Page 5 of My Girl to Use

Another pause. Longer this time.

“You’re being selfish.”

I press the heel of my hand flat against the counter, spread my fingers, and watch them go steady. They always go steady. It’s the only thing about me that’s never once argued back. “And you’re being controlling.”

Her voice drops, quieter now, but no less sharp. “You will come back, Jaxon. Whether you want to or not.”

My jaw clenches. “Try me.”

“Don’t test me.”

“I already am.”

Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.

“We’re done here,” I say.

“You’ll regret this.”

“Maybe,” I admit. “But at least it’ll be my regret.”

I end the call before she can say anything else.

For a second, I just stand there, staring at the blank screen. My chest goes tight, my pulse pounding hard in my ears. Then I drag a hand through my hair and let out a long, frustrated breath.

“Fuck.”

The apartment feels too small suddenly. Too quiet. Six hundred square feet, a queen mattress on a cheap metal frame, and a name on an eight-day-old lease that isn't the one on my racing license. My father could find me in an afternoon if he wanted to. The point was never that they couldn’t. The point was that I left.

I grab my keys and head out before I can think too much about anything else.

???

The air outside is cooler than I expected. The late afternoon sun is dipping lower, casting long shadows across the street. I shove my hands into my pockets and start walking with no real destination in mind, just needing space, distance, from everything.

From my mother. From that life. From the version of me they keep trying to force back into place.

I walk for a while, letting the tension bleed out slowly with each step, my mind replaying the conversation whether I want it to or not. Her voice. Her expectations. The same fight we’ve been having for years, just louder now. More final.

I exhale sharply and turn back toward Wilder House, ready to call it a day.

That’s when I see her.

She’s walking toward the building, a baby balanced carefully against her chest and a large tote bag slung over her shoulder like it weighs more than it should. She moves quickly, purpose in every step. Her grip is firm but gentle around the kid like she’s done this a thousand times.

I slow down without realizing it. She’s…not what I expected to see today.

Petite, but not fragile. There’s something steady about the way she carries herself, like she’s used to handling more than she should. Long black hair falls down her back in loose waves, slightly messy like she didn’t have time to fix it properly. Herskin catches the last of the light, warm against the dark fall of her hair.

When she turns slightly, I catch a glimpse of her face—full lips, soft but set in a way that tells me she’s not someone who lets people walk all over her.

Then her eyes lift. Blue. The sharpest blue. Alert. They meet mine for half a second. And just like that…everything else fades.

The anger. The frustration. The noise in my head.

Gone.

There’s something in her expression. Guarded, maybe a little tired, but strong. Like she’s holding herself together by sheer will.