Jax's Little Obsession

Chapter 29

Maya’s Pov

The heavy metal door of my father’s old workshop groaned as I pulled it open. The familiar smell of motor oil, hot metal, and old gasoline washed over me, instantly pulling me back to a time before university, before contracts, and before the Worth family turned my world upside down.

I stepped inside, my boots crunching on the dusty concrete floor. My mother’s health had finally started improving, which gave me a rare afternoon to check on the place.

Walking past the rows of half-dismantled engines and rusted shelves, a heavy ache settled in my chest. I had spent my whole life trying to escape this tiny garage, but standing here now, I realized how much I deeply missed it.

I set my bag down on the wooden workbench and picked up a rusted wrench, running my thumb over the worn handle.

"I didn't take you for a sentimental person, Maya."

I jumped, dropping the wrench with a loud clatter against the floor. I spun around to find Jax standing just inside the doorway. He had somehow walked up without making a single sound. He wore a simple black t-shirt and dark jeans, completely stripped of his usual expensive business suits. He looked around the dusty, cluttered garage, his dark eyes taking in every detail with surprising curiosity.

"How did you find me?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs from the sudden scare.

"I told you," Jax said, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him. "I always know where to find you."

I crossed my arms, trying to steady my breathing. "This isn't your campus, Jax. You shouldn't be here. What if someone sees you? What if your father’s people follow you?"

"Let them," Jax replied smoothly. He walked over to the workbench, picked up the wrench I had dropped, and placed it back on the shelf. Then, to my absolute shock, he rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, exposing strong, toned forearms. "Are you going to stand there staring, or are you going to help me fix this place up?"

"Fix it up?" I echoed, blinking in disbelief. "You don't even know how to hold a wrench. You grew up in boardrooms, Jax. This is grease, not stock portfolios."

Jax didn't argue. Instead, he walked past me toward a heavy, leaking transmission housing sitting in the corner, grabbed a set of pliers, and expertly began loosening a stubborn bolt that I had struggled with for weeks. His movements were precise, quiet, and surprisingly skilled.

I stared at him, my mouth slightly open. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"My grandfather," Jax said without looking up, his voice dropping into a quiet register. "Before my father turned everything into spreadsheets and corporate towers, my grandfather liked old machines. He taught me how things actually worked before I was old enough to understand business. Most people think I only know how to destroy things, Maya. They forget that building takes patience too."

A strange, warm bubble of emotion swelled in my chest. I walked over to help him, grabbing a clean rag to wipe down the grease as he worked. For the next few hours, the tension between us melted away into the rhythm of hard work. We didn't talk about the university, we didn't talk about the rumors, and we didn't talk about the rules. We spent our time restoring an old, beaten-up motorcycle that used to belong to my father, handing each other tools, pointing out flaws, and working side by side like two mechanics who had known each other for years.

As the afternoon sun started dipping below the dusty windows, casting a golden glow across the garage, I leaned back against the workbench, wiping my greasy hands on a rag.

"You know," I said softly, looking around the cluttered room. "When my dad died, I thought this place was just a trap. I thought I was stuck here forever. But coming back here now... I realize this is the closest thing I have to a home."

Jax stopped working. He set the wrench down slowly on the table and turned to face me. His dark eyes were soft, completely stripped of their usual defensive armor.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice thick with a sudden, heavy emotion. "A home isn't about luxury, Maya. It's about where you feel like you belong."

I looked up at him, the quiet intimacy of the garage pressing in around us. The shadow of his family’s massive redevelopment project hung over this neighborhood like a dark cloud, threatening to bulldoze everything my father had built. My chest tightened as I thought about what was coming.

"Jax," I said, my voice dropping to a serious whisper. "The Calloway expansion... your family's project. They're planning to tear down this whole block. They're going to destroy this neighborhood."

Jax’s expression hardened just a fraction, but he didn't look away. "I know."

"I can't let them do that," I said, stepping closer to him, my eyes searching his face for any sign of hesitation. "This workshop is everything I have left of my father. I won't let your family wipe it out for another luxury tower. You have to promise me you won't let them destroy this neighborhood."

Jax reached out, his warm, strong hands coming up to cup my face. His thumbs gently brushed against my cheekbones, wiping away a tiny smudge of engine grease. His touch was steady, absolute, and full of a quiet promise that went deeper than any contract we had ever signed.

"I promise you," Jax said, his voice ringing out clearly in the quiet garage, "I won't let that happen."

I let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the world lift off my shoulders just a little bit. He hadn't told me yet that stopping the project meant standing up directly against his own father, or that the war he was about to start would risk everything he owned. He just stood there, looking into my eyes, willing to give me whatever I needed.

I placed my hands over his, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath my palms. "Thank you, Jax."

He didn't smile, but his dark eyes burned with an intensity that made my heart race. He leaned in slowly, closing the distance between us until his lips hovered just a millimeter away from mine.

"Don't thank me yet, Maya," he whispered against my mouth. "Protecting what's mine is going to cost more than either of us realize."