Jax's Little Obsession

Chapter 33

Maya’s Pov

The alarm clock buzzed loudly at seven in the morning, dragging me out of a heavy, dreamless sleep. I rolled over, slammed my hand down on the snooze button, and stared at the calendar hanging on my dorm wall. August twenty-ninth. My birthday.

I let out a long sigh, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. Growing up, birthdays had never been a big deal. When survival was your main daily goal, celebrating another year of breathing felt like a luxury you couldn't afford. My father used to hand me a greasy wrench and say another year meant another year wiser, and that was about it.

I didn't expect anyone to care today, and honestly, I preferred it that way.

By the time I walked into the campus cafeteria for breakfast, Ava was already waiting at our usual table. The second I sat down, she slid a small, neatly wrapped package across the table toward me with a bright grin.

"Happy birthday, Maya!" Ava cheered softly.

I blinked in surprise, staring down at the gift. "Ava, you didn't have to get me anything."

"Open it," she insisted.

I tore open the paper to find a brand-new set of precision screwdrivers, the exact model I had been eyeing at the hardware store for weeks. A genuine smile broke across my face, and I looked up, my chest tightening with gratitude. "Thank you. This is amazing."

Later that afternoon, between lectures, Saige intercepted me near the lockers. He held out a small paper bag with a slightly sheepish grin. "Happy birthday, Maya. Heard it through the grapevine."

I took the bag, opening it to find a rare, out-of-print mechanical engineering manual I had mentioned needing months ago. "Saige, I... thank you. I don't know what to say."

"Just say you'll let me treat you to dinner sometime," he teased gently, giving my shoulder a friendly pat before heading off to his afternoon practice.

Throughout the entire day, my mind kept drifting to one specific person. Jax. We had spent the previous night talking about stepping out of the shadows, and he had promised to show me something. But all day long, he hadn't sent a single text, hadn't dropped by my classes, and hadn't mentioned my birthday once. As the afternoon faded into evening, a dull ache of disappointment started settling into my chest. I told myself I was being stupid for expecting anything different. Jax was a Calloway; he probably had a dozen secretaries tracking corporate schedules, not birthdays. I figured he had simply forgotten.

By ten o’clock at night, I was back in my dorm room, wearing old jeans and a worn sweatshirt, ready to call it a night. Suddenly, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Get outside, the text from an unknown number read. Meet me by the back gate.

My heart did a quick, nervous flip. I grabbed my jacket, hurried down the stairs, and slipped out of the building into the cool night air. Parked near the dark shadow of the brick wall was Jax’s black car. The engine was off, and Jax was leaning against the passenger door, waiting for me. He wore a dark jacket, his face shadowed under the amber streetlights.

"You're late," Jax said as I walked up to him.

"I was already in my pajamas, if you must know," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to hide how fast my heart was racing. "And why are you texting from an unknown number?"

"Security," Jax replied simply. He didn't offer any excuses for his silence all day, didn't wish me a happy birthday, and didn't give away any hints. He just opened the passenger door. "Get in."

We drove in silence through the empty streets, heading away from the university and straight toward the industrial south side. I stared out the window, frustration bubbling up inside me. How could he act so distant all day, and then just summon me like this?

When the car finally slowed down, we weren't at my dorm, and we weren't at the estate. Jax pulled up directly in front of my father’s old workshop.

I frowned, turning to look at him as he cut the engine. "Why are we here, Jax?"

"See for yourself," he murmured, stepping out of the car.

He walked around and opened my door, offering his hand. I ignored it, sliding out of the seat on my own, and marched up to the metal roll-up door of the garage. I grabbed the handle and pushed it open, expecting to find the dark, dusty space I had left behind a few days ago.

Instead, the lights inside flickered on automatically.

I froze on the threshold, the breath completely rushing out of my lungs.

The workshop had been completely transformed. The dust and grime were gone, wiped clean from the concrete floors and metal shelves. But that wasn't what caught my attention. Sitting right in the center of the room, polished to a brilliant, mirror-like shine, was my father’s old motorcycle. The engine had been completely rebuilt, every single scratch buffed out, looking better than it had the day my dad bought it.

And hanging neatly on the wall right above the workbench was a row of framed photographs—old pictures of my parents smiling, working on engines together, pictures I thought had been lost forever in the boxes my mother had hidden away.

Tears instantly welled up in my eyes. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. I turned around slowly, finding Jax standing right behind me in the open doorway, watching me with a quiet, intense vulnerability.

"You... you did this?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"You said this place was the closest thing you had to a home," Jax said softly, taking a step closer. "And you told me once that you didn't expect anyone to remember your birthdays because you always had to fight just to survive. I wanted today to be different. I wanted to remind you that you don't just have a past here, Maya. You have a future."

The emotional dam inside me completely broke. All the walls I had spent my entire life building, all the fierce independence and stubborn pride, shattered into a million pieces.

I didn't wait for him to close the distance. I launched myself forward, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, and crashed my lips against his.

This time, I initiated it. This time, I didn't hold back a single ounce of what I was feeling.

Jax gasped softly in surprise against my mouth, but his strong arms instantly came around my waist, lifting me slightly as he kissed me back with a fierce, burning desperation. The kiss was deep, passionate, and heavy with everything we had been hiding from the world. Every fear, every doubt, every unspoken word melted away in the warmth of his embrace.

When we finally had to pull back for air, we were both breathing heavily. I didn't drop my arms from around his neck. Instead, I rested my forehead gently against his chest, listening to the steady, racing thud of his heart beneath my ear.

Jax raised one hand, his fingers tangling softly in my hair, his voice a low, rough whisper against the quiet of the garage.

"Happy birthday, Little Mechanic."