“Need air.”
He steps onto the narrow fire-escape balcony, already pulling a cigarette from the pack, already checked out—as if this conversation is optional.
I stare at the open window for exactly three seconds before following him.
I can’t help but look at him. The city lights catch the hard lines of his back, the new muscles shifting as he moves. A shiver goes through me that has nothing to do with the temperature.
He doesn’t even turn around. “Go put on some pants. People can see you.”
“I don’t care.”
He glances back, his eyes raking over me, and a ghost of a smug smile plays on his lips. “I thought I made it clear to you that pants aren’t optional.”
“You’re not wearing a shirt. I’m not wearing pants. Who gives a fuck?”
“I do,” he says, his voice turning suddenly serious. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, his eyes never leaving mine. “You give them enough of a show on stage. The rest is just for me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, crossing my arms. “Since when do you smoke?”
He looks away while I dissect him inch by inch—every tattoo, every muscle, even the small ring through his nose. He’s changed, that’s for sure. “I don’t even know you anymore,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You do.”
“You vanished for months, Jax.”
“I needed time.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Time?” I repeat. “You needed time? After Ivan died? After we crawled out of that pit while everyone thought you murdered half the city?”
He looks away.
My voice cracks despite myself. “I defended you,” I say, the words breaking. “I stayed and defended you while nobody even knew if you were alive.”
“I’m sorry,” he tells me weakly.
“You are sorry? You disappeared!” I snap. “You left me to clean up everything.”
Jax flicks ash over the railing. “I know.”
“That’s it?” I laugh. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“You think I wanted you dealing with that?”
“Someone had to,” I snap again.
I look at him harder, and the words just tear out of me. “You didn’t even go see your mom!”
He lowers his eyes.
“You left everyone,” I say. “Me. Her. Your dad. Like none of us mattered.”
“I needed you to move on,” he finally says.
“Move on?” I nearly shriek. “You didn’t break up with me, Jax, you left without a word. After we both fell into hell!”
He doesn’t answer. My throat tightens, the question slipping out before pride can stop it.
“…Do you even want me to come back?”
