by Lane Hart
“Page, really,” Preston says, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “All I said was that you’ve been great helping me with my contract and he’s lucky to have you. Then he started accusing me of…of, well, being with you last Friday night. I didn’t want to lie to him, so I said yes. Before I could explain, he nailed me on the jaw!”
“Crap,” I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut in understanding.
“I had no idea that you kept that from him. If you had told me, I would’ve lied…”
“I didn’t keep anything from him!” I exclaim. “I told him I was working, and that was true. I went with you and your agent to dinner to celebrate the extension being finalized, but I didn’t think Jax needed to know all of the details or he would assume the worst, which he, of course, did!”
“Sorry,” Preston says with a wince. “And I’m sorry you’re married to such an asshole.”
“Jax may be an asshole, but he’s my asshole!” I reply. “I think you should go,” I tell him with a nod toward the open office door.
“You’re serious? We can’t be friends anymore because your husband is a jealous, angry lunatic?”
“Yes,” I say, rather than argue Jax’s finer points.
“That’s not what I want,” Preston says when he gets to his feet.
“I’m sorry, but my mind is made up about this,” I tell him.
“Well, maybe my mind might get changed about pressing charges for that assault the other night.”
“Preston,” I start. “Please don’t do that.”
“I won’t,” he says, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “If you agree to go out with me.”
My jaw momentarily drops in disbelief. “Did you just hear anything I said?”
“Do you want Jax to get arrested or not?”
“I am not going out with you,” I tell him as I stand up from my desk with a small recorder in my hand. I learned my lesson about dealing with shady men after an incident in a hotel room years ago. “I’m a married woman. You were my client and maybe somewhat of a friend since you occasionally brought me lunch, but that’s done and over. So take your threats and get out of my office before I call security!”
Preston’s eyes go to the recorder and then back to mine before he grabs his coat and storms out.
“Bastard!” I mutter as I flop down into my seat once he’s gone.
Jax once told me I was an asshole magnet, himself included, and I’m starting to think he’s right. But I want my asshole back.
Pulling out my phone from my desk drawer, I check it for the millionth time today, looking for a missed call or a text message from Jax.
Nothing.
Great.
At this point, I’m starting to think it’s gonna take a Christmas miracle to bring us back together.
Chapter Ten
Jax
“Tell me something good,” I say to Matt Newton when I sit down at the conference room table in his small, strip mall office.
“Well,” he says as he starts pulling eight-by-ten photos from a folder and spreading them out in front of me.
I hold my breath as I examine each and every one, waiting to have my heart pummeled and my soul crushed.
And I do get my heart pummeled and soul crushed, even though all I see are Page and Xavier, my wife and son that I miss so goddamn much I’m about to go insane.
I clear my throat as I sniffle, hoping Matt will assume I’m coming down with a cold.
“Page goes to work, meets with very few clients in her office, with the blinds open, then goes home.”
“That’s it?” I look up at him and ask.
“Yep,” he answers with a nod. “The only other place she goes is daycare to pick up and drop off the kid and the grocery store. Oh, and she’s been to the doctor a few times. There haven’t been any other cars at the house at night, well, other than your family members. Honestly, I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Jax.”
“She didn’t even tell me she was putting Xavier in daycare. But I guess that’s good for him, right? He gets to play with other kids and shit?”
“Yeah, daycare is good,” Matt agrees with a grin while I pick up each of the photos just to be closer to my family.
Then, I see a photo that only makes me see red.
“This fucker,” I say as I point to it with my index finger. “He was at her office this week?”
“Ah, yeah,” Matt answers. “I watched through my camera zoomed in the whole time. They had a short conversation, no touching, and then it looked like it turned heated based on their body movements. Page got to her feet and was gesturing toward the door like she was yelling at him to leave. Finally, he did.”
“That’s it?” I look up at him and ask.
“That’s it,” he says with another nod. “Guy got into his car, pulled away fast. That was the last time he was there.”
“So you don’t think they…” I start to ask.
“Look, I can’t give you any guarantees about what your wife was doing before I started following her, but I can tell you that nothing illegal or immoral happened on my watch. Mostly, she just looked…sad.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” I say while picking up a close-up shot of Page right outside the house, holding Xavier’s hand as they get out of the car.
“Let me know if you need anything further,” Matt says.
“Yeah, thanks,” I tell him as I stand up to leave. “Can I have these?” I ask, nodding to the photos.
“All yours,” he says, so I pull them into a neat pile and carry them out to my car with me. It’s not much, but it makes me feel just a little closer to my family.
Chapter Eleven
Page
I’m getting ready to put Xavier to bed when my phone starts buzzing its way across the coffee table. Seeing the three letters of his name on the screen is both terrifying and exciting as my fingers tremble trying to quickly press the button to answer before he hangs up.
“Jax?” I say, holding the phone to my ear.
“Hey.” His gruff, one-word response has my stomach doing somersaults.
“Hey,” I repeat, sitting down on the sofa with my legs folded underneath me.
“Sorry to call so late, but I wanted to tell Xavier goodnight if he’s still up,” he says, making my throat constrict.
“Yeah, sure. H-hold on,” I say before going to Xavier’s room where he’s putting on his pajamas. Holding out the phone to him, I tell him, “Xavier, Daddy wants to talk to you.”
Our son’s tired eyes light up before he takes the phone and puts it up to his ear. “Hey, Daddy!”
Sitting down on the floor Indian style, I can hear Jax say, “Hey, buddy. How was daycare today?”
“Fun,” Xavier answers. “The firemen came, and we got to climb on their truck!”
“Wow, I bet that was really cool,” Jax replies.
“They turned on the sirens and gave us all red hats just like theirs!” Xavier gushes.
There’s a long pause before Jax says, “The next time I see you, you’ll have to show it to me. Sounds like you had a great day.”
“I did. Maybe I’ll be a firefighter when I grow up since you said I can’t be just a fighter like you and Uncle Jude.”
Xavier said he wanted to be a fighter when he grows up?
“Yeah, Jude and I wish we could be firefighters. They’re big, strong heroes who save people,” Jax tells him. “That’s a lot better than what we do.”
“I wanna drive the big truck. Do you think they would let me one day?” Xavier asks.
“Yeah, buddy. I’m sure you could,” Jax tells him. “Now get ready for bed, do what Mommy tells you and I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Xavier asks him, sounding so hopeful I almost answer before Jax.
“I’ll try, buddy. Let me talk to Mommy about that first, though,” Jax answers. “Love you. Sleep tight and goodnight.”
“Night, Daddy. Love you too,” Xa
vier says before he hands the phone back.
Clearing my throat, I tell him, “Go brush your teeth and potty, then I’ll come tuck you in and read you a story.”
As soon as he runs off, I put the phone up to my ear. “Hey,” I say again, at a loss for words.
“Hey, so, um, could I pick up Xavier from daycare and spend time with him at the house tomorrow?” Jax asks.
“Yeah, of course,” I reply without hesitation, and then I’m so nervous about being here with Jax and things being awkward that I add, “I’ll go have dinner with my parents and Logan so you can spend some time alone together.”
“Okay, thanks,” he says followed by a long, silent pause. “Tell me what you want me to do here, princess. What do I need to do to come home?”
“Jax, you know what you need to do. You have to get your anger under control, for good. I can’t…I can’t live with a sleeping volcano that could erupt at any second without warning.”
“If I knew what to do with the anger, I would’ve done it years ago,” he says. “Other than fighting, I’m at a loss here, Page.”
“There are classes for it,” I tell him. “Anger management and therapy. You’ve never tried either.”
His heavy exhale floats across my face. “If you want me to see a shrink, I’ll see a shrink.”
“Yeah, I do,” I tell him, running my fingers through my hair in frustration because I wish there was some magical, instant solution, but there’s not. “There are techniques for calming down they can show you. Anything other than hitting someone…”
“The other night…that had nothing to do with my temper and everything to do with that fucker being an asshole!”
“Jax,” I chastise, with an exasperated shake of my head. “Using the f-word and other swear words less might be a good start too.”
“You want me to save the dirty talk for just the bedroom? I can do that too,” he says, making me smile because I can just picture the smirk on his face. “But you’re the one who yells out all the obscenities when I’m buried deep inside of you, ain’t that right, princess?”
“Jax,” I say in warning.
“How long has it been? Four weeks, going on five?” he asks. “Let me come take care of you tonight. You know you need it…”
“Jax, I can’t,” I tell him. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I say before hanging up on him.
Our physical relationship has never been a problem. When Jax and I are together, even after almost five years, sex between us wasn’t anything less than explosive.
The reason we hadn’t been together for the last few weeks is all my fault. I’ve been exhausted each and every night. And during the days, I’ve tried to figure out how to tell Jax what I’ve been keeping from him. But waiting for the moment he wasn’t angry just never came. And the longer I keep my secret, the harder it will be to tell him…
Chapter Twelve
Jax
“I’m going to the house tonight,” I tell Jude as we run side by side on treadmills.
“Yeah?” he replies with a grin. “Good for you.”
“Page won’t be there,” I add.
“Oh.”
“She wants me to go to counseling.”
“And? That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Jude says.
“What if it doesn’t help?” I ask. “What if throwing punches is the only anger management that works for me?”
“Does it work?” he asks.
“Yeah, I mean, I think so, temporarily at least. It’s better than anything else,” I answer. “Well, almost anything.”
Fucking is the only other way to tame the raging beast inside of me. And when my wife goes weeks without letting me touch her, well, I become an even grumpier bastard than normal, which is probably why she can’t stand me...
Last night, after she hung up on me, I jerked off like a teenager in my childhood bed, thinking about our first time together at the hotel in New Jersey…
More than just the mere pleasure, it felt like I had waited my whole life to find Page, and finally being with her was like finding my way home after being lost for so long.
“I need a fight,” I tell Jude. “Like the real deal.”
“So fight,” Jude says with a shrug as he slows the pace on his treadmill and then climbs off.
“Who?” I ask. “I retired. The IFC wouldn’t schedule shit for months after physical exams, blood tests, promotions, the whole deal.” I slow my own pace until I can jump off.
“Well, you’re not under contract, so you can fight anyone you want.”
“You mean like on my own?” I ask in confusion.
“Yeah, sure, but the money probably won’t be as good.”
“Fuck the money,” I say, since it was never about that. Sure, it was great getting paid to do what I love, but that was only a bonus.
“Let’s talk to Don, see if he can get something scheduled,” Jude offers, heading in the direction of his office.
“Hold up,” I say, grabbing his arm to stop him. “I can’t fight. Page would lose her shit.”
“Really?” he asks. “I thought she was just pissed because you hit that client jerk of hers at the party.”
“I need to figure this mess out with her first probably.”
“But how are you gonna do that if you’ve got all that anger and aggression inside you making you an asshole?”
“Good point.”
We make our way to Don’s office and run into Alex, who is coming out.
“Hey guys,” Alex says.
“Hey, man. What are you up to?” Jude asks, nodding to the large envelope in his hand.
“Oh, just talking to Coach about donating to the orphanage, you know, to help with Christmas presents,” he tells us.
“You need anymore? I’ll throw a few thousand in,” Jude offers.
“Cool, thanks, that would help. Whatever is leftover they’ll use for renovations for the house. That place is so rundown, and I’m giving them whatever it takes to fix it up,” Alex replies with a shake of his head. “If you want to help wrap or deliver the gifts, we could use the help too.”
“I want to help,” I speak up to say, unable to imagine kids like Xavier being abandoned or losing their parents. I still get to see him, but I can tell my absence is taking a toll on him.
“Sure, thanks, Jax,” Alex says before trading a look with Jude.
“How about a few hundred thousand?” I offer as an idea starts to form.
“Ah, okay, great,” Alex replies.
“I’m gonna host a fight,” I tell him and Jude. “One round with anyone who thinks they can beat me. If they make me submit or tap out, I’ll give them a hundred grand. If no one can, I’ll donate two hundred thousand to the orphanage. Page can’t be pissed about that, right?” I ask my brother.
“No fucking way,” Jude answers. “You’ll be like the Grinch who saved Christmas and shit.”
“Yeah, hopefully she’ll go for it,” I say, needing to be in the cage but also needing my family.
…
Page
“Thanks for coming out with me to dinner,” I tell Logan after we’re seated in the Italian restaurant he picked.
“No problem. Eating alone gets old, and Mom and Dad are, well, Mom and Dad,” my brother replies with a grin.
“Believe me, I know.”
“I’m leaving the firm,” he blurts out before I can even pick up my menu.
“Say what now?” I ask once I’m able to pick my jaw up from the table.
“I should probably say that I’m hoping to leave the firm within the next few months,” Logan clarifies. “Guess I’ll have to find another job first.”
“You’re serious?” I ask him. “Dad’s just gonna let you walk out?”
“He doesn’t really have a choice,” he replies. “You’re right. Patents, copyrights and trademarks are boring and unchallenging. I think I want to try criminal law.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s a lot of w
ork, a lot on the line if I lose, but working on Jax’s case a few years ago was the most excitement I’ve had in a long time.”
“Okay, so why can’t you change up your area of law and stay at Dad’s firm?” I prod.
Logan’s eyes lower before he answers. “Dad’s retiring. I’m not sure if he told you, but he wants me to take over for him, and I…I want a fresh start, to go out on my own for once, you know?”
“Oh, I know,” I assure him. “That’s what I wanted too, but it turned out to be more work than I thought.”
“Jax will come around, Page,” Logan tells me. “You two just need to find a compromise, about your work and his.”
“He doesn’t work,” I say. “He hits people. Or used to hit people.”
“How did you feel when you sat down in your own office the first time?” Logan asks.
“Amazing, like I was finally where I was supposed to be…” I say before the realization hits me. “You think Jax is missing that?”
“Of course he is. Everyone is searching for two things in life — the person who ‘completes them’, and where they fit into the world doing what they’re meant to do. For us, it’s practice law. For Jax, it’s something else entirely, but I seriously doubt it’s being a house mom.”
“I know that,” I reply on a sigh.
“Xavier’s going to be going to school soon, and then what will he do? Sit home and twiddle his thumbs waiting for you two to come home?”
“He could have plenty to keep him busy in a few months,” I assure Logan.
“Isn’t that his choice?” my brother asks. “A man needs to provide for his family, to take care of the people he loves, not just sit back and watch you do it.”
“How would you know?” I ask.
“Because I can see myself with a wife and kids someday, and I also know without a doubt that I would never be able to give up my practice.”
“But the difference is that you don’t condone violence in your everyday business.”
“True,” Logan says. “Although it’s not like Jax was a pastry chef when you met. You knew who he was, what he did for a living.”
