Jax

As I walk through the restaurant, Raegan’s ex’s voice rings through the space, the sound grating on my nerves. Knowing he has touched her, has loved her, makes me crazy.

I overheard what he said to Raegan, and it took everything in me not to throw him against the wall and choke the ever-living shit out of him. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her or to merely exist in the same world as her.

I wonder who Stella is and why Travis is keeping her from Raegan. Whoever she is, I feel bad that she’s stuck with him.

I stalk past his table and glare at him, hoping he falls ill at any moment. To my dismay, he doesn’t. He continues to talk to the blonde chick, who doesn’t hold a thing compared to Raegan. The girl sitting next to him looks as fake as his laugh sounds.

Raegan is natural, beautiful, a creature I’ve never seen before, and she’s worth a thousand bad days just to have one good day with her.

And all those things are exactly why I can’t have her because, with just our few interactions—of me being a complete asshole—I’m already taken with her. So absorbed in who she is that I can’t think straight. But I can’t divide my attention between Raegan and Sam. As much of an ass that it makes me, I feel like Raegan would win out, that she would consume me. Sam deserves to be my sole focus because she can’t defend herself the way Raegan can.

I push on the glass door leading out of the restaurant, but I don’t leave. I stand outside, letting the darkness cloak me as I hover near her a little longer.

I watch as she brings food to her ex and the blonde, Raegan’s back ramrod straight.

This is it. Her ex is the reason she holds herself up when I can tell she wants to fall down. I can see it with each step she takes in his direction, in the way the plate shakes when she moves to place it on the table.

When the tray is empty, she hugs it to her body, using it as a shield, as she walks away from them with her head hanging low.

He broke her.

And I want nothing more than to break him.

I shut my truck door, and I hear screaming coming from the open window on the second floor of my parents’ house.

My jaw tics as I jog up the driveway and run inside, the shouts getting louder the closer I get to the stairs. I take them two at a time, rushing down the hall, following the noise to my parents’ room.

I push open the door as my mom throws a laptop out of the window.

What the hell is happening?

“Kate, stop,” Dad demands as he hauls her away from the window.

“Put me down!” she screeches, thrashing against him. He places her on the bed, but she immediately stands, taking the pillows off the bed and tossing them out the window.

“What’s going on?” I ask, finally finding my voice.

Dad startles when his eyes connect with mine. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Mom rips the cord of the lamp out of the wall and picks it up off the nightstand, heading toward the window yet again.

I race across the room and take it from her, lobbing it on the bed before I close the window and lock it.

Her blue eyes are wild, her chest heaving, as she looks at me with disdain, like I stole her most valuable possession.

“Why are you throwing shit out the window?” My lungs work overtime as my heart races. I’ve never seen her act this way.

She stares at me, unblinking, so I shift my gaze to Dad, waiting for an answer.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” He takes cautious steps toward Mom, like she’s a skittish cat about to make a break for it.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” I bite out.

Mom turns away from me and runs in the bedroom closet, slamming the door.

What were they fighting about that had Mom going off the deep end?

“Dad—”

He holds a hand up. “Not now.”

“Tell—”

“Jax,” Sam whimpers, hovering in the doorway. She rubs her nose with the back of her hand. “I heard shouting.”

I take three long strides and crouch down next to her. “It’s okay, Munchkin.” I hug her to my chest, rubbing the back of her head.

She sniffs as her small arms cling to my neck. God, I wish I could save her from this house.

“Take her out of here,” Dad says, standing next to me. He extends his hand, holding out his credit card. “I don’t care where you go; just leave.”

I snatch the card from him and pick Sam up, carrying her to her room. She doesn’t need to be around whatever is happening here. So, I’ll take her as far away as I can.

I halt across from the girls’ section in Target and squat down next to Sam. “Pick anything you want,” I tell her, holding her small hand in mine.

Her mouth drops open as she gaps at all the clothes before she looks back at me. “Anything?”

“Yep.” I want her to have whatever her heart desires. I don’t know what happened at the house earlier or what she witnessed, but the fact that she has to endure any of it is unacceptable.

“How many?” she asks, swinging her shoulders back and forth.

“You can get as many clothes as you want.”

She grips my hand as a huge grin stretches across her face. “We need a cart.”

I should have thought of that before we walked clear across the store. I glance around and spot an abandoned cart ten feet away. “Got it.”

I sweep her up in my arms, and she giggles as I race toward the empty cart.

I place her in the cart on her feet, not bothering to sit her down in the top part that I know she’s too big for.

“Hold on,” I say as I grip the bar and race back to the little girls’ section.

She laughs louder, and a smile tugs at my mouth.

“Okay, Munchkin, lead the way.”

She beams as her eyes scan the sea of clothes. “That.”

She points to a shirt with a cat on it, and I take us in the direction, grabbing the one in her size.

I hand it to her, and she clutches it in her tiny hands, holding it close, like she treasures it more than anything.

She spends an hour picking out clothes and toys, and I let her have everything she wants. I can’t help it. I’m a sucker for her smiles and laughter, and she warrants so much more than a shopping cart full of new things.

As we head to the checkout, she lies in the pile of clothes and toys, tilting her head back to look at me. “Love you, Jax.”

My eyes soften. “I love you, too, Munchkin.”

I don’t feel bad for putting a dent on Dad’s credit card, not one bit.