This was so fucked.
He leads me to a trailer behind the stage, and we walk into the living quarters area. There’s no one inside, but I slide into the seat by the table, accepting the water he finds for me, and watch him down one of his own.
“So that was scary to watch,” I admit, referencing the bullfighting he finished minutes before my set.
He smirks and shrugs. “It’s what I do.”
“I didn’t hear that you were performing today,” I say, wondering if that information was kept from me on purpose. It’s not as if the whole town, or at least the people who lived here while we were growing up, didn’t know our history.
“It was a spontaneous event,” he replies, shrugging. “I missed it.”
“You’re very good at it.”
He quirks a brow at me, probably not expecting the compliment given that I’ve been giving him nothing but a cold shoulder for the last couple of weeks.
He walks over and sits on the seat next to me, leaving no room between us as he stares at the bottle of water in his hand. “City…” He starts and then pauses, letting out a sigh of frustration. “I said some shitty things to you in that house.”
“Jax, you already apologized?—”
“No, I know.” He nods his head, turning to face me, his left arm reaching across the back of the seat and his eyes imploring mine. I didn’t know how to look away, and a larger part of me didn’t want to. “I know I apologized, but the more I think on it, the more I realize how young and dumb I was, how inexperienced we were, the more I want to hash everything out with you.”
I frown, looking for a hidden meaning behind his words. “What does that mean?”
“Felicity.” He pauses, his hair falling over his forehead when he dips it down, and he licks his lips. “I want to take you on a date.”
The air in my lungs seems to freeze, and I blink at Jax for a minute. “A date?”
He nods, nerves written all over his face. “Yes. A date. I want to take you out, to buy you a meal, to catch up on everything we’ve missed. Because, if I’m being honest, I’ve missed the hell out of you, City Girl.”
The words, the actions, the whole thing is so unexpected that before I can think rationally, before I can tell myself what a horrible idea this is, given my current state, the word “yes” escapes me.
I have never been immune to Jax Cash, and it seems that still holds true.
18
jax
Nothingabout me should be nervous about meeting Felicity for dinner. But every single nerve is firing, letting me know under no circumstances is chill going to happen.
Ever since that night in the bar when I found out she’d come home, something sparked in my brain, had altered everything I thought I knew about our breakup, about her character. It’s not as if she was in the right, but she had tried correcting her wrong.
And I had made that impossible for her to do. I hadn’t been there, hadn’t been reachable to her in years.
Why would she feel comfortable reaching out anyway, when I did everything I could to block her from my life?
Tonight, in my eyes, is a second chance at the life I always wanted. At the girl—woman—I’ve dreamed of every night since I was fifteen.
Pulling up outside her folks’ house, I steel my nerves, telling myself to get a grip when all I want is for tonight to go well. No fighting. No arguing. Just two people explaining their sides of the story so we can work this out.
Hell. I hope she wants to.
If Felicity and I can do it, then my whole life will change for the better.
I bat that thought away, feeling like a damn hopeless romantic when I really need to get a grip on reality.
Walking up to the front door, I take and release a deep breath, then reach forward and politely rap my knuckles on the door.
Footsteps sound, too heavy for Felicity, and I brace myself for seeing Gerald Vogel, the man who treated me like more of a son than my own father did.
