Jax's Little Obsession

Chapter 17

Maya’s Pov

The garage felt small suddenly, even though it was huge. My heart was still pounding against my ribs from the race, my skin was still buzzing, and the air felt thick and heavy. Jax was standing only a few feet away, leaning against his workbench with his arms crossed over his chest.

He wasn't the cold, arrogant boy who had dragged me into his world anymore. He looked tired, but for the first time, he also looked human. The usual sharp edge of his expression had softened, leaving behind something lonely.

I took a deep breath, the adrenaline starting to fade into a strange, quiet kind of curiosity. I didn't know why, but I felt like I could finally see past his armor.

"Your father," I said, my voice quiet in the big, echoey room. "And your mother. And Dakota. Do you even love any of them? Or is everything just a game of chess to you people?"

Jax’s face hardened instantly. He looked away, his jaw tightening so hard I saw a muscle jump in his cheek. He walked over to a rack of tools, picking up a wrench and turning it over in his hands like he was trying to figure out how to break it.

"Love," he said, the word sounding like something he hadn't spoken in years. "That is not something my family does particularly well, Maya. We do business. We do power. We do expectations. Love is just a weakness that people like my father use to get what they want. It’s just another piece of the board."

I looked at him, and for a split second, I didn't see a rich, powerful guy who thought he owned the world. I saw a kid who had been raised to be a weapon instead of a person. A sudden, sharp ache blossomed in my chest. I felt sorry for him—so sorry that it almost hurt to look at him.

"You don't have to be like them, Jax," I whispered, taking a step toward him. "Just because you have their name and their money doesn't mean you have to be empty inside. You have a choice. You can be different."

He finally looked at me. His eyes weren't cold anymore. They were dark, intense, and filled with a kind of hunger that made my knees feel weak. He put the wrench down and started walking toward me, slow and deliberate, like a tiger moving through tall grass. He stopped just inches away, invading my space in a way that made my breath hitch in my throat. I should have backed away. I should have run for the door. But I couldn't move. I didn't want to move.

He stood so close I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. He reached out, his hand coming up toward my face. His fingers were shaking just a tiny bit, and I saw his thumb brush the air right next to my cheek. It was like he was trying to touch me, but he was afraid of what would happen if he actually did. My heartbeat was so loud I was sure he could hear it. I stared at his lips, then back up to his eyes, waiting. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to bridge that last little bit of distance and make all of this confusion disappear.

The silence stretched out, fragile and perfect. I closed my eyes for a second, bracing myself for the warmth of his mouth, for the moment everything would change.

But then, he stopped.

I felt his hand pull back, the air cooling where his fingers had almost been. When I opened my eyes, he was standing back again, his face turned away, the mask of cold control snapping back into place.

"You should go to sleep, Maya," he said, his voice low and ragged, like it was killing him to say the words. "It’s late."

I stood there, frozen, and then the fury hit me. It was a hot, stinging rage that made my hands curl into fists. He had brought me to the edge, he had made me feel like the only thing in the world, and then he just walked away?

"That's it?" I shouted, my voice cracking with frustration. "You’re just going to walk away after that? You’re a coward, Jax Worth!"

He didn't turn back. He just kept walking toward the door, his shoulders hunched. "I’m not a coward, Maya. I’m just trying to make sure I don't destroy you."

I watched him go, feeling completely betrayed. I wanted to throw something at his head. I wanted to scream until my lungs burned. But mostly, I just felt empty. I had wanted him to kiss me, and for the first time, I knew with complete, terrifying certainty that he wanted it just as much as I did. He was just too scared of his own feelings to let it happen.

I turned around, kicking at a pile of metal scraps on the floor, and started the long walk back to the house.

The night air felt freezing against my skin, but it didn't help cool down the fire still raging in my mind. Every step I took felt heavier than the last. He thought he was protecting me by keeping his distance, but all he was doing was making everything more complicated.

I went to my room and slammed the door, throwing myself onto the bed. I stared at the ceiling, my heart still racing, my mind replaying the way his hand had almost touched my face, the way his eyes had looked like they were begging me to ask him to stay.

He was a puzzle I was becoming obsessed with solving, a storm I was becoming addicted to standing in.

I realized then that this wasn't about the contract anymore. It wasn't about my mother’s medicine, or the workshop, or the engineering challenge. It was about us. It was about the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention, the way he let his guard down when it was just us in the dark.

I turned onto my side, clutching the pillow to my chest, and felt a single, hot tear slip out of the corner of my eye.

I was furious at him for being so afraid, but I was even more furious at myself for wanting it so badly. I closed my eyes, trying to force myself to sleep, trying to make the image of his face go away, but I knew I would be seeing it for the rest of the night.

He was the most infuriating, arrogant, and dangerous person I had ever met, and I had fallen right into his trap without even trying. The worst part? I was already planning how I was going to get him to come back.