Ashes & Asphalt

Chapter Ten – Borrowed Time

Jax stood in front of the mirror in his room, adjusting the collar of his black shirt. His leather cut hung over the back of a chair, untouched. He didn’t wear it today. Not for this.

His hair was still damp from the shower, jaw clean-shaven, boots laced with practiced force. It wasn’t that he was dressing up—he just needed to feel steady. Sharpened. Ready for whatever came next.

A knock rattled the door once before Dani barged in, holding a protein bar in one hand and eyeing him suspiciously.

“Well damn,” she said, pausing mid-step. “You look like you’re about to go to war.”

Jax didn’t look at her. He grabbed his keys and shoved them into his pocket. “I’m meeting Taylor.”

Dani blinked. “Taylor—as in Taylor? The Taylor who ghosted all of us and walked out on you?”

He gave a curt nod.

“I didn’t even know she was back.”

“She wasn’t planning on staying. She needed to be here. For Ghost.” Jax muttered, voice even but taut around the edges.

Dani leaned against the doorframe, the easy sarcasm gone from her tone. “Okay. But what about Lark?”

Jax turned to face her now.

“What about Lark?” he asked. Not defensive. Just final.

Dani raised an eyebrow. “She’s been here, Jax. She’s been around. And yeah, maybe nothing happened between you two, but don’t act like she didn’t want more.”

“I never gave her any reason to think I could give her more.”

“No,” Dani agreed. “But maybe you didn’t stop her from hoping either.”

Silence dropped between them.

Dani sighed, shaking her head. “I’m not telling you what to do. Just… don’t act surprised if someone gets hurt. Lark’s not a temporary girl, and Taylor?” Her voice softened. “She’s not exactly built for casual either. Even if she pretends she is.”

Jax didn’t answer. He walked past her, heavy steps echoing against the floorboards.

Because Dani was right.

And it didn’t change a damn thing.

He had to see Taylor.

The old oak door creaked softly as Jax stepped into Taylor’s room. The air smelled like her—something warm and soft and heartbreakingly familiar. She stood by the window, her back to him, hair pulled loosely over one shoulder, wearing one of those oversized sweaters that swallowed her frame but made her look even more like home.

She didn’t turn when she spoke. “Dani texted me.”

Jax’s jaw clenched. “Of course she did.”

“She told me there’s another woman. Someone who wants your heart.”

“Dani needs to stop meddling,” he growled, stepping in further, closing the door behind him.

Taylor finally turned, her expression unreadable. “Is she wrong?”

His eyes flicked across her face—every curve of her features etched into his memory so deep it hurt. “Does it matter?” he said, voice low. “You left. You asked me to let you go.”

“And are you?” Her voice was soft, but the tension in the room was razor-sharp. “Are you letting me go, Jax?”

He stared at her, and for a moment his breath caught. He hated how much she could still undo him with a single question.

“I did,” he said. “I let you go when you told me to. And it broke me.”

She blinked but didn’t move.

He took a step forward, fire simmering beneath his control. “But now you’re here. And I’m standing in this room trying to figure out if you’re just visiting your past, or if you actually want a future.”

“Jax—”

“No,” he cut in, voice harder now. “You don’t get to leave cracks in me and then not say what the hell you want. You asked me to let you go—fine. I did. Now I’m asking you: are you all in or not? Because if you’re not—if this is just some passing ghost for you—I’m done. I’ll protect what’s left of me. I won’t open this door again.”

Taylor swallowed hard, emotion tightening her throat. Her fingers curled at her sides, nails biting into her palms.

He waited. Held there in the storm of what they once were and what they could be.

“Give me a straight answer, Tay,” he said, softer now but no less firm. “Don’t make me guess again.”

The silence that followed held everything—past pain, unspoken love, and the brittle edge of what might still be salvaged.

Taylor met his eyes then. No flinching, no hiding behind guilt or fear. Just the raw truth she had buried under grief and distance for far too long.

“I’m all in,” she said, steady and clear.

Jax didn’t breathe.

“I never stopped being yours,” she continued, her voice thickening with emotion. “Even when I left. Even when I tried to be someone else in another world… I never stopped waking up with you in my chest.”

She stepped forward, slow and deliberate. “But I had to find my way back to myself before I could find my way back to you. That took time. And pain. And space. But I’m here now. I know what I want. I want you.”

His jaw was tight, eyes locked on hers with a thousand memories flickering behind them.

She reached for him, her palm pressed to his chest, right over his heart. “No more guessing. No more silence. I’m not walking away again.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. His body was stone, every nerve bracing for more damage. But then something gave—just enough for the fire to melt into warmth.

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her closer until their foreheads met.

“Good,” he said, voice low and fierce. “Because next time you walk away, I’m coming with you.”

She let out a shaky breath, laughing through the tears that threatened to fall. “There won’t be a next time.”

His mouth met hers—not out of desperation, but out of something solid and steady. Something real.

They didn’t need to burn the world down this time.

This time, they were building something in the ashes.

Jax didn’t let go of her hand.

Not even as he took a step back and guided her toward the bed.

He needed her close. Needed to feel the weight of her beside him to believe this was real and not just another trick of his memory—a dream that smelled like her, spoke like her, but disappeared when he reached for it.

She followed without hesitation.

When her knees hit the edge of the mattress, he helped her sit, then lowered beside her, their hands still linked. No heat. No frenzy. Just the gravity between two people who had been to hell and found their way back by some impossible, stubborn force.

“You say you’re all in,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing the inside of her wrist.

She nodded. “I meant it.”

“Then I need you to understand something.” He looked her straight on. “You being here again, saying that… It doesn’t go halfway. If you’re in my life, you’re in it. I don’t share. I don’t pull back. If you need time or distance, you tell me. But you don’t disappear.”

“I won’t.”

“Because if you leave again,” he murmured, his forehead brushing hers, “I won’t survive it clean.”

Her hand cupped his jaw, fingers grazing the edge of his beard. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

They didn’t speak after that. He just lay back and pulled her into his arms like he had been waiting for this moment since the second she left.

Because he had.

Her head found its place on his chest. His hand settled low on her back. Their legs tangled naturally, like they’d never forgotten how.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Jax Maddox closed his eyes without the sharp edge of grief pressing in. Just her breathing steady against him.

His.

Finally.

The room was dim, quiet—too polished, too impersonal. Not their space, not like his childhood house. But she was in it, and that made it enough.

Taylor curled into his side, her head on his chest, fingers tracing absent lines against the fabric of his tee. The covers were bunched around her waist, but her warmth stayed pressed close. She hadn’t said much since she gave him her answer. She was in this. With him.

Jax hadn’t needed more than that.

He held her like he was still anchoring them both. His hand rested on her bare back, slow movements, up and down, like muscle memory he hadn’t let himself touch in months.

The hum of the ceiling fan blended with her steady breaths. Her scent—something soft and clean and hers—wrapped around him, grounding him even in a place that didn’t feel like his.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, voice rough.

She didn’t lift her head. Just shifted closer, tightening her grip on him like she didn’t want to risk space slipping between them.

“I’m tired,” she whispered. “Not from the day. From all of it.”

He nodded, even if she couldn’t see it. “I know.”

And he did. That kind of tired wasn’t from lack of sleep—it came from months of loss, from pretending to move on while still bleeding from the inside out.

He tipped his head back against the headboard, eyes on the ceiling. “Ghost would’ve hated this place.”

Taylor let out a breath—a soft, sad sound that could’ve been a laugh. “He would’ve called it too floral and too quiet.”

“Too many throw pillows,” Jax added, lips twitching.

Her fingers paused on his chest. “But you’re here.”

He looked down at her. “Because you are.”

She lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes. “I didn’t come back for nostalgia, Jax. I came back because the numb never stopped.”

“I didn’t expect it to,” he said. “You left with it. You brought it back.”

She didn’t argue. Just dropped her head again, pressing her ear over his heartbeat.

It was quiet for a long stretch of time, but it wasn’t empty.

“Do you think it’s selfish?” she asked suddenly, voice small.

“What?”

“That I want something that feels good again, even if I’m not whole.”

Jax tightened his grip on her, jaw flexing. “No,” he said. “I think it’s the most honest thing you’ve said all night.”

She closed her eyes.

He didn’t say he forgave her for leaving. He didn’t say he was healed, or that any of this was simple.

But he was here. And so was she.

For now, that was the only truth either of them could hold.

Jax’s hand stilled on her back.

“For what it’s worth,” he murmured, his voice like gravel and calm, “you’ve got a place waiting for you. But you need to tie things off first.”

Taylor shifted just enough to glance up at him, brow drawn. “You mean with Liam.”

He nodded. “Yeah. You said you’re filing. So finish it. Close the chapter right. I’m not dragging you into mine while you’re still half in another.”

She swallowed. “You think I’m not serious?”

“I think,” he said, eyes locking on hers, steady and unreadable, “that I won’t share you. Not emotionally. Not legally. Not with some man who has no idea what you look like when you break.”

Her breath hitched.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, not soft but grounding. Like a brand. “When it’s done, the compound is your home. Until then, this…” He gestured around the room. “This is borrowed time. And I’m not in the habit of living halfway.”

Taylor closed her eyes, something in her chest tightening with the weight of him—his conviction, his rules, his truth.

“When it’s done,” she echoed.

Jax nodded once. “Then we make our next move.”

And that was that.

No romantic promises. No begging. Just certainty. Because Jax Maddox didn’t ask for commitment. He laid it out and waited to see who showed up.

And Taylor was already halfway through the door.

The clubhouse fell into a hush the moment Jax stepped into the main room.

It wasn’t often he called for everyone’s attention. When he did, they listened.

Mason leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. Dani stood near the kitchen, tension in her shoulders. Kellan looked up from cleaning a rifle, waiting.

Jax didn’t waste time.

“She’s coming back.”

He didn’t need to say her name. Every man in the room knew who he meant.

Some exchanged glances. Others straightened from where they sat. But no one dared speak.

Jax’s tone remained even, calm, the gravel in his voice familiar and final. “Taylor’s coming back home. Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon.”

He scanned the room, eyes pausing on each of them like a silent warning. “This ain’t the past. She’s not walking in like before. You treat her with respect—like she’s one of us. Because she is. And if you got something to say, you say it to me.”

A beat of silence followed. Mason gave the smallest nod. Dani blinked, something caught between relief and emotion flickering across her face.

“She’s not here to cause a scene. And this club ain’t here to pick apart the pieces of what was. We’re building new. That means loyalty. That means family.”

Jax shoved his hands into his pockets, jaw tight. “You wanted to see me move forward. So don’t question it when I do.”

With that, he stepped back, leaving the weight of his words hanging thick in the air. No objections came. Just quiet acceptance.

It wasn’t up for debate anyway.

Taylor was coming home.

And this time, Jax would make damn sure it stayed that way.