Colton smiled when he saw me coming, and with an espresso martini already prepared, he said, “Peyton texted me earlier. Gave me a heads up that you three would be here. Sounds like you’ll need a drink,” he slid the cocktail across the bar, “and this one’s on me.” He winked.
“Thanks, Colton. Mind keeping an eye on my table when you’re not busy?” My voice came out in a low whisper as my eyes shifted around the bar.
“Anything for you, babe.” He nodded.
With a slight smile, I walked over to the booth, doing my best to pretend I wasn’t distraught on the inside.
I only had a couple sips of my drink before Jax walked through the heavy wooden doors. Now that I knew he was Spencer’s son, I couldn’t unsee the resemblance.
Both of them stood over six feet tall and had the same strong jaw line. Dark hair and eyes to match. Except, I didn’t get lost in Jax’s eyes like I did with Spencer’s. His were dull and lifeless, while Spencer’s were intense. He had this uncanny ability to draw me in with just a simple look. The darkness in his eyes pulled me in so deep that I never wanted to look away. In all of the years I spent with Jax, I never had a feeling even close to that.
“Hi, Avery,” Jax greeted me with his hands buried in his pockets.
I didn’t know what to expect when he got here. The last time I saw him, he had the type of grip around my arm that had me looking over my shoulder everywhere I went since. The last thing I expected was a shy and timid greeting.
“Hi.” Was all I could muster up.
“Mind if I sit?”
“Um. No. Let’s just get this over with and talk about whatever you want to talk about.” My hands rubbed along the top of my jeans, drying my sweaty palms.
After how long we were together, it shouldn’t feel so foreign to be in the same space as him. But it did. Nothing about it felt right, and inside, the nagging thought that this would have to feel normal at some point if I wanted to be with Spencer, wouldn’t go away.
Jax slid into the booth, and the fact that he wasn’t drinking didn’t go unnoticed. I guess he wanted to go into this conversation with a clear mind, and that was something I could appreciate.
“I guess, I should start by saying, once again, I’m really sorry. I know words are shit without action, but it doesn’t feel rightnot to apologize. I’ve spent every waking moment thinking about everything lately, and I should have said sorry a long time ago. The things I texted you were horrible. Confronting you the way I did in the casino last month was awful. And of course, the way everything went down with the video wasn’t right of me whatsoever.”
I swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say, becauseof coursehe should be sorry. I didn’t want to say it was okay when it wasn’t. And he was right; his words meant nothing. But how could he ever show me that he was truly apologetic?
“Thank you,” I settled on.
“I … Uh, I talked to my mom.” He scratched the back of his head.
It didn’t occur to me until that night at Spencer’s penthouse that Jax had such a big issue with his mom. Growing up, I was so involved with my own chaotic parents—the drugs, their passing—that it never even appeared as if Jax had any issues with his own family. To me, they appeared perfect when comparing them with my own upbringing.
“How did that go?”
“Informative, to say the least.”
“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” I took a sip of my martini, simply because I needed something to do with my hands.
“Actually, it is. I’m just trying to figure out where to start.”
“I guess, just start with the part that has to do with me. Or why you’re here.”
“You don’t understand, Avery. Itallhas to do with you.”
His shoulders dropped in defeat.
“How does your relationship with your mom have anything to do with me?” My eyebrows dipped.
“Well, for starters, after I spent hours—days—this last week or so, begging my mom for more information, she finally caved.Apparently, even in your mother’s lowest moments, she still thought to have a backup plan for you.”
My head snapped up at the mention of my mother.
What did she have to do with anything?
“Wait. Wait a minute. What do you mean? What does my mom have to do with any of this?”
