STAND UP FOR YOURSELF. As soon as someone says something you find offensive, dead it right there. Do not let anyone speak negative things over you and your life. EVER.
pairing: jax teller x black!reader | warning: not much in this chapter tbh
sum: you’re back in charming. perfect timing for a storm is brewing. jax teller has an unquenchable thirst for vengeance.
chapter 02.
The moment he comes to Jax knows he has overslept.
The sun was bright, slowly creeping toward the center of the sky. Its rays slipped through the thin curtains casting a glow across the bedroom.
Despite resting for ten hours, Jax’s body remains bogged by exhaustion. Ten hours paled to the amount of sleep needed for his body to replenish the remaining hours of his sleep deficit. His mind attempts to drift to the cellphone across the room. His slumber meant there were unanswered calls and messages waiting for his attention. Jax nuzzles his face back into the inviting warmth of his pillow.
The rise and fall of his pillow come in a steady rhythm, one that could easily lull him back to sleep.
His eyes open to find you asleep. Your bodies had remained close throughout the night. In the center of the bed, you had somehow managed not to be awoken by the sunlight filling the room.
Jax blinks, part of him thinking you would be gone once the action was over. The last few days had passed in an endless blur of moments. He wouldn’t be surprised if the image of you were an evil illusion summoned by his sleep-deprived senses.
Now he is awake, Jax wonders how the news of Opie’s passing reached you. When he was released, his first instinct was to call you. Not Gemma, but you.
He would have, but he knew the number he’d spent years committing to memory was disconnected. The pain he’d felt deep within his chest when he’d first dialed the number to no avail was one he’d never experienced. Its initial impact was sharp, coming as fast as it left. Soon, the sharp pain subsided, melting into an unnatural, soft dull pain that lingered for days. The ache was temporarily forgotten as Jax tackled the fires of his day. It returned to the front of his mind when he had a moment of downtime.
It took him nearly a month after your departure to learn the meaning of the pain resonating in his chest. It was the soft and slow tearing of his heart.
He’d spent months angry at you, the bitter hatred of your decision to sever all ties with him spilling into every aspect of his life. His temper nipped short, leading to Jax butting heads with everyone who stepped foot in his direction. As the exhaustion of being angry wore off, he started the chase of distraction.
Days packed full of tasks for him to complete. The list ran from the rising to the setting of the sun. The moment the list was complete, Jax was rewarded with a night of decadence. A dangerous cocktail of alcohol and heated moments with Lisa.
The vicious cycle was endless, but it kept Jax distracted from the dull pain in his chest.
When his eyes return to your face, Jax finds your gaze focused on him.
“Mornin',” he whispered softly.
“You look like shit,” you manage.
The soft smile your words sparks brings your touch to the warmth of his cheek.
“Trust me, I feel like it.”
You could echo the sentiment, but your voice is trapped in your throat. The soft smile on Jax's lips had faded slowly, his expression inscrutable. His eyes met yours before moving down to your lips.
His gaze pinned you in place, the air leaving your lungs as his touch grazed your cheek. It was a look you had encountered a handful of times in his presence. Each time, Jax had mustered enough willpower to suppress it. As his thumb dragged over your bottom lip, you realized he had no intention of pulling away.
Before he could persuade himself it was a terrible idea, Jax lowered his head and pressed his lips to yours.
They were gone as fast as they had come. The initial action is simple testing of the waters.
When they returned, the kiss was gentle and hard at once. Jax's beard was coarse as it scraped against your skin, his lips soft as they moved against yours.
Jax’s body relaxed, your arms snaking around the back of his neck, his weight shifting to press you into the mattress. Your fingers carded through his soft locks urging his tongue to part your lips. The kiss melted into a slow pace, Jax’s expert exploration of your mouth fogging your mind. You could only think of how to keep his lips on yours.
This was a slippery slope, but neither of you could pull away. Your kisses were different than any he’s previously shared. Jax’s most intimate moments panned out like every moment in his life. Rough, heated, and fast. They satisfied his need for a temporary high yet always left him wanting more.
Your kisses were heartfelt, your touch inviting as it drifted down his spine. The combination mysteriously seized control of his mind. It commanded his body to slow down. It allowed him to savor the softness of your lips, the warmth of your skin under his touch. The way your body responded to his, your hips dangerously arching up to meet his.
The ringing of his phone seemed to break Jax from your spell.
You both paused, panting and breathless, listening to the chime of his phone echo off the walls of the quiet house. Jax’s heart pounded against his ribs, yours beating in tandem.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Jax’s words trail off as his eyes pass over your parted lips.
What was the point of lying?
He had meant to kiss you. Hell he would have done more than that if he hadn’t been interrupted.
“It’s okay.”
You push yourself up, thankful for the distance it forces Jax to put between the two of you.
With fresh air in your lungs, the fog in your mind quickly recedes. An unsettling twinge of guilt tightens your stomach as Jax’s eyes meet yours.
A slippery slope.
A single kiss had tipped the scales. It would take a far more painful act to reset the balance.
You cannot stay here.
The reminder pushes you off the bed.
Thankfully, the ringer doesn’t relent. The moment it dies, the sound returns with a second call. Jax’s eyes track your movements, his silence prompting you to glance in his direction.
“You should get that. I’m going to shower.”
--
Not tonight.
Your foolish words echo through your mind as you stare down the Reaper grinning at you.
It looks like you’re a bit rusty, sweetheart. You foolishly allowed me to rest.
The slip of your tongue hadn’t registered until nearly an hour after you left Jax alone in his bed.
Not tonight.
The limitation on his retaliation was up. The sun was now high in the sky, blazing down on the crowded parking lot of the Teller-Morrow automotive repair shop.
The patched members of SAMCRO had filed outside with the anticipated arrival of their president. Too intoxicated the night before, Jax had allowed you to drive him home. Which resulted in you having to give him a ride back. Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. But, today, you wish Jax didn’t require your help.
He was across the parking lot, back to you as he spoke to a man you didn’t recognize. Despite the distance between the two of you, you could still feel the weight of his body against yours. The warmth of his mouth against yours, and how easily it coaxed you to cross a line you’d spent years avoiding.
“What’s troubling your mind, sweetheart?”
You find Bobby’s eyes on you. Rubbing a cloth against his glasses, he awaits your response.
You nod in the direction of Jax, your gaze returning to the man he speaks to. Arms crossed over his chest, he rests against the black SUV behind him.
“Who’s Jax talking to?”
“Nero,” Bobby explains. “He’s helping us out with something.”
“Something?” You echo, your brow arched in amusement as Bobby meets your gaze. The action pulls a chuckle from the older man. “Am I better off not knowing?”
“Depends,” he shrugs, eyes watching as your attention returns to Jax. “On how good you were at comforting Jax last night. Don't want to bring out your jealous side.”
Your eyes roll at the implication.
“I got him to sleep,” you sigh. “Something none of you knuckleheads bothered to do.”
Bobby releases a chuckle, unconvinced. “The kid’s stubborn, same as you.”
“How were things with him before…”
Bobby remains silent as he struggles to find words, to sum up, the events that have occurred in your absence.
“Jax has been preparing for the gavel since he was born,” his eyes take in the crowded lot. “But I don’t you can ever really prepare for it, legacy or not. He’s been trying to steer us in the right direction, but…”
With listening ears nearby, you watch Bobby’s brows rise in suggestion. You don’t need him to complete his statement.
You noticed Clay’s absence the moment you arrived. Although you were glad he wasn’t around to add more to his stepson’s plate, you knew Clay’s absence still weighed heavy on Jax’s mind.
Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
With Clay out of sight, Jax wasn’t able to see what he was plotting.
As if sensing your thoughts, Clay steps out of the clubhouse.
“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”
Your words come out low enough to only be heard by Bobby, but Clay’s gaze scans the crowded lot before settling on you.
He’s visibly aged since your last sighting of the former president. The tubes tucked into his nostrils snaked down his chest to the oxygen tank in his left hand. He looked meek and surely incapable of riding his bike out with the rest of the club. His expression remained unreadable as you lifted your hand offering him a wave.
“I don’t imagine he’s been supporting Jax in his new role?”
With a slight shake of his head, Bobby wraps his arm around your shoulder. Giving you a gentle squeeze, he offers you a warm smile as your head briefly rests against him.
“It’s good to have you back.”
Soon you’re left alone, nervous energy radiating through your body as Jax makes his way toward you.
Despite the feeling, you cannot deny him a smile as Jax comes to a stop before you. The smile on his face is one you’d spent years missing. Paired with the bright blue eyes searching your expression, you almost forget about the circumstances surrounding your arrival the night before.
Not tonight.
You blink, eyes dropping from his to your worn sneakers.
“Thanks for last night,” he says, his fingers finding yours.
Your eyes focus on his split knuckles. Your thumb gingerly passes over the damaged skin.
“And this morning.”
The second half of his statement comes as your eyes meet his.
“I just want you to be okay.”
It’s not a lie. You’ve never meant anything as much as the words you’ve just spoken. The problem is, you know placating Jax’s current state would only lead to a more difficult departure.
“It feels that way when you’re here.” The softly uttered admission is not meant for your ears.
Jax reaches into the chest pocket of his kutte. He retrieves a familiar scratched eight ball. The same keychain you’d passed to him the last time you said goodbye in the same spot years before. The key he’d forged for you still sits on the ring.
His throat clears as your fingers brush his in retrieval of the key. “You can uh–stay with me as long as you’re here.”
You meet his gaze. His eyes are curious. His invitation is a shoddy attempt at asking the question his lips can’t utter.
How long will you stay?
“Thank you.”
You house the keychain in your front pocket, a silence falling over the two of you.
You can feel her gaze before you spot her. It sears into your skin as your fingers remain interlaced with Jax’s.
Jax follows your gaze, a deep breath filling his lungs as he glimpses Gemma's narrowed eyes. The corner of his lips tugs into a smile as he shifts, blocking you from her sight.
“Play nice,” he sighs. The twinkle of amusement in his eyes relaxes your tense grip on his fingers. “The last thing I need is to break up a fight between you two.”
“I’ll play nice if she does.” Your matter-of-a-fact tone morphs his smile into a grin.
He knew your words rang true. He never dreamt he’d witness a woman who could go toe to toe with his mother until he met you.
The warmth of his hands against your cheeks forces your gaze to meet his. You make a point of allowing your eyes to roll as you huff a “fine.”
“I’m only doing it because you asked,” you mumble.
You can feel your body relax as his soft chuckle fills your ears. Your eyes drift shut as his lips press against your forehead. A parting gift he’d given you for as long as you can remember.
“I gotta go,” Jax mumbles. Despite the admission, you both remain where you stand.
Your lips meet his halfway. The featherlight kiss drew his hands down your spine. Pulling you closer, he deepens the kiss as you relax against his chest.
“Be safe, please.”
Jax’s response to your request comes in a gentle squeeze of your waist. He slips his sunglasses over his eyes before starting toward his bike.
Your mind drives away with Jax as he disappears through the parking lot gates. The distraction allows Gemma to settle alongside you, her voice causing you to jump.
“Gotta admit, I’m surprised you lasted the night.” Your eyes remain on the gates, but Gemma can easily read the tightening of your stance. Her shade-covered eyes rake down your entire frame. “Thought you’d vanish before the sunrise. Isn’t that more your style?”
The breath you take comes out softer than you expect. The smile you’ve fixed on your face instantly forces your shoulders to relax.
“Nice to see you haven’t changed, Gem.”
Gemma lets out a dry laugh as you face her. Instead of matching your words with a snide remark, she nods over her shoulder.
“It's too hot to do this out here,” she sighs, her hand raising to fan her face. “Let’s go in.”
You follow Gemma across the lot towards her office.
The cramped room welcomes you with the forgiving breeze of AC. You sink into the seat opposite hers, eyes passing over the familiar walls. Not much has changed. Her desk is still cluttered, stacked high with files and receipts. The only additions you can easily find are the updated photos tacked against the wall.
A soft smile finds your lips as you observe a photo of Jax.
He sits on his Harley, his son seated in front of him wore his helmet. Older than your last encounter, Abel wears a smile that matches his father's.
“You must have really missed it here.”
Your brow arches, gaze leaving the photo to find Gemma relaxed in her chair. She takes a drag of her cigarette before pointing the lit tip toward you.
“You came running back the second you got a chance.”
“I never missed this place. It’s full of leeches that suck you dry.” Gemma scoffs as your eyes linger on her. “I did miss the weather. Winters in New York are too cold for my taste.”
Gemma’s brow lifts at the admission. “Thought you’d be used to it by now.”
“Why?”
“Jax mentioned that’s where you’re from.”
“Not originally. My mom and I moved there when I was four.”
“What about your dad?”
You shrug.
Breaching the topic of family history is never something you enjoy. Let alone with Gemma on the receiving end. Although you had lived in Charming for five years, Gemma can admit she barely knows much about you.
You had never taken a liking to her. Which was fine for her, Gemma never liked you. She watched you arrive, a stranger to the ways of her lifestyle, but you somehow easily fit in. The moment her son laid eyes on you, Jax was incapable of escaping you. The hold you had over her son, Gemma couldn’t comprehend.
Five years, and not once did you allow Jax to cross the line of friendship. That’s why he couldn't get rid of Lisa. As long as the line remained uncrossed, Lisa believed there was hope.
You knew why Gemma didn’t like you. She feared the influence you had over her son, even if you didn’t recognize the full extent of it.
Lisa thought the way to Jax’s heart was sex. She was naive to believe her tactics would work. No matter how powerful, time and time again, men have fallen victim to the lure of a woman’s touch. Men, much more powerful than Jax Teller, had lost their families and fortunes to a woman able to get them in bed. That’s why Gemma permitted Lisa to stay around. Lisa was incapable of seeing the bigger picture, and that’s how Gemma wanted things to stay.
A woman blinded by the power and money she believed Jax possessed would never think to persuade him to desert it.
A woman who could see through the allure and convince Jax to do the same, was dangerous. That is why her comment comes out with a laugh.
“Lemme guess, your daddy’s locked up somewhere. Serving life for some crime he didn’t commit?”
“Might as well be,” you watch her smile dim as you ignore the bait. “He hasn’t laid eyes on me since I was born.”
A silence falls over the office as Gemma’s eyes study you. If you’re irritated by her previous statement, you show no sign.
“Well, you’re doing pretty good without him from what I hear.”
“And what have you heard?”
“You got a good-paying job waiting for you back in New York.” Tapping her cigarette against the rim of the ashtray, she meets your gaze. “How much time they give you to come here?”
You smile at her question.
Classic Gemma.
Skillfully distracting her prey before hooking them with unsuspecting bait. Only, you’ve been in the ring with her before.
“I took a week off.”
Leaning forward, she crushes her cigarette against the bottom of the ashtray.
“Well, since you’re gonna be here a while I got something for you–”
“I don’t need any favors, Gemma.”
Like many things in Charming, favors from Gemma Teller-Morrow came with strings attached.
“It’s not a favor, sweetheart.” Gemma’s eyes roll. “And it’s not from me.”
You watch her stand. She picks a key up from the board hanging behind her desk. Turning to face you she weighs it in her palm, her eyes taking in your current state of confusion.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she steps around the desk walking to the door. “We can finally get this hunk of trash out of the garage. It’s taking up space for potential customers.”
The “hunk of trash” Gemma referred to sits at the center of the garage. The red 1965 Ford Mustang is a sight for sore eyes. It was the last thing tying you to the father you couldn’t remember. Left with your mother, the car was the only thing she had bothered to keep that came from the man who disappeared faster than the ink could dry on your birth certificate.
“If it were up to me, I would have had it crushed at the junkyard when you left,” Gemma says, eyes tracking your movements as you step into the garage for a closer look. “But ya know Jax. He made sure the prospect kept it in pristine condition in case you ever came back.”
“It’s a good thing he doesn’t take after you.”
“You’re right,” Gemma’s nose scrunches at the comment. “Jackson has always taken after his father. Right down to the bleeding heart. That’s what got him killed.”
You jump, managing to catch the keys poorly cast in your direction.
“Phil.” Gemma waves the prospect over. “Follow her, so she can return her rental. Finally, give us a reason to get her car outta here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
"For someone who called me here, you sure delivered an icy welcome." Your comment stops Gemma in her tracks.
Her dark eyes narrow as she takes in your expectant expression. Your words may have stopped short, but the unspoken question is loud and clear.
Why the hell did you call me here?
"See you when you get back."
The prospect watches your eyes follow Gemma out of the garage. He offers you a warm smile as your eyes drift to him.
“So you’re the mystery owner,” he says, hand running over the hood. “Jax’s been gatekeeping this one.”
Your brow arches prompting him to elaborate.
“Everyone who sees this car asks to buy it,” he chuckles. “Just last week, some suit came through and offered Jax 60k, cash if he was willing to part ways with it. Gem was pissed when he said no.”
A smile spread across your lips at the thought of Jax resisting Gemma throwing a fit.
“I’m Phil.” He offers you his hand.
You drop the key in Phil’s hand before starting toward the garage’s entrance.
“Y/N. You can follow me.”
__
It's not up for discussion, Jackson.
150 kilos. Three weeks.
Damon Pope's voices echoes through his mind as Jax parks before the clubhouse.
His latest meeting with the kingpin was proving to be problematic.
150 kilos. Three weeks.
Jax had difficulty moving fifty kilos to meet Pope's last deadline. He cannot fathom how the kingpin expected him to move more than double that in the same length of time. Let alone convince the club to assist in the matter.
Jax wasn't naive--his table was divided. A divided table can lead to a king's downfall. Clay was a living testament.
Since the meeting, Jax had connected with the Mayan president. Alvarez hadn't bothered to ask if Jax was okay.
"Sorry about your friend, hermano," he'd sighed as he'd answered Jax's call.
The conversation delegated a meet-up for the two MCs. Alvarez knew better than most that the responsibilities of a king did not stop for a loss.
Even if Jax could secure help from the Mayans, it was still too much product.
Fuck.
"So, the rumors are true." The smile on Eli's face stretched into a grin as he watched Jax's pace stall. Damn. He loved catching the SAMCRO leader off guard. "Your girlfriend's back in town."
Jax lifts an unlit cigarette to his lips, eyes taking in the Lieutenant casually resting against the hood of your Mustang. He pauses to light it.
"She's not my girlfriend."
"Right." Eli slowly drug out the word, his eyes taking in Jax's current state.
Since their last meeting, Jax had earned himself new bruises.
Jax allows the smoke to leave his lungs before raising his question.
"Is there a reason you're here?" It's a genuine question. What little patience Jax had was threatening to run thin as he took in Eli's smile.
A dry laugh escapes Eli's mouth, the sound tightening Jax's jaw.
Shrugging off the car, he invades the President's space, forcing him to meet his gaze.
"I keep trying to figure out how the fuck you manage to squirm outta every cage I manage to put you in," Eli's growled. "That murder charge was airtight."
"Clearly," Jax huffs. "It wasn't."
Dropping it to the ground, Jax ground the cigarette with his shoe.
"Look, man. If you came to ask how I got out, I can cut this enlightening conversation short. I don't know any more than you do." Jax allowed Eli's fiery eyes to search his.
All the Lieutenant found was two pools of cool blue. The tone of Jax's voice would have convinced most. Eli, however, knew Jax was a master of gatekeeping secrets.
"Now, I gotta go," lighting patting the man's chest, Jax ignored the gritting of Eli's teeth. "I'm sure you're aware, we both have jobs to do. Last time I checked, my taxes aren't paying for you to sit on your ass in my shop's lot."
Eli reacts quicker than Jax. His grip caught Jax's arm, bruisingly pressing into his skin, keeping him in place.
He felt Jax's body change in a matter of half a second. The calm, relaxed posture tensed as Eli's grip tightened. Jax's rigid stance paled in comparison to the frigid icy blue gaze that passed over Eli's face before lowering to his grip.
"There's the man I've been hearing about," Eli chuckled, his smile stretching as Jax's jaw locked into place. He tightened his grip, the slight flinch of Jax's left eye the only sign the pain had registered. "Thought you'd let Pope scare it outta ya."
"I suggest you move your hand," Jax's voice came out low and level, the threat pooling in his eyes loosening Eli's grip.
Eli's touch falls away, the pounding of the blood rushing in Jax's ears prompting Jax to take a step forward. His fight instinct had flipped on as quick as a switch. Jax catches sight of the panic that briefly flashes in the Lieutenant's eyes, Eli's right hand instinctively moving to the holster on his hip.
The pain registering against his right palm pulls Jax's gaze from Eli's holster. Relaxing his clenched fist, Jax forces a harsh breath from his lungs.
"Unless you plan on leaving your condolences, I suggest you get the fuck out of here, Eli," Jax growled.
He didn't wait for a response. Neither man can comprehend what force pulled Jax back. It guided him across the lot towards the clubhouse, prompting Jax to back down from a fight they both knew his rage would easily allow him to win.
"I'll admit I took you for a lot of things, Teller, but not the type of man that would blatantly disrespect Opie by playing nice with the man responsible for his death?"
Eli's words echoed across the empty lot.
They halt Jax's movements, forcing him to stop just shy of the door. A long second passes, Jax's fists clenching.
Eli waits, ready to receive Jax's backlash. He just needed verbal confirmation. A verbal confirmation of the relationship between the Oakland kingpin and SAMCRO.
But Eli's request was denied as Jax yanked the door open before disappearing inside.
--
You pass Phil another beer, watching as he slides it into the fridge. Phil is behind the bar restocking it in preparation for the meeting Jax had called.
Although most members of SAMCRO had filed through the door an hour ago, you had yet to see Jax. To pass the time, you had busied yourself with helping Phil complete small tasks around the clubhouse.
The prospect seemed to be thankful for your company. He quickly found what Jax liked about you. You were easy to talk to.
Your eyes pass over the crowded room. "So…any idea what this meeting is about?"
Phil's eyes briefly meet yours before returning to the beer you offer him. His voice lowers, prompting you to lean across the bar to hear.
"All I know is…there’s a big shipment the guys gotta vote on today."
"That explains why Jax is tense."
"Everyone is," Phil admits. "Pope is offering the club a lot of money if Jax can pull it off."
Your muscles tense. A cold shiver runs down your spine.
"Pope?"
"Damon Pope, some big hitter from Oakland—"
Phil tenses. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see Jax stalking through the door.
The laughter and conversations quickly die down as the President's return registers.
You watch as Lisa instantly perks up, her posture straightening as Jax's eyes drift to her. Seated at the opposite end of the bar, she has spent the last hour shooting daggers at you. The beer in her hand was nearly empty. She had tried to pass the time by flirting with Frankie Diamonds.
It didn't take more than a single look over for you to register how tight Jax was wound.
His eyes follow Lisa's gaze to you. His brow arches as his eyes meet yours.
“Your guard dogs are extra feisty today,” you note as he stops beside you.
"Can’t do much about that, darling," he sighs, reaching over the bar for a beer. “Not trying to get bit today.”
He glances over at you, surprised by your lack of comment. He takes a sip of his beer before settling on the stool next to yours. He doesn’t object as you take the bottle to do the same.
“Jax–”
“I’m good.” His response is automatic. He’s repeated it a handful of times today. Each time he said it, he believed it would move him one step closer to it becoming true.
“That’s…good,” your brow furrows, eyes watching as he slowly turns the ring on his left hand. “But that’s not what I was going to ask.”
Jax’s eyes lift to find yours focused on the bottle in your hand.
“Since when are you working with Damon Pope?”
To no surprise, your question is met with silence.
In all your years as friends, you had never desired to learn the details of the club’s business. Jax was thankful for your desire. It made it easier for him to filter out the bullshit in your presence.
Jax's brow raises as he accepts the bottle from you. “How’d you hear about that?”
It is your turn to be shocked by the presented question.
You hadn’t expected him to respond, let alone not attempt to deny your words. Instead, of deflecting the question, Jax had taken it head on. The look of confusion on his face causes you to swallow.
“Does it really matter?” You ask, suddenly wary his question may be an act of avoidance.
Jax’s jaw tightens his eyes slowly passing over the room. He releases his breath as his gaze lands on Phil. The prospect trying his best to avoid Jax’s gaze as he ferociously scrubbed a clean table with a rag.
“It does matter,” Jax’s gaze remains on Phil. “The club’s not advertising that information yet. We still got shit to work out—“
His eyes glance in your direction, his words stopping short. He knows he’s already said enough by confirming your suspicion.
“I know it’s not—“
“Your place to speak on?”
Jax watches you recoil at his harshly spoken words. The sight was one he’d hoped to never see from you again.
"Shit. I didn’t mean that.”
He sighs, hand running down his face. His eyes gripped shut. He tried his best to force down the anger still bubbling from his encounter with Eli. Lifting the bottle to his lips, how downed the chilled liquid to the last drop.
His tired eyes lifts to meet your gaze. When he speaks this time, his voice is softer.
“It’s just…I’ve been hearing everyone’s opinion on this all morning.”
“It’s a bad idea to work with him, Jackson.”
The conviction in your voice gives Jax pause. His brow furrows.
“What do you know about him?”
--
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