He answers with a slight frown, caught off guard. “This is Jaxon.”
The voice on the other end? Familiar. Southern drawl. Slight rasp.
“Jaxon, how the hell are you?” It’s one of the partners from the home office.
“I’m doing good, sir. I hope all’s well your way.”
“They are,” the man replies. “In fact, that’s exactly why I’m calling.”
Jaxon leans forward in his chair, unsure where this is headed. “Not sure I follow.”
“Well, last week we got a call. Made its way all the way to my desk. Some attorney from Atlanta—name was Travis—demanded to speak to someone in charge. So I picked up.”
Jaxon’s heart drops. “Sir, I can explain—”
“No need,” the partner interrupts. “Travis told me everything. Told me how he came down to your branch, came at you swinging. And how even after all that, you didn’t press charges. You sat down with him. Talked to him. Heard him out.”
Jaxon stays quiet.
“He said he came looking for someone to blame. And found a man who helped him instead. He called to say thank you—but more than that, he called to tell us what kind of person we had running one of our offices.”
“I appreciate that, sir.”
“I don’t think you understand,” the man continues. “We’ve had our eye on you for a while now. Talked about it internally. Wondered when the right time would be.”
Jaxon straightens, breath caught in his chest.
“That phone call?” the man says. “That sealed it.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the new signage for your building’s already in production. And you’ll be getting it installed in a few days.”
Jaxon blinks. “Wait… what?”
“We’re naming you partner, Jaxon. And I better see your ass in Atlanta next month. We’re throwing you a party. Whole thing’s already in motion.”
Silence stretches across the line.
“Only thing left is for you to accept the title.”
Jaxon finds his voice, but just barely. “Yes, sir. Absolutely.”
“I’ll send the flight details and itinerary by the end of the day. You earned this.”
The line clicks. The dial tone hums.
Jaxon leans back in his chair. Breath shallow. Hands still. A long exhale escapes him before the smallest smile lifts the corner of his mouth.
This is what he’s worked for.
This is what rising from the wreckage feels like.
The Atlanta skyline hadn’t changed—but Jaxon had.
He stood just outside the airport, suitcase in hand, the weight of his suit jacket slung casually over one shoulder. His sunglasses shielded eyes that had seen too much to still be naïve, too much to expect anything but the road ahead. And yet, he couldn’t help but wonder… was she still here?
Claire.
