Page 57 of Jax
Silence again, but now it was gentler. There was something about the way she said it—soft, certain—that made me want to say something I hadn’t meant to share.
“I’ve never had anyone take care of me like that,” I said before I could stop myself.
Bellamy didn’t react with pity. She didn’t soften her tone like I’d just admitted something fragile. She just looked at me with that same steady calm and said, “Then they weren’t worthy of you.”
I stared at her, throat tight.
She leaned back, stretching her arms out over the blanket. “You know what the hardest part of submission is?”
I shook my head.
“Letting yourself want,” she said. “Not needing.Wanting. That’s what terrifies us. Because when you need something, it’s survival. But when youwantsomething? That means you could lose it. That’s where the real vulnerability is.”
I laughed, bitter and automatic. “Yeah, well. Wanting gets you hurt.”
She nodded. “So does holding your breath forever.”
Touché.
I leaned back again, arms folded tightly over my chest. “So you’re telling me if I suddenly woke up tomorrow and decided I wanted to be, I don’t know,tied up and emotionally unpacked like a suitcase, I’d be in good hands here?”
Bellamy’s grin was slow and wicked. “Babe, this house is full of men who wouldworshipthe chance to unwrap you.”
I made a face. “Gross.”
“Accurate.”
“That sounded like a threat.”
She chuckled. “You’re safe here, Stella. Whether you want nothing but coffee and sarcasm, or whether you eventually want someone to press you to a wall and make you forget how to lie to yourself.”
I stared at her. “That was specific.”
“I’m intuitive,” she said with a smirk. “Also, I’ve seen the way you look at Jax.”
I scoffed. “I don’tlookat Jax.”
“You do. Like he’s a puzzle you’re not sure whether you want to solve or set on fire.”
“Okay, that’s fair.”
Bellamy’s smile was brighter now, and something about it made me feel lighter, too. Not unburdened, but a little less alone.
“You’re not broken,” she said, softer now. “You’re just not finished.”
My heart knocked once, hard.
“Jesus,” I muttered, rubbing my chest. “Do you rehearse this stuff?”
She laughed. “Nope. You just bring out my best material.”
I shook my head, grinning in spite of myself. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe, but I’m also a good listener, and I don’t judge.” She said. “Anytime you want to talk, cry, scream, explore, or throw something breakable, I’m here.”
I looked at her for a long moment. And for the first time since I walked into this place, I believed someone meant it.
Bellamy’s words didn’t come with edges. No barbs. Just soft certainty. Like she wasn’t afraid of anything I might say.
