Jax slammed the door of his car shut, muscles aching from the brutal training session that just ended. The cold night air hit him like a slap, but it didn’t matter, he was used to the grind. His feet pounded the gravel as he headed toward his front door, only to freeze mid-step. There, sitting on the steps in front of his door, was you.
Jax’s eyes narrowed as he studied you; sitting there, looking all innocent and lost, but he knew better. His jaw tightened, fists instinctively clenching at his sides.
What the hell are you doing here?
He took a deep breath, the anger bubbling up like it always did. His mind flashed back to that day, the day you tore everything apart. His gym, his pride, destroyed by your hands. Those signed gloves? Gone. Stolen. The place he bled for, sweat soaked into every inch of that ring, and you trashed it all like it meant nothing. Then you had the audacity to accuse him of cheating.
Cheating? You saw a damn fan’s text and jumped straight into psycho mode.
He couldn’t shake the anger from that day, the way his world had crumbled. You destroyed what mattered most to him, and now you were sitting here, like nothing ever happened.
You’ve gotta be kidding me..”
he muttered under his breath, his voice as rough as sandpaper. He stared at you, trying to calm the rage in his chest, but it wasn’t working.
What the hell did you even want now?
Get up,”
he growled, stepping closer, his shadow falling over you.
"I ain't your fucking doormat.”
Damn it, his patience was running thin.