Fighter

I’d been leaning against the truck’s passenger door, but I jerked upright after that. Without pausing, I snapped back, “I may not like the holidays, but kicking me out of the family party isn’t your call, Dean. But fine. Fuck it. See if I want to come anyway.” I set my jaw and reared back, ready to throw the phone into the dashboard, but Jax swooped over. I flung it in the air and his hand snatched it, just a few inches from mine.

My eyes went wide at his quickness, and I crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to pout. My brother was going to kick me out of the party—but damn, Jax’s swiftness was seriously hot. I shot him a look. “I hope you know what you just cost me.”

He smirked, his eyes sparking. “Your family’s parties are always the same: Booze. People getting drunk. Boxing on the television, and everyone threatening to take out their Taser guns. You hate your family parties.”

Shit. He was right. Still, it should be my decision whether or not to go. I leaned back against the truck. “I stir at the stove—that’s my job—and I drink. Dylan always bitches, but he brings me a new beer every time he sees I’m out. And I stand there because I can listen to all of the conversations at once.”

“You miss your family, huh?” Jax’s voice softened.

I closed my eyes against that tone from him. Shit, shit, shit. It was enough to make my toes curl and little tingles shoot through me. The cement wall was crumbling again.

I looked over at him. “Because of the party? No. I’m being stupid. You’re right. I usually hate them.” The fighting. The loud voices. The bickering…which led to wrestling which led to laughter about how the wrestlers both sucked, and then the night would end around a bonfire. Stories being told. More laughter.

All of it was pure chaos, but Jax was right. I had missed my family—since we broke up. I sighed. I’d ended things and left two weeks later. I hadn’t been back since.

Feeling my tongue swell at more of my stupidity, I waited to see if he would bring it up.

There was a moment of silence, and when he spoke, his voice sounded odd. “If we’re going to devise a plan for how to get around your brothers tomorrow, we should get going. Your cabin is another twenty-minute ride, and I think we both could use some sleep.”

And fuck me.

The caring and soft Jax just went away. I could feel a wall slam into place between us, and when he started the truck and pulled onto the road, I had a feeling neither of us would be getting much sleep tonight.

Chapter Six

And I didn’t.

When we got to the cabin, there wasn’t much conversation between us. The bed in the master bedroom was a king. Not sure about the sleeping arrangements, I looked around, but Jax made the decision for me. He pulled me down onto the bed and laid behind me. I expected an arm to come over me, like the old days, but he turned over and slept with his back to me. It wasn’t long before I heard his deep breaths and knew he’d fallen asleep. I’m pretty sure I listened to him breathe all night long.

After a day of plotting, we felt ready, and the next evening, Sally’s was packed. Again. A pit had been formed around the ring so the throng of drunk people couldn’t clamber onto the boxing match. It was for their safety, not the fighters’. The fighters would just punch them and send their bodies soaring back into the crowd.

Surveying the scene from where I’d taken position at one of the ring’s corners, I could see my brothers around the bar. Dylan chatted with Haley by the palm tree—still decorated with multicolored thongs and condoms. Dean had taken point at the fire escape this time, and when he met my gaze, he folded his arms over his chest and gave me a disapproving look. It shot right through me, taking me back to when I was six and had strapped firecrackers to his Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. I’d thought it hilarious to see little bits of bikini models floating through the air, but he hadn’t been amused. And he wasn’t now either.

I looked away. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. They were. But if we explained the situation to them, I knew it wouldn’t matter. Not to Dean at least. Dylan would be sympathetic, but our other brothers followed whatever Dean said. And in Dean’s mind, this was business as usual. Extenuating circumstances for the jumpers wasn’t our headache. That’s what he always said. And he had a point. Every jumper had an excuse, a reason why they’d missed court, blah blah blah. Dean had had to stop caring or he’d never take his jumpers in and never get paid.

But this was Jax and this was different.

“Are you ready to get stuuuuuuunnnng?”

I narrowed my eyes and stifled a laugh. A yellow jacket mascot now jumped around the ring, pretending to sting people in the crowd. He directed his last taunt my way, his black, beady eyes looking at me almost the same way Dean just had, but he didn’t wait for a response. Hopping around to put his rear in my face, he rolled his hips from side to side, wagging the long, black stinger in rhythm with the music blaring from the speakers.

People around me laughed, and when I saw the stinger coming back toward my face, I batted it away. The mascot turned around and huffed, “You don’t have to be so violent, woman.”