The thick midnight air clung to my skin like a damp, suffocating shroud.
I stood at the edge of the estate pool watching the moonlight shatter against the dark, churning water. I was still burning from our earlier confrontation when a voice cut through the air.
"You’re still angry."
The voice was low, devoid of surprise.
I didn't turn because I didn't have to. Jax stood at the edge of the concrete, his chest bare. He held a glass of beer loosely in his hand and spoke as if he was simply reporting the weather.
"I’m not angry," I said, my voice was tight. "I’m just tired, Jax. I’m tired of being right. I’m tired of being ignored."
He moved closer and the soft slap of his bare feet against the stone echoed in the silence. He set the glass down on a nearby table.
"You are not being ig
