Chapter Two - Ghost on the Skin
1316 Words
Taylor dropped her keys into the bowl by the door and stood in the silence of her apartment, not moving. Not thinking. Just… existing.
The scent hit her first.
Leather. Smoke. Him.
Jax.
It was faint, but it clung to her—her hair, her skin, the inside of her throat. She peeled off the dress like it had personally betrayed her, kicking it into the corner of her pristine bedroom. Then the bra. The heels. The memory of his mouth.
Gone.
Or at least, she wanted it gone.
She stood in the middle of her room in just her underwear, arms crossed, staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The bruises on her hips, the faint red marks on her neck. Her body ached, and not in a bad way. And that was the worst part.
It wasn’t regret that burned inside her.
It was want.
And she hated it.
Taylor stormed into the bathroom and turned the water on as hot as it would go. Steam fogged up the mirror while she scrubbed her skin like it might erase the memory of his hands. The problem was—her skin didn’t want to forget. It burned hotter, tingled, remembered.
“Stupid,” she muttered, dragging a towel around her like armor. “So, so stupid.”
She stepped out into the bedroom and grabbed her phone, intending to scroll, distract herself, do something normal.
But the second she unlocked the screen, a message flashed across the top.
Maddison: “Please. Can we talk? I messed up. But you don’t understand the full story.”
Taylor stared at the text.
The full story?
Like there was a version of screwing your best friend’s husband or ex-husband that somehow made it okay?
She didn’t even realize her thumb had hovered over the message. She considered replying. Tearing into her. Getting the last word.
Instead, she locked the phone and tossed it onto the bed like it was contaminated.
She walked to the kitchen in a hoodie and high socks, opened a bottle of sparkling water, and stared out the window. Her apartment was beautiful. Bright. Perfectly curated. But it felt hollow right now. Like the city itself was watching her—waiting for her to crack.
She sat on the barstool, legs pulled up to her chest, phone buzzing again from the bedroom.
She didn’t move.
She wasn’t going to see Blake again.
She wasn’t going to let Maddison twist the knife twice.
And she wasn’t going to think about Jax.
Except… she was already thinking about him.
About the way he looked at her. Touched her. The quiet way he’d taken control when everything else was falling apart.
“You keep saying that. But you’re the one making it a thing.”
She groaned and dropped her head onto her arms.
This wasn’t her. She wasn’t the girl who had one-night stands with dangerous men who smelled like gasoline and turned her brain to mush.
And yet…
She didn’t feel broken this morning.
She felt awake.
She stayed like that for a while—curled up at the kitchen counter like a girl who’d just survived a war. Which, emotionally speaking, she had. She made it through betrayal, heartbreak, bad whiskey, and waking up in a stranger’s bed—except he wasn’t just any stranger.
He was Jax.
And he wasn’t letting her forget it.
Her phone buzzed again from the bedroom.
Taylor groaned.
“If that’s Maddison again, I swear to God…”
She dragged herself back to the bed, grabbed the phone with a sigh, and stared at the screen.
Unknown Number.
Her brows knit.
Not Maddison. Not Blake.
She hesitated.
Then answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Just long enough to make her spine tighten.
Then came the voice—smooth, low, unmistakably smug.
“You always sound this grumpy after a good night?”
Taylor nearly dropped the phone.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I figured it was only fair. You left your earrings in my bed.”
She blinked. Looked down at her bare lobes. “Seriously?”
“I don't play games, Taylor. I just return property.”
She swallowed hard. There was a beat of silence. Her breath hitched.
“How did you even get my number?”
“You left your phone unlocked in my room. You were very trusting. Or very drunk.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She turned away from the window, pacing now. Her voice dropped to a hiss.
“Is this why you called? To give me back some earrings?”
“And because you haven’t stopped thinking about me.”
Her face flushed—hot, embarrassed, caught.
“I’m not doing this,” she snapped. “Whatever this is, it’s over. We made a mistake. It happened. That’s all.”
“Funny,” he said. “Didn’t feel like a mistake at the time.”
Her pulse jumped.
“Besides,” he continued, voice softer now, like smoke curling around her ribs, “you looked pretty content wrapped around me.”
She hated that her body remembered that too vividly. Her skin prickled, traitorously.
“I don’t even know you.”
“You know me better than most people ever will.”
“You don’t scare me, you know.”
“You should be scared.”
That silenced her.
There was a breath between them. Maybe two.
Then Jax spoke again—calmer this time.
“I’m not chasing you, Taylor. But I’m not done with you either.”
She closed her eyes, heart pounding.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I know.”
Another pause. Then:
“Earrings are in a box on your side of the bed. Come get them. Or don’t. But we both know you’ll want to.”
The line went dead.
Taylor lowered the phone slowly, her hand trembling.
The worst part?
He wasn’t wrong.
She stared at the phone like it had just insulted her intelligence.
There was no way she was going back to that godforsaken place for a pair of earrings. Let him keep them. Toss them. Pawn them. Set them on fire. She didn’t care. She really, really didn’t.
“I’d rather lose both ears,” she muttered, tossing the phone face-down on the counter.
Taylor got up with a new surge of purpose. She grabbed her laptop, her planner, her brand pitch notes—anything that didn’t smell like smoke, s*x, or betrayal. She planted herself on the couch and started firing off emails like she was launching missiles.
Work. She needed to drown in it. Let it consume her. Let it burn out the memory of all these useless people orbiting her life like parasites.
They could all go to hell.
Maddison with her fake apologies and “please let me explain” texts. Blake with his smooth lies and wandering hands. Even Jax—with his maddening smirk and devil-in-denim voice—he could ride off into a ditch for all she cared.
Taylor clenched her jaw, typing faster.
She’d build her name so big, she wouldn’t need anyone. Not validation from her family. Not love. Not friendship. She’d land the biggest ad campaigns, triple her following, and make so much money she could leave this city behind and never look back. Eat croissants in Paris. Dance in Tokyo. Sleep under Moroccan stars.
She’d live a life no one could touch.
Not Blake.
Not Maddison.
And definitely not that biker, Jax Maddox.
Her notifications dinged—an email from a brand rep offering a last-minute collaboration. Normally she’d think twice before committing. But not today.
She hit accept with zero hesitation.
Bring it all on. She’d work herself into forgetfulness if she had to.
Because needing people? Trusting them?
That was her biggest mistake.
- Writer
