Chapter 2

The next morning, the air in the loft was thick with unspoken words and the stale smell of their last night. Ava had stayed, a final, raw goodbye that felt more like a habit than a rekindling. Jax was already dressed, smoking by the window, looking out at the city. He turned, his expression carefully neutral. "So, we're clear? No drama when this is official?"

Ava was thirty now. She'd met him at twenty, a girl in ripped jeans and a Ramones t-shirt, eager to trade her gilded cage for his dangerous freedom. "You still think I'm that twenty-year-old, Jax?" she asked, her voice flat.

"Alright, Ava." He stubbed out his cigarette. "This is it. Maybe lay off the whiskey for a bit, huh? We're not exactly spring chickens anymore." The casual cruelty of it tightened something in her chest. She reached for her jacket. "I'm leaving."

As she moved towards the door, he grabbed her arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "Hold up. Storm's rolling in. Bad one. Wait it out." She looked at his hand on her arm, then up at his face. Possessive, even now. Ava remembered her own fire, the spirit he'd both admired and tried to tame. She pulled her arm free. "And how long is this particular storm supposed to last, Jax?" She knew he wasn't talking about the weather. He was talking about Lily.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Ava..." His phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at it. "It's Lily." He answered, his voice softening. "Hey. What's up?... Yeah, I'm here... Okay, okay, calm down." He listened for a moment. "I'll be there." He hung up and turned back to Ava, a new resolve in his eyes. "She's coming over. I think it's better if you two... meet. Get it over with."

Before Ava could protest, or even process, he was making another call. "Yeah, Lily? Just head on up when you get here... No, it's fine." He hung up again. "Ava, this is Lily," he said, preempting her arrival. "She's... not complicated. You're a smart woman, you'll understand. She's genuine. She can't be dragged through the kind of hell you thrived in."

Ava stared at him. Hell? The life they'd built, the life where she'd been his queen, his old lady, styled in the leather and lace he preferred – that was hell? The buzzer rang. Jax went to let Lily in. Lily appeared in the doorway, small and hesitant, her eyes wide. She clutched her purse like a shield. "Jax?" she said, her voice soft. She saw Ava and faltered. "Oh. Hi."

Jax put an arm around Lily's shoulders. "Lily, this is Ava. Ava, Lily." Lily offered a small, nervous smile. Then, Lily's phone rang. She fumbled for it, looking flustered. "Oh, um, excuse me." She answered, her voice tight with distress. "What? The landlord? But I paid... Oh no." She looked at Jax, her eyes welling up. "Jax, Mr. Henderson is saying I'm late on rent, he's threatening to... to change the locks today if I don't sort it." Jax scowled. "That son of a bitch. Alright, don't worry. I'll handle it." He glanced at Ava, a quick, dismissive look. "We'll sort this." He ushered Lily out, his arm protectively around her. "Come on, sweetheart." Ava was left standing alone in the loft, the echo of "sweetheart" ringing in her ears.