The phone buzzed again on the floor. I did not move. Jax tightened his arms around me.
"Leave it," he murmured into my hair.
But it was a pinprick in the perfect dark. A tiny leak of the outside world into our private space.
I shifted just enough to reach down, my fingers finding the cool metal of my phone. I pulled it up and the screen lit our faces.
One new message. From Maya.
Maya: Just checking you are still alive over there.
A small laugh bubbled out of me. I showed Jax the screen.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Tell her you are more than alive."
I typed back a quick thumbs up emoji and let the phone fall to the floor again. This time, I pushed it away with my foot.
The real world was gone.
The deep, heavy exhaustion of the night washed over me. My bones felt like liquid, my mind quiet and still. I melted back into him, into the heat of his skin and the solid wall of his chest.
His lips brushed my temple. "Sleep," he whispered, his own voice thick. "I have you."
I did not need to be told twice. I drifted off, wrapped in the scent of him, woodsmoke and clean sweat and something purely male. The last thing I felt was the steady, strong beat of his heart against my back.
I woke to soft, grey light.
For a moment, I was disoriented. This was not my bed. This was not my ceiling with the familiar crack in the corner. This ceiling was high, with exposed beams.
Then I remembered. The workshop. The table. The couch.
Jax.
I was still on the couch, but a thick, soft blanket had been tucked around me in the night. I was warm and comfortable. I could hear the quiet, familiar sounds of someone moving in a kitchen. The clink of a mug. The gurgle of a coffee maker.
I turned my head.
He was at the small kitchenette, his back to me. He wore only his jeans, slung low on his hips. The muscles of his back and shoulders moved under his skin as he reached for something. The morning light caught the dust motes in the air around him, making him look like a dream.
As if he felt my gaze, he turned.
His eyes found mine immediately. Stormy grey, clear and calm in the morning light.
"Morning," he said. His voice was rough with sleep, a sound that went straight to my core.
"Morning," I whispered back.
He finished what he was doing and walked over with two mugs of coffee. He sat on the edge of the couch beside me and handed me one. Our fingers brushed.
"You sleep okay?" he asked, his eyes searching my face.
I took a sip. The coffee was strong and perfect. "I slept better than I have in years," I said, and it was the absolute truth.
A small, genuine smile touched his lips. He leaned in and kissed me.
We drank our coffee. Our legs were tangled together under the blanket. He rested his hand on my calf, his thumb making slow, absent circles on my skin.
It was the most peaceful I had felt in my entire adult life.
Eventually, I needed the bathroom. He nodded toward a door I had not noticed before, leading to a small, clean bathroom attached to his office space.
When I came out, feeling more human, my dress was folded neatly on the arm of the couch. My underwear was on top. He had picked them up from the floor.
A simple act. It made my throat feel tight.
I got dressed. He pulled on a fresh t shirt from a small duffel bag he had stashed near his desk.
"I will walk you to your car," he said.
We walked through the quiet, early morning streets. The city was just waking up. He held my hand the entire way, his palm warm and sure around mine.
We arrived at my car, parked near his workshop.
Jax turned to look at me.
"Last night," he began, then stopped. He shook his head slightly, as if words were failing him. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. "Thank you for staying."
The gesture was so unexpectedly tender it stole my breath. "My face flushed red"
He leaned in then and kissed me. It was a deep, slow kiss.
When he pulled back, he kept his forehead pressed to mine. "We will talk later?" he said.
"Yes," I said.
I got into my car. I watched him walk away, then sat for a moment, just breathing.
I drove home. My apartment felt too quiet, too empty. It smelled of stale air and my old life. I opened a window.
I took a long, hot shower. The water washed away the last traces of sawdust, but his scent seemed to linger on my skin, in my memory.
I crawled into my own bed, the sheets cool and unfamiliar, and slept a deep, dreamless sleep for a few more hours.
When I woke for the second time, the sun was high. I felt rested. I felt new.
I made tea and checked my phone.
There was a string of excited texts from Maya, which I would answer later. And one new message, sent an hour ago.
Jax: Today feels too long already.
A giddy smile spread across my face. I typed back immediately.
Me: I know. It does.
I put the phone down. The quiet of my apartment was different now.
I had work to do. I am a freelance graphic designer. My home office is a corner of my living room with a big monitor and a drawing tablet. I spent the next few hours deep in a logo design for a new bakery downtown. It felt good to use my hands and my mind for something that was just mine.
In the afternoon, my sister, Lisa, called.
"Hey, are you coming to Mom's birthday dinner on Sunday or are you flaking again?" she asked, her tone light but pointed.
"I'll be there," I said. "I wouldn't miss it."
"Good. Bring a plus-one if you want." I could hear the curiosity in her voice.
"Maybe next time," I said, smiling to myself.
After the call, I finished my work and answered Maya's texts. We made plans to meet for lunch the next day at our favorite spot.