His eyes search mine, filled with doubt and self-loathing. “What if I’m beyond redemption?”
“You’re not,” I say firmly, my heart aching for him. “None of us are perfect, Jax. We’ve all made mistakes. But we can still find a way to be better. To be happy.”
His lips twist into a frown. Then he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. When he backs away, he adds some space between us. He stares at me, his eyes probing, then finally responds, “You really believe that?”
“I do,” I whisper with conviction. “I believe in you.”
He sighs, the tension in his body slowly easing. “I don’tknow what I did to deserve this. To deserve your forgiveness. To deserve you, Lily.”
“Stop worrying about that right now,” I say, my fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. “Just let me be here for you. I want to be here for you. Your focus needs to be on recovery, and then everything else will fall into place after that.”
He studies me for a long moment. Then, tentatively, he leans down, his lips brushing against mine. It’s a kiss filled with questions, unspoken promises, and the fragile hope of something better.
When he ends our kiss, he tugs me into his side, and we lay side by side in silence. It feels like the first step. Like progress, but I know that Jax is barely two days outside of his drug use and there’s a long road ahead of us.
CHAPTER 17
SHARED BURDENS
MARCUS
Timeon The Ranch bends and shifts in strange ways. Some moments feel like they stretch endlessly, especially during Jax’s roughest hours, while others—like the quiet moments stolen with Lily—seem to vanish in the blink of an eye. The Ranch itself is like a song played in a slow, steady rhythm, a backdrop of rolling hills and grazing cattle. But inside the house, our lives are anything but serene. We’re a band trying to find its tempo again after a catastrophic breakdown.
Jax’s roughest detox day begins in the early hours of the morning on our third day, long before the sun rises. I’m startled awake by a crash coming from his room. For a split second, I think maybe he’s fallen, but when I rush to the doorway, it’s worse.
Jax is on his knees beside the bed, his hands gripping the mattress like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the world. His chest heaves with labored breaths, and sweat drenches his hair and back. The lamp on his nightstandlies shattered on the floor, its shards glinting in the dim light.
“Jax,” I say cautiously, stepping into the room.
“Get the hell out!” he snarls, his voice raw and filled with venom. He looks up at me, and his green eyes are bloodshot and glassy.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say firmly, crossing the room to kneel in front of him. “You’re not alone in this.” He isn’t supposed to be alone at all and I scan the room, trying to figure out who was supposed to be in here watching him.
“I didn’t ask for this!” he snaps, his voice breaking. “I didn’t ask for any of you to babysit me like I’m some goddamn child!”
“You didn’t ask for it, but you need it,” Lily’s voice cuts in. She stands in the doorway, her blonde hair still mussed from sleep, but her expression resolute. She moves into the room and kneels beside Jax, her hand gently resting on his shoulder.
He flinches away from her touch at first, but when she doesn’t retreat, he lets her hand stay.
Seconds later, Dylan reappears in the doorway, holding a bloody rag to his left hand. Lily gasps and jumps to her feet, rushing over to him.
“Are you okay?”
He offers a grimace that is supposed to be a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. We just… had an incident.”
“Can I look at it?” Lily asks softly.
My gaze flits between Jax, kneeling on the floor and the direction of his gaze, as he watches Dylan and Lily together. The two of them exit into the hallway, presumably to take care of his hand.
“Why don’t we clean this up and then join everyone for breakfast?” I suggest.
Jax snaps his head toward me like he forgot I was even there. His eyes dart around the room, taking in the shattered glass and scattered mess. “Yeah,” he says slowly, his voice hoarse. “We can do that.”
I crouch to start picking up the shards of glass, but before I can make any progress, Jax starts gagging. I’m on my feet in an instant, pulling him toward the bathroom. The next three hours are nothing short of brutal. He’s hunched over the toilet, his body wracked with violent heaves that leave him shaking and drenched in sweat.
“Don’t let Lily in,” he croaks between bouts of vomiting.
I nod, respecting his wish even as my chest tightens with guilt. Lily knocks on the door every so often, her voice soft and concerned, but I keep her out. “He’s okay,” I tell her each time, though the truth is far from it.
