Dante was rarely nervous about his training sessions with Jax. Even at the beginning of their time together, when the other man had made it clear that he’d rather be anywhere on Earth than in the gym with Dante, he’d only viewed these sessions with a healthy sort of mild trepidation. He’d had Annie’s blind encouragement and the motivation to try and get on Jax’s good side. Eventually, it had paid off but had just as quickly fallen apart.
He walked down the corridor towards the weight room he’d booked out for them. The strap of his duffel bag dug uncomfortably into his shoulder, the weight of its content banging off his hip with every step he took in a way he’d have been able to ignore had he been in a better mood. Instead, he felt every light thunk of the bag against his upper thigh and grimaced. It was still full of all the hastily packed clothes he’d haphazardly shoved in there before he’d gone to London. He’d have taken them all out before meeting Jax, literally and figuratively lightening his load, but he’d slept through his first alarm and had had no time to do anything more than stuff a clean towel and fresh tank top in there, amongst the balled up socks and creased shirts he’d spent the weekend pitifully crying into.
It would have been easier for him to acknowledge how much he’d fucked over Jax if his visit to Bash had been in any way successful. If anything, he felt like he’d ruined two relationships that he held dear to his heart. One friend who’d needed Dante in ways Dante couldn’t give him and another… Well. Dante wouldn’t do Jax the disservice of calling them friends. He wasn’t sure the other man would react to that favourably right now.
All of this felt terribly self-pitying, Dante could admit. He could argue that he had good intentions, but he wasn’t sure Jax (or even Annie) saw it that way. Sephy had been a saving grace, but the memory of forcing the woman to relive some of her own darkest memories weighed heavily on his heart.
In the end, he was forced to reckon with the reality of letting down the handful of people he was closest to in life. He half wanted to pick up the phone and call Marcus and Viola, just to check if he’d done something to piss them off as well.
He wasn’t used to people being mad at him. It was a horrible feeling. He only had himself to blame though which made him feel worse.
The impact of it all showed quite plainly on his face as he looked at his reflection in the mirror outside the gym. He had prominent bags under his eyes from the red-eye he’d eventually managed to catch to Miami, a day too late, and a five o’clock shadow on his jaw; shaving hadn’t been a priority for him over the course of the weekend. He raked a hand through his hair, noting how limp and flat it looked. Hardly living up to the ‘annoyingly sexy’ label Jax had kindly given him.
With a sigh, he pushed the door to the gym open, surprised to find Jax already there. He quickly glanced at his watch and winced. It was only a few minutes after the hour but given the other man’s uncharitable feelings towards him, he knew that Jax was likely to hold each and every second against him.
“You’re here before me. That’s a first,” Dante commented, dropping his bag on the floor with a dull thud. Out of the two of them, Jax was the one who loved to sleep-in. Normally, Dante had everything set up for their session by the time Jax was roused from his bed. This was the first time he’d ever arrived at the gym before Dante. Hardly a promising start.
“Suppose you wanted to make sure I actually showed up, hm?” he joked feebly, internally wincing. It was hardly a joking matter and he knew that a horribly unimpressed look was due to cross Jax’s otherwise devastatingly handsome features any second now.