“It’s nothing. I love Eve, you know that.”
I wait for him to tell me he loves her too.
Instead, he sighs. “Who’s the dude sleeping on your couch?”
“Jax. I thought you knew him?”
Gabriel’s silent a moment, leaving me his steady breaths for company. I lean back in my seat and stretch my neck, but it makes me think of how Jax moves stiffly most mornings and that I now know why.
I stop stretching and throw Gabriel a bone. “Blond dude. Went to school with Eve when she was in England.”
“Surfer dude? Yeah, I remember him. I think.”
“He said you don’t like him?”
“Huh? Oh. Fuck. Yeah, that’s my fault. Eve went screaming up to him when we saw him in Cali one time. I didn’t know it was her college BFF so I gave him the stank eye and she punched me in the dick when we got home.”
I snort, because it’s so Gabi. Stank first, think later. He deserves that punch in the dick. “He’s cool. You’d like him if you met him again.”
“No doubt. Eve said he’s a sweet guy, but his ex fucked him up real bad. Kept him prisoner in the basement or some shit. So messed up.”
I add it to the pile of Jax information I’ve learned today, and rage burns me up. I’m even angry with that damn fucking shark for attacking him, despite the fact that I have no right to feel anything about thelifetimeJax lived before I met him.
But I cut Gabi short all the same. I tell him to call his girlfriend and hurry inside.
I don’t go upstairs, though. I wasn’t entirely lying when I told Eve I had to check on my troops. Open-mic night is big business at V and V. The only reason I’m not working is because my boss insists I don’t front more than six shifts in a row.
The place is pumping in its own laid-back kinda way. It’s not the thrum of a regular bar, more a gentle hum that gives the joint its rep as a place for everyone. Rainn is running the show. There’s not a glass out of place until my gaze falls on Molly trying to open the register with a corkscrew.
Sighing, I shoulder my way to the end of the bar and duck beneath it. “What’s cookin’, sweetheart?”
Molly turns her round, red-rimmed eyes on me. “I can’t get the register to open and I need to give that guy his change before he gets mad at me again.”
I follow her gaze to the smartly dressed dude at the other end of the bar. He’s a regular who wouldn’t dream of giving my staff a hard time, so I’m pretty sure it’s Molly’s douchebag boyfriend who’s upset her, but I don’t tell Molly that. Instead, I walk her through the transaction she’s trying to make and point out that she’s forgotten to press the enter button to log the items and amount she’s trying to process.
It isn’t hard, but Molly’s a singer, not a bar girl. Yelling at her isn’t gonna change that. Also, I drank all the wine samples and forgot to write down a single thing about them, so who the fuck am I to tell someone they’re doing a shitty job?
I shadow Molly through her next couple of customer interactions, then I pack her off to get ready for her mic set. If I’m not working, I don’t usually hang out when V and V hosts special nights, but I’ve promised her I’ll watch, which really interferes with my plans to rush upstairs and find Jax.
But it turns out not to matter. The thing about being quiet is that I hear conversations that don’t involve me. And I’m not the only one fixated on the handsome blond sleeping on my couch. Secondhand bar gossip tells me Jax has gone out, so I park myself on a barstool and drink a pint of the non-hard cider we’ve just started carrying. It’s fruity and restorative, and it kicks the headache I’ve carried all day to the curb. Someone brings me a plate of tiny maple-glazed sausages wrapped in bacon, and I snarf them while wondering what Jax is up to. If he’s eaten dinner yet, wherever he is.
I’m willing to bet he hasn’t. He doesn’t talk about money, but I know he doesn’t have any until he gets paid by Jerry at the end of the month, and I’ve seen the ramen wrappers in my garbage can. It bugs me that he might not be eating anything else, so I try to feed him whenever I see him. But it’s hard to marry that with letting him make his own choices. He’s a grown man. I don’t get to fix his problems for him just because I want to.
Open-mic night kicks off. Most of the participants are terrible, then Molly comes on with a fiddle player from out in the sticks and they blow the place down. She’s amazing and I’m glad I stuck around to find out.
I give her a wave as she flits off stage, but I’m suddenly distracted by a tingling in the back of my neck. It’s the same fluttering sensation I get when I stumble into my living room and find Jax on my couch. When he’s awake and I can kid myself that he’s waiting for me.
He’s home.
I don’t know how I know it, but I do.
Work forgotten, I take my glass and plate to the bar’s tiny kitchen, then I jog upstairs, the dancing in my belly increasing with every step. I feel like a lifetime has passed since we parted ways last night, and I have no idea what I’m going to say to him.
As it turns out, though, I don’t say anything. I let myself into my apartment and follow my gut to the living room. Jax is by the couch, stripping for a shower. He’s shirtless for the first time since I met him, and despite the vicious scars disappearing below his waistband—no,becauseof them—he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Chapter Six
Jax
