Lucas: Rehab pool every morning. Mia’s playing nurse again—keeps bringing me protein shakes and telling me to stop trying to lift weights one-handed. Eddie gave her the full time off to “help me recuperate.” Sexy as hell when she’s bossy.
Jax: “Recuperate”? Mate, we both know that’s code for something else.
Lucas: Don’t I know it. Perks of being the injured World Champion. She’s got me on strict orders—lots of “hands-on” therapy. I’m suffering terribly.
Jax: Too much information. Again.
Lucas: You’re jealous. Tell Aria I said hi. And that you’re mooning over her like a teenager.
Jax: Shut up. Focus on getting better.
He didn’t deny it. Couldn’t, really.
???
The bar was half-empty, city lights smearing gold across the desert skyline below. Dana had dragged Jax up here after the podium celebrations wound down—said she needed air that didn’t smell like champagne and sponsor cologne. She wasin shorts and basic t-shirt, trainers kicked up on the railing, nursing a beer. Jax sat beside her, still in his team hoodie, elbows on his knees, staring at the water.
Dana took a long sip, then side-eyed him.
“Alright, spill it, dickhead. What the hell is going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
Jax huffed a laugh, rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing. Just tired. It's been a long weekend.”
“Bullshit.” She nudged his boot with her foot. “You’ve been tired since Bahrain and you still managed to podium twice in a row while grinning like an idiot. Try again.”
He exhaled through his nose, eyes still on the river. “She’s… good for me. Keeps me steady. That’s all.”
Dana snorted. “Steady. Right. You look at her the way Lucas used to look at Mia before he finally grew a pair and admitted he was in love. Sheepish as fuck, pretending it’s casual. Same vibe.”
Jax’s ears went pink. He shot her a look. “It’s not like that.”
“Mate.” Dana leaned forward, elbows on the railing, voice dropping to that dangerous, fond tone she only used when she was about to gut-punch someone with truth. “You flew a fourteen-hour red-eye from Bahrain to Seoul just so she wouldn’t have to walk a red carpet alone. You get this soft, stupid smile every time she texts you—like a teenager who just got his first ‘good morning’ from his crush.”
Jax opened his mouth. Closed it. Rubbed his jaw.
Dana waited, eyebrow arched.
He finally muttered, “It’s complicated.”
“Love usually fucking is,” she said flatly. “Doesn’t make it less real.”
He flinched at the word. Just a little. Enough for her to clock it.
“Jesus, Callaghan.” She laughed—short, rough, affectionate. “You’re so far gone it’s almost cute. You’re in love with her. Full stop. You’re just too scared to say it out loud because what if she still has feelings for the ex, or what if she laughs in your face and walks away. Newsflash: she’s not laughing. She’s looking at you the same way. Like you’re her safe place in the middle of all this.”
Jax stared at his hands. “If I say it and she doesn’t….”
Dana softened—just a fraction. "Stop pretending. Just say it. Worst case, she freaks out and you have an awkward few weeks. Best case, she says it back and you stop looking like a kicked puppy every time she leaves for Seoul.”
He let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “You’re brutal.”
“I’m right.” She clinked her glass against his untouched beer. “You’re in love with Aria Moon. Don’t be a coward about it forever. You’ve got bigger balls than that on track.”
Jax finally met her eyes. Sheepish.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Maybe.”
Dana grinned—feeling victorious. “That’s my boy. Now drink your fucking beer.”
