Page 79 of Jax
Sully, unfazed, pulled his marshmallow from the flames and presented it to Maddy like a gold medal. “To the queen of chaos,” he said solemnly.
Maddy stood like a goddess at a sacrificial altar, dragging a streak of melted chocolate down her throat while locking eyes with Niko. No smile. No blink. Just slow finger to mouth, all sin and vacation.
“You have a napkin,” Niko muttered.
Maddy licked fluff from her wrist. “I have priorities.”
Carrick, seated behind Bellamy with a stick and no control over anything, pointed at Maddy’s neck. “If she attracts ants again, I’m not evacuating the house.”
Bellamy, eyes locked on her second flaming marshmallow, didn’t flinch. “Speak for yourself. I’ll burn the house down.”
Deacon skewered three marshmallows with mechanical grace. His gaze drifted toward the frog still perched on a stone. “Chauncey demands tribute.”
The fire popped. Someone coughed. Maddy blinked.
“…Okay,” she said, slow and incredulous. “That one got me.”
Niko turned his head toward Carrick. “You ever consider that Deacon might be from a monastery somewhere? Like, deep mountain upbringing, vow of silence, only speaks when it’s uncomfortably profound?”
Carrick rubbed a hand over his face. “He certainly communicates best through violence and sarcasm.”
“Same,” Maddy said brightly. “But therapy should help.”
Sully tossed a marshmallow at her like it was a dodgeball. “Eat. Before you seduce another man with cocoa byproduct.”
She caught it in her mouth like a trained seal. “You’re just mad my marshmallows get more action than yours.”
“My marshmallows have honor,” Sully said, scandalized.
“Your marshmallows are virgins,” Bellamy said flatly, still torching hers like she was roasting the last hope of an enemy.
Laughter broke out of me again, sharper, fuller this time, rising from a place I hadn’t felt in days. I let it out and didn’t bury it, not this time. And Jax turned toward me like that sound had realigned his entire axis.
He looked at me like I was the best thing he’d ever heard. He didn’t speak, just handed me a graham cracker with chocolate already placed. No charm. No push. Just quiet, infuriating patience.
I took it, bit in. Chocolate melted across my fingertip, and I licked it away, slow and unhurried, because, for the first time in too long, I actually wanted to savor something. Jax watched, his gaze trailing from my mouth to my eyes and back again, the firelight turning him into something golden and dangerous.
“I thought I was the one who liked to play with fire,” I murmured.
His smile barely shifted. “Guess we’re both a little combustible.”
I didn’t answer aloud. Just met his eyes and let the silence do its job. He understood. Something in his expression softened, and I felt the weightless, startling click of being seen.
Music floated from someone’s phone. Maddy sang. Sully joined in with harmonies thatsometimesfit. I leaned back and let the fire warm my toes, the scent of marshmallow smoke and laughter curling around me like safety.
I wasn’t okay. But I was warm. I was here. And maybe that was enough.
And Jax, he just sat beside me. Close enough to notice, never close enough to demand. A presence, not a pull.
We stayed like that, shoulder to shoulder, breaths syncing with no effort at all, as though our bodies had struck a truce our minds hadn’t caught up to. Around us, the world turned in slow spirals of laughter and low music, soft chaos that only exists when people feel safe enough to let go.
Eventually, Jax leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the fire. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”
I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. But the words wrapped through my ribs like wire—sharp, fragile, and real.
“I’m not frozen,” I said. My voice was low, but sure.
“No,” he said. “You’re molten. Just buried deep.”
