She keeps her hands tightly gripped on the wheel. "It means that whenever anything gets tough, you run or you don't talk about it. You hide from it."
I grunt. "Where's this coming from?"
She huffs. "Really?"
"I'm not looking to fight, Willow. Let's not talk right now," I assert, leaning back in my seat and tipping my cowboy hat over my face.
"Freaking typical," she mutters.
I remain silent, trying to calm the shaking inside me. My last encounter with Jax is as fresh as if it were yesterday. No matter how much I try to push it away, I can't.
His wrinkled, sun-worn face is clear as day in my mind. The disappointment in his expression as he wags his finger at me. His crackling voice announcing,"We're done. Don't ever reach out to me again."
The more I try to push it away, the more insistent it becomes. Hurt and guilt eats at me.
The car slows, and I peek out from under my cowboy hat. As the gate comes into view, I put my seat back up and adjust my hat on my head.
Memories of thousands of practice sessions and hours spent on the ranch pummel me. It's bittersweet, and as much as I want to lean into it, I also want to run.
Willow parks where we always used to. I get out of the SUV, and she jumps out before I can come around and open her door.
Jax is on the porch, leaning against a post, finishing his cigarette. He snubs it out, curls his fingers in the air, and orders, "Let's talk inside." He turns, opens the door, and disappears before we get there.
I grit my teeth and close my fist, wishing I could redo a lot of things in my past, but I can't. I never thought I'd hear from the old man again. When he gave up on me, it wasn't with an emotional statement one could take back. It was a true declaration and position of finality.
Which is why this is so nerve-racking. Plus, I don't like not knowing why he insisted on Willow being here, even if I do like getting to spend time with her.
I motion for Willow to go first. She stomps past me up the stairs, and I follow. We step inside.
Jax stands in his kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. He locks eyes with Willow. "Darlin', how have you been?"
"I'm good," she says in a neutral tone, the questions I'm sure she has, barely being held back.
"Coffee?" he offers.
"No, thanks."
He finishes pouring the hot liquid into the mug, takes a few sips while staring at me, then finally sets it down.
"Wyatt. Didn't know you were going to be in town."
"That makes two of us," I drawl.
He points at the table. "Let's sit down."
My anxiety gets worse, but I don't argue with him. I pull a seat out for Willow, but she ignores it and selects another one.
I sit next to her and direct my question to Jax. "What's this about?"
"Glad we're going to avoid the niceties," Jax quips.
I bark, "Sorry. Did you want them?"
"Wyatt!" Willow scolds.
"What? He brought us here, and now he wants to play games. I don't have time for this," I argue.
A quiet laugh rumbles from his chest.
