ribbing.
The Bitches don’t disappoint.
“Pretty sure I’m pregnant now,” Brewer says, deadpan. “Thanks for that.”
Laughter erupts. Loud, chaotic,exactlywhat Jax and I deserve.
“Y’all good now?” Riggs asks, one brow raised like he’s only half-joking. “Or do we need to set up a second duet?”
“Can we not?” Jax mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. He’s blushing.Blushing.That glitter heart on his chest sparkles.
I feel like we’re walking Hallmark cards or some shit.
“You hit that high note like you meant it,” McCormick says, pretending to wipe a tear. “So raw. So tender.”
“You guys want a moment alone?” West asks, smirking. “We can step outside. Let you work through the rest of that tension.”
Jax looks like he’s contemplating a second fight just to reset the energy.
I nudge him with my elbow. “Admit it. You liked it.”
“I liked that it’s over.”
“You sure?” I grin. “Because I’m pretty sure you were about to cry when I sang to you.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was trying not to laugh.”
“Uh-huh.” Leaning in close, I whisper just loud enough for his ears only, “Later tonight, I’ll give you a private encore, JJ.”
Jax spits out his mouthful of soda, spraying Brewer’s shirt. But there’s a faint blush tinting his cheeks, just above his scruff. And despite the ribbing, the humiliation, the glitter slowly coating my shirt…
It kind of feels like a win.
CHAPTER27
PHARO
After the chaosof the tavern, the silence of my home makes our world feel smaller, like we’re the only two people who exist.
Jax seems uncomfortable. The way he stands there, shoulders stiff, hands shoved in his pockets, like he’s unsure if he should even be here—it's a sharp contrast to how he normally carries himself. He's always been so confident in his own skin, in control of every situation. But here, it feels like he's out of his element.
He hasn’t spent much time here, and we were always at odds. Our history is littered with sharp jabs and conflicting energies, but it’s different tonight. He’s... here, and I want him to feel welcome. I want him to feel like he belongs here, with me. The desire to pull him into my arms, to ease the tension from his body, almost overwhelms me. “I don’t bite,” I say, my tone softer than I meant.
“How disappointing,” Jax protests, his voice carrying that familiar teasing edge, though there's something more vulnerable behind it. He takes a deep breath and blows it out, his shoulders dropping an inch or two, as if the anxiety that’s been holding him tight is starting to loosen.
I reach for him, my fingers grazing the cool leather of his jacket, pulling it off his shoulders with a deliberate slowness. He doesn’t stop me, doesn’t pull away, so I take it as an invitation. The jacket slides from his arms, leaving him a little more exposed. I set it over the back of my couch, then tug off his beanie, letting the soft fabric slip through my fingers. The glittery pin is next. Jax smiles gratefully, glad to be rid of it.
“I didn’t realize pink was your color.” My lips tilt playfully. “If I ever learn to knit, I’ll make you a pink beanie.”
“Please, God, no. Pink? I told you, I’m not pretty, I’m rugged. It’d probably have more holes than a lace doily.”
