Page 34 of You Were Always Mine
‘Drink for that anyway,’ Jax mutters, sliding the bottle towards me. ‘Because you just said more than you should’ve.’
So I drink.
And it burns.
And it tastes like her.
The bar is loud, the smoke thick in the air, but all I hear is Jax’s voice — sharp as a blade. He leans back in his chair, a smirk twisting his mouth, his bottle dangling loose between his fingers.
‘Alright then,’ he says, eyesglinting, too damn knowing. ‘If it’s just brotherly duty, if that’s all it is, then prove it.’
My jaw clenches. ‘Prove what?’
Jax spreads his arms, the showman. ‘Pick a girl. Any girl. That blonde at the bar, the redhead in the booth, hell — Rafe’s already eyeing the brunette by the jukebox. Take your pick. Go put your hands on her right now and show us. Kiss her right here in front of everyone.’
Rafe huffs a laugh — low and dangerous — but he doesn’t stop Jax. He’s watching me too closely.
I take a long drag of smoke, blow it slow into the air like I couldn’t care less, but my blood is molten, my pulse pounding.
‘You’re fucked,’ I mutter, flicking ash into the tray.
‘No, brother.’ Jax leans forward now, grin razor-sharp. ‘You are. Because if Scarlett’s just your little sister, if you don’t see her like that, then this should be easy.’ He tilts his head towards the blonde at the bar and winks. ‘Go on. Prove me wrong.’
My teeth grind. Every muscle in me tightens because I can feel it — his eyes, Rafe’s too — waiting to see if I’ll crack, and the truth is I’d rather put a bullet in Jax than lay a hand on anyone else.
Jax is grinning at me like he knows exactly where to stick the knife. ‘Go on, brother. Pick a girl. Any girl. Prove it’s not about her.’
The whole bar hums with smoke and noise, neon bleeding across faces I don’t care to look at. Every laugh, every pair of painted lips feels wrong. Too soft. Too empty. Not her.
My jaw aches from how tightly I’m clenching it. I swirl the whisky in my glass, watching amber catch the light,trying not to see Scarlett in everything — her mouth, her eyes, the way her laugh gets under my skin.
Jax slaps the table, cocky, waiting. ‘What’s the matter? Can’t choose? Or is it that none of them look like your pretty little sister?’
The glass shatters before I even realise I’ve slammed it down. Rafe swears, jerking back from the spray of liquor and glass, but I don’t look at him. I lock my eyes on Jax.
‘You don’t say her name in here,’ I snarl, voice low, shaking with the violence burning up my throat.
Jax leans in, not afraid — drunk on the game. ‘Why not? Everyone knows you’d burn the world for her. So show us you’re not a liar. Kiss one of them. Or admit what you really are.’
Something in me snaps. I stand so fast the chair crashes backwards, the bar’s chatter dipping, heads turning. My hands are on Jax’s collar before he can blink, slamming him into the wall hard enough for bottles to rattle on the shelves.
‘You want me to prove something?’ My voice is a growl, filthy and raw against his ear. ‘The only thing I’ll prove is how quickly I’ll end you if you put her name in your mouth again.’
Jax laughs, bloody lip curling, because he’s too drunk — too stupid — to know when he’s already dead. And maybe that’s the problem; maybe I need to show him. Maybe I need to make the entire bar see Scarlett isn’t a joke, isn’t a dare. She’s mine.
The door bangs open behind me, night air slamming into my lungs like punishment. I light another cigarette just to keep my hands from shaking — the drag harsh, bitter, burning.
‘Come on, man!’ Jax’s voice follows me out, half-laughing, half-nervous. ‘You know I was joking?—’
His footsteps crunch closer on the pavement. ‘Unless you really do…’ He cuts himself off, swearing low. ‘Fuck. Kai. Really? Your sister?’
I freeze. The smoke burns in my chest, stuck halfway down, and for a second I think I might choke on it.
Jax shifts behind me, the usual cocky edge stripped from his voice. ‘This isn’t one of your sick games, is it? Because the way you went off in there — it wasn’t just protective. That was… something else.’
My jaw locks, every muscle tight, but I don’t turn around. I can feel his eyes on my back — waiting, searching.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Jax mutters, softer now. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’
