Jax didn’t hear a single sound from her room all morning.
Not the soft creak of the floorboards, not the distant clatter of coffee cups in the kitchen—nothing. If it weren’t for the faint light under the door, he might’ve thought she’d left in the night.
But she hadn’t.
She was still in there. Still pretending he didn’t exist.
He leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping stale coffee he’d made just to fill the silence. The kind of silence that clung to the walls and crawled down his spine. The kind that made his gut twist with the familiar sting of helplessness.
He wanted to knock. Say something. Ask if she was okay.
But she wasn’t.
And he sure as hell wasn’t the one she’d want checking in.
The distance between them was wider than ever. And he didn’t know how to bridge it without
