Jax's P.O.V.
I step into the house, tossing my bag onto the couch as the sound of laughter floats in from the kitchen. Sam and Isabella. I can recognize their voices anywhere.
I head toward the sound, finding them perched at the counter, their heads close as they giggle over something on Isabella’s phone. Sam’s coffee mug is full, untouched, and her books are spread out on the counter like she’s been pretending to study. Isabella, on the other hand, looks completely at ease, her long legs crossed as she leans back, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.
“Hey, look who’s home,” Isabella says with a sly smile, her gaze sliding over me in a way that makes my chest tighten. “Perfect timing.”
“For what?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe, trying to sound casual.
Isabella grins.
