Ashes & Asphalt

Chapter Sixteen — Built From Fire and Want

The first rays of light slanted through the blinds, streaking gold across her bare shoulder.

Jax leaned on his elbow, watching her sleep—like he always did when the world felt quiet enough to remember she was real and back in his bed. In his life. His future.

He didn’t wait long.

Sliding beneath the sheets, he found her warmth, her softness, the sleepy sigh that left her lips when his mouth touched the inside of her thigh. Her fingers tangled in his hair, still half-lost in dreams when he began to devour her like a man with a singular purpose: to ruin her for the rest of the day.

She gasped his name when his tongue hit that spot she forgot she missed. He didn’t let up. Not once. Not when her legs trembled. Not when her hips bucked. Not until her body broke apart under his mouth and she cried out for him, eyes wide and desperate.

He crawled up her body, kissed her like he wanted to burn his name into her bones. “That’s how you’ll start every morning from now on,” he murmured against her lips. “Thinking of this. Wanting me.”

She was still breathless when he pulled away to shower. Still dazed when he buttoned up his shirt, tucked a loaded gun into the back of his jeans, and leaned over to kiss her again.

“I’ll be back by dark,” he said. “You stay close today. Dani’s around.”

Taylor watched him go, lips parted, ruined in the best way.

Outside, Kellan was already by the truck, a clipboard in hand, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder. The man never stopped moving.

Jax slid in beside him, engine growling to life. “Tell me we’re good to go.”

Kellan hung up and handed him the clipboard. “We’ve got the first round of deliveries arriving at the house within the hour. Security detail’s confirmed. I’ve got two guys doing perimeter checks. We’ll have it locked tighter than the compound by the time you’re done spending a fortune on windows.”

Jax smirked. “Worth every cent if it keeps her safe.”

They drove toward the house—their house—the hum of asphalt under tires feeling like progress, like the world moving forward.

Even if Jax still carried the ghost of what they’d lost.

Even if this new life was being built on ashes.

It was theirs now.

And nothing would take that from him again.

The truck kicked up a trail of dust as Jax and Kellan pulled into the long gravel drive that led to the old house.

Jax stepped out first, boots crunching underfoot. The place hadn’t changed much since the last time he stood on this soil with Taylor in his arms. Same chipped paint. Same heavy silence. But it felt different now—because this time, he wasn’t just remembering. He was rebuilding.

“I’ve got the perimeter mapped out.” Kellan unfolded the blueprint on the truck bed. “Motion sensors, reinforced entry points, bullet-resistant glass, steel core doors. It’s going to take time, but this place will be impenetrable.”

Jax nodded, his eyes scanning the wraparound porch, the trees that had grown taller since he was a boy. “Good. This house? It’s going to be where we raise our kids. Where Taylor never has to look over her shoulder again.”

Kellan’s gaze flicked to him. “You’re really going all in.”

“Hell yeah.” Jax didn’t hesitate. “This is it. My future’s in that woman’s hands, and I’m not risking it.”

A crew arrived, kicking the day into high gear. Jax moved with purpose, overseeing the clearing of old debris, hauling lumber off a flatbed, barking out orders like it was second nature. Kellan matched his pace—organized, efficient, a damn good right hand.

Inside, the crew stripped back what remained of the outdated interior—ripping down old drywall, checking the structural beams. Dust coated every surface, but to Jax, it was already the outline of something new. A clean slate.

He stood in the center of the living room—the one he once read in, slept in, nearly bled out in during a fight long before the club ever wore their colors. Now, it was the room where Taylor would wrap herself in a blanket with their kids asleep down the hall. It would be hers, like every inch of it.

Kellan wandered in, clipboard in hand. “We’ll need to upgrade the water heater. And I’ve got an architect coming in to discuss the nursery wing you sketched.”

Jax cracked a smile. “Can’t believe I’m saying that word and not flinching.”

“You’re different, man,” Kellan said simply. “You’re still Jax. Still fire. But you’ve got roots now. That changes a man.”

“Changes him or saves him?” Jax asked, half to himself.

They moved from room to room, mapping it out—where the reinforced safe room would go, how to reroute the back exit, even which wall would house Taylor’s favorite vintage clock. Jax wanted it all right. He wanted it ready.

No more loss. No more ghosts.

This house would hold the future, not the past.

And if it took tearing it down to the bones and building it back up with his own hands, so be it.

The sun was already low by the time Jax and Kellan pulled back into the compound. Their bikes were coated in a fine layer of dust, boots scuffed, shirts sweat-soaked from a day that felt like building more than just walls. They were laying a foundation—of something permanent.

Jax cut the engine and sat for a moment, staring at the garage before finally swinging off the saddle. “We’re getting there,” he said quietly.

Kellan followed his lead. “One brick at a time.”

It wasn’t just about fixing up an old house. It was about creating something that would hold—unlike the things that hadn’t. Ghost. The fractured loyalty of the world they lived in. Taylor slipping through his fingers once. This time, Jax was setting up his future like a man laying traps. Nothing would slip past him again.

Inside, the compound was quiet. A few voices murmured down the hall, and the usual low hum of life buzzed in the background. But for the two of them, it felt like stepping into a different kind of silence—earned and heavy.

Kellan tossed a bottle of water toward Jax who caught it midair. “You ever think about what Ghost would’ve said?”

Jax’s jaw ticked. “Yeah. Every damn day.”

“He’d be proud of what you’re doing.”

“Would he?” Jax leaned back against the kitchen counter, cracking open the bottle, gaze distant. “He’d probably say I’m going soft.”

“Maybe,” Kellan smirked. “But he’d still be right beside you. Just like I am now.”

There was something in that—something grounding. Jax hadn’t let anyone in for a long time. Kellan hadn’t replaced Ghost. No one ever could. But what he had done was show up. Every damn day. No questions, no pressure. Just solid ground.

“Thanks,” Jax said, low and rough, like the words were stones he rarely carried. “For all of it.”

Kellan just nodded. No chest-beating. No speeches. Just that unspoken understanding only forged through fire and blood and loyalty.

“You ready for what’s next?” Kellan asked.

Jax pushed off the counter, already moving toward the stairs. “I’m building a life. I’ve never been more ready.”

And upstairs, he knew who was waiting for him.

Home didn’t begin and end with a building. It was her. It was the way she looked at him when no one else was watching. It was knowing that—for the first time—he wasn’t walking into battle. He was walking into peace.

The bathroom door creaked open with a soft hiss of steam. Jax stepped out, toweling off the ends of his hair, the scent of soap and heat trailing behind him. His muscles ached from the day’s work—honest strain that settled into the bones, the kind he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Taylor sat cross-legged on the bed, her hair up in a messy bun, one of his black tees hanging off her shoulder. She smiled faintly as he walked in, towel wrapped around his waist, tattoos slick with moisture and shoulders heavy.

“Tough day?” she asked gently.

Jax didn’t answer right away. He just gave her a look that said enough. She padded barefoot over to him, placing her hands on his chest, the heat of his skin seeping into her palms.

“Sit,” she said softly.

He raised an eyebrow, but complied, dropping to the edge of the bed with a groan. She moved behind him, kneeling on the mattress, legs bracketing his hips. Her hands found his shoulders, firm and patient.

“You’re tight,” she murmured, thumbs kneading into knots that had no name, only memory.

“Long day.”

“You’ve had a few of those.”

“Worth it,” he said without hesitation.

She worked in silence for a while, hands steady. His breathing slowed, muscles slowly unwinding under her touch. She could feel how much he held—held in, held together.

“I’m proud of you,” she said quietly. “Of what you’re building.”

His head tilted slightly. “It’s for you. For us.”

Taylor leaned in, pressing a kiss to the base of his neck. “I know. That’s why it means so much.”

He turned slightly, just enough to see her out of the corner of his eye. “You ever think we’d get back here?”

“No,” she admitted. “But I never stopped hoping.”

His hand found hers, grounding them both.

“I’m not losing this again, Taylor.”

“You’re not,” she whispered.

The bedroom was dimly lit, the quiet hum of the compound settling into night. Jax lay stretched back against the headboard, towel around his neck, his body finally relaxed after the long day. Taylor was tucked against his side, one hand resting gently on his chest. They didn’t speak, just breathed in sync, the silence between them soft—earned.

She had already worked the tension from his back after his shower, her touch sure, intimate. Now, they lounged in the quiet, the air between them thick with something unspoken. Until Jax broke it.

“You were married twice before me.”

Taylor stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away.

“Blake, then Liam,” he continued, not accusing—just stating fact. “This is your second chance with me. That’s already one more than you should’ve gotten.”

She turned her head, eyes meeting his. “I know.”

Jax ran a hand over his jaw, then looked at her. “If you run again, Tay—if you ever even think about walking out on this—don’t come back. Not to the compound, not to the house, not to me. There won’t be another welcome waiting.”

“I’m not running,” she said, voice steady. “I did that once. I broke us once. I’m not going to make it a habit.”

Jax’s eyes searched hers for the truth. He must’ve found it because his hand slid behind her neck, pulling her close.

“No third husbands,” he murmured against her mouth.

She gave a breath of a laugh, tear-bright but real. “No third husbands.”

He kissed her slow, grounded—not desperate, not angry. Just certain. A promise sealed in touch.

They lay back down, her head resting beneath his chin, his hand locked around hers. The room stilled around them.

And Jax finally let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—she was staying this time.