CHAPTER THREE - DONT START WHAT YOU WONT FINISH
705 Words
Dani woke to the smell of burnt toast and the low hum of music vibrating through the floorboards.
Her first instinct was to grab the knife from under her pillow.
Her second was to remember why she needed it.
Jax Maddox was in her apartment.
She groaned into her pillow and kicked off the blankets like they’d personally betrayed her. She was already irritated and she hadn’t even had caffeine yet. Typical.
Pulling her hoodie over her sleep shirt, she padded barefoot into the kitchen.
Jax was at her stove.
Shirtless.
She stopped short.
His tattoos were even more intense than she remembered—bolder, darker, more ink stretching down his ribs and disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. His cut was thrown over the back of a chair like it lived there, and he was poking aggressively at a skillet full of scrambled eggs that looked more like regret.
“Are you trying to ruin my kitchen?” she asked.
“Cooking you breakfast,” he said, without looking back. “Might be s**t, but it’s the thought that counts.”
She snorted. “Yeah, I remember your cooking. That’s how I know this is a threat, not a gesture.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Funny. I remember you didn’t complain last time I fed you.”
Dani’s body locked up like a system glitch. Her fingers curled into fists inside her sleeves.
He was doing it again. Nudging the line. Testing her.
She forced a scoff. “You mean that half-charred grilled cheese in your garage? Classy.”
He turned then—slowly, lazily—and leaned back against the counter like he had no idea he was standing there half-naked and smug as hell.
“Worked though,” he said. “You kept coming back.”
She hated how fast her heart jumped. Hated it more when his words wrapped around her like a noose of memories.
Late nights in the back of the shop. Greasy hands and bruised knuckles. Her legs around his waist. Her name from his mouth like a secret no one was allowed to hear.
No one ever knew.
Not Rico. Not the club. Not even her friends. Whatever they’d had—it had lived in stolen hours and locked doors.
Until he disappeared.
Until he left her without a word.
Dani grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee, pretending her hands weren’t trembling.
“That was a long time ago,” she said coolly.
He stepped closer, voice lower now. “Didn’t feel long.”
She met his eyes. “It felt like nothing.”
Jax’s jaw twitched—just a flicker—but it was enough.
“So that’s what we were?” he asked. “Nothing?”
“We weren’t anything. You made that clear when you vanished.”
He looked away, nostrils flaring, like he wanted to say something and didn’t. Instead, he reached for his own mug and took a long sip.
“Thought about you,” he muttered finally.
Her throat closed up.
She didn’t know how to respond to that. Didn’t know if she wanted to.
So she changed the subject—violently.
“Do not leave your clothes on my chairs,” she said, grabbing his cut and tossing it at his chest.
He caught it one-handed, but his eyes were still locked on her.
“Still got that attitude,” he murmured. “I used to like that about you.”
“You used to like a lot of things about me,” she said. “Didn’t stop you from walking.”
The silence between them stretched, sharp and fragile.
Then the toaster popped.
She turned away before he could see the flush crawling up her neck.
“I’ve got work,” she said. “Don’t get in my way.”
Jax set his mug down. “And tonight?”
She froze.
“What about it?”
“I stay here again.”
She turned halfway, eyebrow arched. “Why? You scared, Maddox?”
His smirk was slow and lethal. “Terrified, sweetheart.”
She hated that her stomach flipped at the way he said it.
Not because it hurt.
Because it felt like home.
- Writer
