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puffins-muffins · 3 days

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Control - The Attraction

Pairing: Jax Teller (AU-ish) x FemaleLawyer!Reader Word Count: ~10,370 Summary: Back in Charming, your return to TM and SAMCRO leaves you feeling a complex mix of nostalgia and anxiety. As Jax's trial approaches, you face mounting pressure from a relentless prosecution and your growing feelings for Jax complicate your focus. Warnings: 18+ only please, cursing, descriptions of anxiety/panic attack. Brief mention of character death(s), Jax (he's his own warning).

A/N: Ommmmgggg you guyyys!! I am blown away by all the love and support for this story! This one was an emotional rollercoaster. It kiiiinnd of got away from me, but with reader back in Charming now, there was a lot that needed to be explored. Feedback always appreciated. Beta'd by myself, all mistakes are my own. Please enjoy it as much as I do!! Part 3, here we go! 💜

Part 1 | Part 2

Sitting at the old diner, the one you and your dad used to frequent for dinners, you stared down at your untouched coffee, the bitter scent rising into the air, tightening the knot that had taken residence in your stomach. You had sworn to yourself years ago that you wouldn’t get pulled back into this world, into the familiar emotional storms. Yet, here you were, back in Charming, with Jax only a few miles away—and that ironclad resolve you once had was starting to fracture.

Your conversation from the interrogation room replayed relentlessly in your mind, Jax’s words as sharp now as when he first said them. “Maybe you’re afraid you’re not over me.” He looked right through you, cutting past your defenses. He had seen the truth in you, that you hadn’t really moved on. Not completely. With one look, he knew it.

You hated that he could still read you so easily, that after all these years apart, he still knew exactly which buttons to press. It was maddening, that sense of vulnerability. You were supposed to be stronger now. Smarter. But being around Jax, it felt like every wall you had built came crumbling down the moment you walked into that room. The way he looked at you—like no time had passed at all—made it impossible to pretend that you didn’t feel the same pull.

Seeing him again brought it all rushing back. The way he used to look at you, the way he made you feel like the world outside didn’t exist when you were together. How he’d made you feel seen and understood, in a way no one else ever had. You spent years trying to fill that void, tried to find that connection with others, but it had never been the same. No one had never been Jax.

You sighed, rubbing your temples, the weight of it all pressing down on you. What was it about him that made it so hard to let go? After everything, after all the pain, the heartbreak, why did being near him still make you feel like you were tethered to him in some unbreakable way?

A familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts, warm and gravelly with a hint of surprise. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You glanced up, finding Wayne Unser standing a few feet away, his worn face cracking into a smile. The knot in your stomach eased, replaced by a wave of nostalgia. You stood, offering a hug that he accepted warmly. “Chief! It’s so good to see you.”

He chuckled as he pulled back, shaking his head. “Ain’t the Chief anymore, darlin’. Haven’t been for some time now.”

You smiled, gesturing toward the empty seat at your table. “You’ll always be the Chief to me,” you said fondly.

He nodded, settling into the chair across from you. There was something comforting about having him here, someone who had always been in your corner and witnessed your life intersect with the club’s chaos.

“I was hoping we’d run into each other while I’m in town.” you said, your tone soft as you folded your hands on the table. “You really saved my ass with that character letter.”

Unser waved it off, his smile fading as he leaned back in the chair. “Would’ve done a lot more if I could’ve. Jax may be in deep, but I’ve known that boy since he was runnin’ around on his tricycle. He’s a good man, even if he’s gotten himself tangled in a mess.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the conversation shift. Unser had always seen the good in Jax, even when others didn’t. And that loyalty was something you admired, but it also made you wonder how much of Jax’s actions over the years Wayne had turned a blind eye to, how much he excused for the sake of it.

“Jax’s world has gotten a lot more complicated,” you said carefully, not wanting to betray the growing unease you felt about the case. “But I think he’s still the same underneath all of it. I just hope I can do enough to get him out of this.”

Unser gave you a long, knowing look, his eyes scanning your face like he was searching for something. “I can tell this ain’t just about the case for you,” he said, voice low but steady. “I remember how you two used to look at each other. It was you and Jax against the world for a while there.”

You glanced down, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, but before you could respond, Unser continued, his tone softer now. “You know I care about Jax. Always have. And I care about you too. I ain’t tryin’ to meddle, but you gotta be careful. That world, it takes more than it gives. And once it gets its hooks in you, it’s hard to break free.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and you found yourself nodding slowly, the truth of what he said sinking in. But you had always known that. You experienced first-hand the toll the club took on people, felt how it could consume everything.

“I know,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I always promised myself I wouldn’t get pulled back in.”

Unser smiled gently, but there was a sadness in his eyes. “Sometimes life has a way of draggin’ us back to the shit we swore we’d never return to. You just gotta make sure it’s what you really want.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “I’m only here to keep him out of prison,” you said, and though you meant it, you could hear the uncertainty in your own voice.

Unser didn’t press further. Instead, he gave a slow nod, his gaze softening with understanding. “Just remember, there’s always a choice, even when it doesn’t feel like it. And I’m around to help anyway I can.”

You offered him a grateful smile. Wayne Unser had always been more than just the town’s chief of police—he had been a guiding presence, a steady hand amid the disorder. And now, even though his health was failing and his role in Charming had changed, he still had that same calming influence.

“Thank you, Chief,” you said sincerely.

He reached across the table, patting your hand gently. “You’re gonna be alright, darlin’. And your Daddy’d be real proud of you. Just keep your head on straight and don’t let that boy take you down with him.”

His words about your dad hit you harder than you anticipated. A familiar ache of loss surged in your chest, and you swallowed thickly, managing a small smile. If he were here, he would be proud of you; he lived and died by this club, loyal to SAMCRO until the bitter end. In ways you hadn’t fully comprehended yet, that loyalty ran deep within you as well.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe you could navigate this, maybe you could keep the line between personal and professional from blurring. But as Unser stood to leave, his words stayed with you, lingering in your mind after he’d walked out the door.

You sat there a while longer, staring at your coffee, knowing that soon enough, you’d have to face the inevitable—Jax, the case, and everything that came with it.

That evening, you sat cross-legged on the hotel bed, your laptop balanced on a stack of case files, the screen glowing in the dimly lit room. The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the silence as you stared at the notes scattered around you, taking a deep breath before unmuting the conference call.

“Alright, Liz,” you said, your voice steady despite the mental whirlwind of information you were trying to process. “Let’s go over what you’ve found so far.”

Liz’s voice crackled through the line, sharp and focused, though you could hear the exhaustion creeping in. You both had been burning the candle at both ends. “First off, the witnesses—they’re falling apart. Like I mentioned earlier, one of them wasn’t even in town on the night of the murder. And the other? He’s changed his story three times now. The prosecution’s trying to hold them together with duct tape and hope.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth as you jotted down notes, but the situation was far from funny. “Good, we’ll shred them on cross. What about the arresting officer? Connolly?”

Liz’s tone shifted, growing more intense. “Connolly’s dirty. Filthy, actually. I tracked down a couple of large deposits made into his account, way beyond his salary. The timing of one deposit matches up almost perfectly with Jax’s arrest.”

Your breath hitched for a second, your pen pausing mid-note. “So he’s being paid off,” you muttered, processing. “We just need to find out who’s pulling his strings.”

“That’s where things get murky,” Liz replied, her voice lowering. “I’ve got leads tying him to a rival MC, but nothing concrete yet. It’s more like whispers. Still digging.”

The mention of the rival MC made your pulse quicken. This wasn’t just a murder case—it was layered with club politics and buried secrets. “If we can prove Connolly’s connection, it could blow the prosecution’s case wide open. Anything on the murder weapon?”

“No sign of it,” Liz said, frustration seeping into her voice. “The cops don’t have it, and no one’s talking.”

You leaned back against the headboard, tapping a pen against your knee as you reviewed your strategy. “We hit them where they’re weakest. Discredit the witnesses—tear their timelines apart. Then expose Connolly’s dirty money and ties to the rival MC. If we paint him as corrupt, we cast enough doubt to cripple their case.”

It was a solid plan, but your mind wasn’t entirely on it. Jax lingered in your thoughts, you hadn’t seen him since you dropped him off at TM, just a few exchanged texts. You knew you were avoiding him—avoiding the way his presence stirred up old feelings.

The case was slipping into something bigger, and you couldn't afford distractions. But no matter how hard you tried, Jax was always there, just under your skin, pulling you closer, and threatening to unravel everything.

Your phone buzzed, jolting you from your thoughts. It was Jax. It was as if he knew he was consuming your mind.

“Heard you’re back in Charming… avoiding me?”

Your stomach tightened. You’d forgotten just how small Charming was—news traveled fast, especially when it involved Jax. A mix of irritation and anxiety settled in as you realized that even without him realizing it, he was forcing you to face everything you’d been trying to avoid. Each moment brought you closer to the inevitable, and despite your best efforts to stay distant, you knew you couldn’t escape it forever.

You stared at the blinking cursor on your phone, but the weight of everything felt overwhelming. Not just Jax—the entire case. Connolly, the witnesses, the unexplained deposits. Something felt wrong. You couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was at play, something corrupt and insidious threading through the heart of this case. But whatever it was, it would all have to wait. First, you had to deal with Jax.

“Everything okay?” Liz’s voice cut through your haze, snapping you back to the present.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your grip on the phone. “Yeah, just a text from Jax. He knows I’m in town.”

There was a pause on the other end, and you could practically hear Liz’s raised eyebrow. “Wow, his ears must’ve been burning. You’ve been avoiding him, haven’t you?”

You let out a short, hollow laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. I’ve been busy with prep, but... it’s more than that.” You pushed yourself off the bed, pacing the room. “The truth is, seeing him again after all this time... it stirs up shit I’ve tried to move past. But I know I can’t keep dodging it forever.”

Liz didn’t press further, always knowing when to hold back. “You’ll handle it. You always do.”

You sat back down on the bed, staring at Jax’s message again. “It’s just… TM, this place, it’s like stepping into a time capsule. It holds all the memories from when everything was simpler. When things weren’t so... complicated.”

Liz was quiet for a moment, then spoke softly. “Do you think he’s changed? Jax, I mean.”

Her question hit deeper than you expected. You’d been avoiding that thought too. From the few moments you’d shared recently, it was clear that life had weighed heavily on him. The charm was still there, but beneath it was a hardness, a fatigue you hadn’t seen before. And yet, the pull between you, the familiarity of him—it was still there, almost as if no time had passed at all.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “Maybe he has, maybe he hasn’t. Part of me thinks he has. The other part knows better.”

Liz was quiet for a beat. “Well, if anyone can navigate this, it’s you. Just… don’t lose yourself in the process.”

You swallowed hard, her words hitting closer to home than you wanted to admit. “I won’t,” you said, more to reassure yourself than to convince her. “Thanks, Liz. You’ve done great work so far. Just promise me you’ll be extra careful. The people we’re looking into are dangerous.”

“Absolutely,” Liz replied, her tone serious. “Just remember, you’re not in this alone.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. “Thank you, that means a lot. I’ll call you after I meet with the club.”

Liz’s tone sharpened. “I’ve got my guard up, don’t worry. I’ll keep pushing on Connolly and the money trail. We’ll crack this.” she added before the line clicked off.

You set the phone down beside you, staring at it for a moment before typing a quick response to Jax.

“Let’s meet tomorrow. Noon. TM.”

You hit send before you could overthink it. There. Done. Now it was just a matter of facing whatever came next. You were confident in your ability to handle the legal side of things, but Jax... that was different. Seeing him again wasn’t just about the case; it was about the past, about unresolved emotions, and the complicated mess of history between you both.

But as you leaned back against the headboard, that familiar knot of uncertainty tightened in your stomach again. Charming felt like a minefield—corruption beneath the surface, power plays behind the scenes. And at the center of it all was Jax, pulling you into something that was about more than just legal strategy.

You weren’t sure what the next day would bring, but one thing was certain: this wasn’t just another case. It was personal, in more ways than one.

And you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you pulled into Teller-Morrow, your stomach twisted with unease. You hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet, and already you felt the weight of the memories pressing down on you. Before you could even gather your courage, the office door swung open, and there she stood—Gemma Teller.

Your breath caught in your throat. Gemma had always been more than just Jax’s mother—she was a force of nature. The history between you two was complex, a mix of respect, tension, and unresolved emotions. She had always wanted Jax to take his rightful place at the head of the club, and at times, you felt like she viewed you as a threat to that vision. She never outright said it, but you could feel it in her looks, her comments, that underlying worry you’d pull Jax away from the life she envisioned for him. In her mind, love was dangerous if it meant her son might stray from the path she’d set for him.

But things hadn’t turned out the way any of you expected. The decisions Jax made, the path the club took—it all happened regardless of your love.

Somehow, you willed yourself out of the safety of your car, and now, standing here in the parking lot, you weren’t sure how Gemma was going to greet you. Would it be the sharp-edged woman who used to see you as a potential obstacle, or the maternal figure who had, at times, treated you like family?

As she approached, her sharp gaze softened slightly when she saw you. There was a flicker of something—recognition, nostalgia maybe—but Gemma being Gemma, it was hard to tell what she was really thinking. She stood there for a moment, looking you over, as if assessing whether time had changed you—or if you were still the same woman she once had a complicated relationship with.

“Well, look who’s back,” Gemma said, her voice laced with that familiar mix of sarcasm and curiosity. Her eyes scanned you, and though her expression remained unreadable, you could feel the weight of her scrutiny. She hadn’t lost her edge.

“Gemma,” you said, stepping forward, trying to keep your voice steady, even though your heart was pounding. “It’s good to see you.”

For a split second, the tension hung in the air. Then, to your surprise, her lips curled into a half-smile, and she pulled you into a hug. It wasn’t warm exactly, but it wasn’t cold either. It was… familiar.

“You too, baby,” she said softly, her tone just a little gentler than you expected. When she pulled back, her eyes locked onto yours, searching for something, though you couldn’t quite tell what. “Missed having you around here.”

Her words caught you off guard, but you nodded, unsure of how to respond. The history between you both was too complicated for simple pleasantries. Gemma folded her arms, giving you another long look. “You still look good, kid. All grown up. Life must be treating you well out there.”

“Something like that,” you replied, offering a faint smile. You wanted to say more, but any words caught in your throat.

She raised an eyebrow, and you could feel her probing deeper, looking past your words to the things you weren’t saying. “I know coming back here ain’t easy for you,” she said, her voice lowering, all traces of humor gone. “Lotta ghosts, I’m sure. But Jax needs you, sweetheart.”

There it was. Gemma was always three steps ahead, and this time, she was trying to use your own feelings against you. She wasn’t just reminding you of your connection to Jax; she was weaponizing it. Like she always did when she wanted something.

But this time, you saw it clearly. Years ago, you might have let her play on the soft spots you had for Jax without even realizing it. Back then, you were less guarded, still figuring out how to navigate people like Gemma. But now? Now you were older, sharper, and you understood her game better than you ever had before.

Then again, with Gemma, it was always about Jax first and foremost. Beneath the tension, there was a quiet, unspoken respect between you—born from your shared loyalty to him. And you almost couldn’t fault her because of it.

Almost.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, instead forcing the sweetest fake smile you could manage. “I’m here to help,” you said, your tone flat but polite.

Gemma studied you for another long moment before she nodded, her expression softening just a bit. “Good.” She gestured toward the clubhouse with a tilt of her head. “They’re inside. Go on in, baby.”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of everything you were about to walk into. Then, with a deep breath, you headed toward the clubhouse, knowing that the real test was just beginning.

The door creaked open, and you stepped inside, feeling a wave of familiarity wash over you. The air was thick with the scent of leather, motor oil, and the faint tang of beer and cigarettes. It was captivating, pulling you back in time. Memories rushed in—laughter echoing through the halls, heated arguments by the bar, the camaraderie that once filled every corner. The nostalgia was almost too much to bear.

The room hummed with energy, a mix of business and brotherhood. Heads turned when you walked in, the club members greeted you with expressions that ranged from curiosity to warmth. Jax stood near the bar, flanked by Chibs and Tig. His body language was casual, but the moment his eyes locked onto yours, everything seemed to shift. That tension, the current that had always existed between you, surged again. You felt it deep in your gut, that familiar flutter that left you off balance.

"Look who finally decided to show up!" Tig's voice cut through the room, teasing and lighthearted, a grin spreading across his face. He approached quickly, pulling you into a tight side hug and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Thought we'd have to send out a search party."

You forced a smile, trying to push down the knot in your chest. "Guess I couldn’t stay away forever, huh?"

Chibs was next, stepping forward with his usual warmth, his broad shoulders a comforting sight. "Good to see ye, lass," he said, pulling you in for a brief but solid hug. His embrace steadied you, easing the tension just a little.

"You too, Chibs," you replied, your voice steadying as you caught sight of the "Sergeant-at-Arms" patch across his chest. He was still looking after his brother, still his protector.

And then there was Jax. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the bar, his posture relaxed, but his eyes—those piercing blues—were locked onto you, unreadable yet intense. Something flickered in them as he watched you cross the room. Anticipation? Vulnerability? You couldn’t quite place it, but it made your heart race.

“Hey,” Jax said, his voice low and calm, offering a nod that felt almost casual—except for the way his gaze held yours, unrelenting.

“Hey,” you replied, forcing a lightness into your tone that didn’t match the way your chest tightened. It didn’t feel casual. Not with him standing there, the weight of his presence bearing down on you, making the room feel smaller.

Looking impossibly good in his leather kutte, worn and weathered, clinging to him like a second skin. His broad shoulders were more defined than you remembered, the white T-shirt underneath emphasizing the lean muscle that flexed with his every subtle movement. His jeans hung low on his hips, and at his side, the knife that once belonged to his father—a reminder of the life he was born into. But in contrast to the rough edges, his signature white Nikes were spotless, a small, almost ironic sign of the control he still maintained amidst all the mayhem.

With that familiar boyish smile tugging at his lips, and his gaze holding you captive, it felt like time hadn’t moved at all. The pull between you, always there, had only intensified. His eyes swept over you, lingering just long enough to make your breath catch, and in that moment, your carefully built defenses began to dismantle.

Jax didn’t need to say anything for you to feel it—the connection, the history. And as you stood there, caught in his gaze, you realized just how much power he still held over you.

Exhaling a shaky breath, a familiar towering figure stepped into your space. Opie stood before you, his presence bringing you back instantly. His eyes were soft but filled with gratitude, and though he didn’t say much, you could feel the depth of his emotion.

Without a word, he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms strong and comforting around you. The weight of everything seemed to ease as you leaned into him. There was something solid, unwavering about Opie—his presence had always been a source of quiet brotherly strength.

He pulled back, just slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looked you over. There was no need for words between you. You could feel what he was saying in the look he gave you—a silent thank you, for being here, for standing by Jax. It wasn’t easy, and he knew it.

“Ope,” you said quietly, your fingers gently brushing over the VP patch stitched into his kutte. He nodded, his gaze softening even more. He didn’t need to say it; you knew he appreciated you more than words could express.

After a beat, he released you with a gentle pat on the shoulder, stepping back but keeping that connection between you.

You finished greeting the rest of the Sons, taking in Happy and Juice for the first time, while Jax stood nearby, arms crossed, his posture casual but his eyes sharp. He gave a quick introduction. “Juice is sort of our intelligence officer,” he said, nodding toward the younger man with a smirk. “Anything you or your girl need, he’s your guy.”

You gave Juice a polite smile, but your mind was racing, struggling to process everything around you. The room was filled with faces—some familiar, some new—each one stirring a different emotion. Jax’s voice broke through the noise in your head, steady and low as he filled you in on what you’d missed. He listed off Bobby, currently away in Vegas on an Elvis gig, Piney’s tragic death, and then, quieter, Clay’s betrayal and eventual demise. These weren’t just updates—they were the scars the club carried, and you could feel the toll it had taken on them.

Your eyes flicked to Opie, a silent understanding passed between you. Piney’s death wasn’t just a club loss—it was deeply personal, and you could see the weight of it in Opie’s eyes. There were no words needed. Just that brief acknowledgment of everything you’d both lost due to this life.

You glanced around the room as he spoke, the walls lined with mugshots and memories. There was more than you remembered, each one a stark reminder of the lives that had been lost or altered. Jax’s voice, though calm, carried the heavy toll of everything that had happened. “We’ve had to rebuild… but we’re still standing.”

You nodded, trying to absorb it all, but the sheer weight of the club’s history left you spinning. So much had changed, and yet, in so many ways, everything felt the same. The familiarity of it—the faces, the raw energy of the room—only made the losses hit harder. Processing Jax’s brief rundown of the club’s last decade felt like trying to catch your breath while drowning. The room felt entirely too small, the air thicker with years of grief, brotherhood, and blood.

Your chest tightened, and suddenly the noise of the room faded, replaced by a suffocating sense of overwhelm. The memories of your dad, the endless cycle of loyalty and sacrifice, the faces you used to know—it all crashed into you at once, relentless and unyielding. You could feel your pulse quicken, your breath becoming shallow. The walls felt like they were closing in, the weight of the past pressing down on you, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop the anxiety from bubbling up.

Your hands trembled as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, desperate for an escape. “Hey, do you guys mind? I need to check in with my office real quick,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though your voice was tight and strained. Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and headed for the door, the room suddenly too stifling.

The warm air hit your skin as you stepped outside, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside. You hurried to the side of the building, out of sight, and leaned against the rough brick wall, your breaths coming in shallow, rapid bursts.

You pressed your trembling hands to your chest, willing your body to calm down, but the tightness only worsened. The faces inside, the ghosts of the past, the changes you hadn’t been there to see—it all swirled around you. And Jax, standing there like a god damn living reminder of everything you’d tried to move on from, only made it harder.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, and your vision narrowed as the panic surged through you. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on your breathing, but each one felt like you were dragging it through quicksand. The edges of your vision blurred as you fought to keep from losing control entirely.

You pressed your back harder into the wall, as if grounding yourself to something solid would keep you from slipping under. One breath, then another. But the waves kept coming, relentless, and all you could do was ride it out.

Lost in your desperate attempt to control your thoughts, Jax’s sudden appearance startled you. “Jesus Christ, Jax!” you gasped, “Can’t a girl have a panic attack in peace!?”

The humor was your defense, but he saw right through it. His eyes softened, and he took a small step closer, his expression full of quiet concern, no judgment in his gaze.

“These still happening?” His voice was gentle, like he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from you.

You shook your head slowly, trying to reassure him—or maybe yourself. “It’s been a while,” you admitted. And it had been. The panic attacks hadn’t started until after your dad’s funeral, when the weight of everything had finally come crashing down on you. They had been rare since then, but being here—back in the thick of it—was bringing it all back.

Jax had been there for the first one. You could still feel the memory of his hands cupping your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he’d tried to steady you.

“Just breathe, Pep. You’re alright, baby,” he’d murmured, his voice strong yet soft, grounding you as you fought for air. His hands held you like an anchor, keeping you planted in the present, calming the storm raging inside you.

You could see in his eyes now that he wanted to do it again—grip your face, hold you still, remind you how to breathe—but he resisted, just watching you carefully, giving you space to pull yourself back together.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, voice softer now, the edge of panic slowly retreating.

Jax nodded, his gaze never wavering, his presence a quiet reassurance. He didn’t push, didn’t offer words that would feel too heavy right now. He just stood there, close enough that you could feel him, the steady hum of him calming the storm inside you like it always had.

As the tightness in your chest began to ease, you exhaled slowly, embedding yourself in the present. Jax stayed where he was, steady and familiar. You didn’t have to look up to know his eyes were still on you, watching patiently, waiting for you to be ready.

You shifted, pushing your hair back, trying to regain your composure. “So,” you began, your voice a little uneven, “that crash course in club history… it left out a lot.”

A small, knowing smile tugged at Jax’s lips. “Figured I’d save the rest for when you weren’t looking like you were about to bolt.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You really know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

He shrugged, taking a small step closer. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question. He had always been good at saying what mattered without actually saying it. You nodded, meeting his gaze. The air between you was charged, but somehow, it felt a little easier now.

Jax leaned against the wall beside you, his shoulder just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Neither of you spoke—just stood in the weight of all that had changed, all that remained. Despite the years and distance, there was a strange comfort in the quiet, a reminder of the bond that never really broke.

“I didn’t know it would be like this,” your voice barely above a whisper. “Coming back.”

He glanced over at you, his eyes softening. “It’s different now. A lot’s changed.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Yeah,” you murmured, not elaborating because you didn’t need to. He understood. He always did.

Jax shifted slightly, his arm brushing yours in a way that felt intentional but not forceful. “But some things are still the same,” he said, his voice carrying a comfort that felt like home.

You turned your head, really looking at him this time. And in that moment, you realized nothing had changed between you, not really. All the ways Jax made you feel alive were still there, as intense as ever, threading their way through this version of you. The laughter you’d shared, the unguarded moments, all echoed in your mind, reminding you of why it had been so easy to love him all those years ago.

You were screwed.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Some things.”

Jax held your gaze, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip. He nodded slightly, then asked, “You ready to head back in?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah,” you said, forcing a small fake smile. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He straightened up, extending his hand to you. It wasn’t just a simple gesture—it was an offer of solidarity, a bridge between the past and the present. You hesitated. You knew what taking his hand meant. It wasn’t just comfort—it was an acknowledgment of everything that once existed between you, everything that still lingered.

And those hands, rough, calloused—the hands that had held you, commanded you, loved you. Memories surged, the way those hands used to move over your body, strong but gentle, leaving you breathless in ways that no one else ever could. Your pulse quickened at the thought, your body remembering what your mind tried to suppress.

You considered pulling back, keeping the distance you’d carefully built to protect yourself. But there was something in his gaze—steadfast, patient—that made you relent. Maybe it was the silent promise of understanding, or maybe it was the sense that, for once, you didn’t have to face it all alone.

As you slid your hand into his palm, the rush of contact sent a familiar ache through you. Like touching a live wire, the sensation both comforting and dangerous at the same time.

The years between you seemed to dissolve, and it felt like you were back to a time when holding his hand meant safety, when it felt like the most natural thing in the world. But now, that safety was bittersweet, tangled up with all the things that had changed, things you couldn’t undo.

As you walked back inside together, your nerves slowly steadied, but not entirely. The weight of what came next crashing around you—a shift from personal to professional that you weren’t sure you could make seamlessly.

The Sons were already moving toward the meeting room, a familiar rhythm as they filed in one by one. You hesitated for a moment as you approached the double wooden doors that separated the main hall from the room where so many decisions had been made. It was the heart of SAMCRO, a place where only full patch members were allowed, unless invited. As Jax walked ahead, he turned to you, his eyes locking with yours. An unspoken acknowledgment of that invitation passing between you.

You took a steady breath, following Jax’s lead as he gestured for the others to remove their electronic gear. Phones, watches, anything that could transmit or record was left behind on the counter by the door. A small but necessary security measure, one that reminded you just how serious things were.

Jax stepped aside, letting you enter first—a show of respect that didn’t go unnoticed. As you crossed the threshold, your pulse quickened, your thoughts rushing back to the task at hand—his defense, the case you needed to build. Yet despite your professional focus, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something far more personal.

The familiar room unfolded before you: a heavy wooden table at its center, surrounded by chairs reserved for the members. The walls were lined with SAMCRO memorabilia, chronicling the club’s long history. Every detail brought back memories of the countless times you’d been outside those doors, waiting, wondering what decisions were being made. Now, you were stepping inside, reentering the world you once fought so hard to leave behind.

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing you in with the weight of the past and the uncertainty of what was to come. Jax pulled out a chair, motioning for you to sit. You took it, keeping your focus on the task at hand, even as the memories swirled around you. You knew this was only the beginning, both in the case and in facing what the two of you had left unresolved.

As Jax moved to the head of the table, it hit you all over again—he wasn’t just a member of this club anymore. He was the club, its leader, its heart, and its future. The sight of him in that spot—the president’s chair—was jarring, a far cry from the man you once knew who had always been just a step behind the power, always questioning his place in it. Now, though, he settled into that chair like he’d been there forever, like it was made for him.

Seeing Jax there for the first time sent a wave of emotions through you, some you couldn’t even name. He exuded authority, a quiet, undeniable control over the room. The way the guys around him, men you’d known for years, deferred to him without question told you everything about how he commanded respect—something he’d always struggled with when Clay was in charge. But this Jax was different. He had the weight of leadership on his shoulders, and it suited him, in a way that made you ache with want.

There was no denying the way his presence filled the room, his hands resting on the table with that same quiet strength you’d seen so many times before. He didn’t need to speak to demand attention; the sheer force of his presence did that for him. The patches on his kutte—his Reaper, President, Redwood Original—seemed to glow under the low lighting, a reminder of all he’d earned, all he’d sacrificed to sit where he was now.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus, but seeing Jax in that seat brought up more than just memories. It aroused something deeper inside you, something visceral and complicated, something you felt like you wanted to explore.

This was his world now; one you weren’t sure you could navigate the same way. But as his eyes met yours across the table, there was a flicker of the Jax you’d always known, the one who would burn the world down to protect the people he loved. And at the center of that, was you.

No matter how much time had passed, how much had changed, you could feel it. The invisible thread that tied you to him, pulling tight in moments like this. You’d tried to sever it, tried to walk away from it—but here you were, sitting across from him, feeling every bit as connected as ever. Jax might command the club now, but in that brief, intense exchange of glances, you realized you still commanded a part of him too.

The meeting was intense but productive. You stood among the Sons, the weight of their stares heavy upon you as you recapped everything uncovered so far. Tension and anticipation filled the room as you detailed the rival MC you suspected might be involved in Jax’s case and the corruption within Charming.

As you spoke, your voice steady and confident, you felt the atmosphere shift. The men leaned in, their focus entirely on you, absorbing every word. Jax watched from his spot at the table, his expression a mix of admiration and intensity. There was something powerful in the way you controlled their attention, the confidence radiating off you. In that moment, you were no longer just a part of this world; you were a force within it, and he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for the woman standing before him, unflinching and resolute.

With determination, you laid out the plan. The club would work their angles, gathering intel the way they did. “But,” you said firmly, your tone leaving no room for debate, “you guys have to stay out of trouble. Jax’s freedom absolutely depends on it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks passed in a blur of pre-trial motions and legal preparation. You were constantly on the move—drafting briefs, reviewing discovery, and prepping witnesses for deposition. Every day felt like a strategic sprint, as you meticulously crafted arguments and counterarguments, anticipating the prosecution’s next move. Each court appearance was a balancing act, maintaining a sharp, composed professionalism—all while bearing the emotional weight that hung over everything. The late nights spent strategizing with Liz felt endless as she continued to uncover more leads, but the pressure mounted with each passing day.

Amid the whirlwind of legal battles, your connection with Jax grew deeper than you’d expected. Late nights over drinks became the norm—what started as case discussions often shifted to more personal conversations. You found yourself sharing pieces of your life beyond Charming, and Jax listened intently. The barriers you’d kept up for so long were starting to crack. Lingering looks, brief touches—each one drawing you closer. The tension between you was impossible to ignore, even if neither of you said it aloud. And quietly, you began to rely on him more than you ever thought you would.

As you and Jax grew closer, you struggled to keep your emotional defenses intact, fully aware of the dangerous game you were playing. Your heart was betraying your mind, and you understood the potential consequences. You had always been flexible with boundaries when the situation called for it—that’s what made you so damn good at your job. But getting involved with Jax beyond the attorney-client relationship felt like a line you couldn’t afford to cross. Every moment with him brought you closer to that boundary, and despite your reservations, the gravitational pull between you was undeniable.

The trial date had finally been set, but the initial relief quickly turned to dread when you learned about the judge—one notoriously known for his stance against offenders like Jax. His reputation sent a wave of unease through you. Renowned for being a stickler for the law, he rarely exhibited leniency toward defendants with ties to criminal organizations—alleged or otherwise, and you understood that this was a significant setback for Jax’s defense. It was clear that drastic action was needed.

As you prepared for the next hearing, the reality of the situation became increasingly daunting. The prosecution had seemingly stacked the deck against Jax, armed with an overwhelming trove of evidence that you knew was questionable at best. Witnesses had been lined up, all poised to testify against him, yet you sensed that many had been coerced or incentivized to provide testimony that would serve the state’s narrative. The prosecution’s strategy relied on the judge's reputation to sway the jury, and you felt the walls closing in around you.

In court, you stood confidently to argue for a change of venue, fully aware this was your last-ditch effort to tilt the scales of justice. Jax sat at the defense table behind you, his presence a steadying force as you gathered your thoughts. Despite the anxiety churning in your gut, you felt empowered, ready to make your case.

“Your Honor,” you began, your voice steady but laced with urgency, “given the high-profile nature of this case and the appointment of Judge Hartford—who has a well-documented history of issuing disproportionately severe rulings in cases of this nature—my client cannot be assured a fair trial in this jurisdiction. Furthermore, the prosecution’s evidence, while admitted, raises substantial concerns regarding its reliability. Key pieces of evidence rest on circumstantial foundations and are bolstered by questionable witness testimony, which has been accepted without the necessary scrutiny.”

You paused, gauging the judge's reaction as the courtroom remained silent. “This is not about deflecting responsibility, Your Honor, but about upholding the principle of impartial justice. Mr. Teller is entitled to a fair and unbiased trial, and the current circumstances of these proceedings threaten to undermine that right.”

The judge’s gaze hardened as he responded, his tone sharp and unyielding. “Counselor, while you present a well-prepared argument, your concerns do not rise to the level required for a change of venue. Your assertion that this court, or any court within this jurisdiction, is incapable of impartiality due to unrelated past cases is both unfounded and inappropriate. I will not tolerate further implications of bias. The trial will proceed here, as scheduled, and I expect you to adhere to the procedural standards of this court.”

The weight of disappointment crashed over you as the motion was denied. The trial would move forward under conditions that were not only unfavorable but also potentially unjust, given the prosecution's ability to present suspicious evidence without proper challenge. You knew that each piece of evidence they had, whether it stemmed from questionable chain-of-custody practices or testimonies that lacked verifiable credibility, posed a significant threat to your case.

Returning to Jax's side, you were left with the grim realization that navigating this battlefield required you not only to confront legal obstacles but also to expose potential ethical violations. The clock was ticking, and you needed to dismantle their narrative before the trial commenced, safeguarding not only Jax’s freedom but also the integrity of the legal system itself.

It was late afternoon when you finally emerged from the courthouse, frustration and exhaustion churning within you like a storm. The hearing had unfolded predictably, which was to say, not in your favor. You clenched your jaw, muttering under your breath about the judge’s dismissive demeanor and the uphill battle that lay ahead. Jax was waiting for you just outside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his relaxed posture standing in stark contrast to your tight, wound-up demeanor.

As you approached, he sensed the tension radiating off you, an electric charge around you. His expression shifted from concern to mischief, a glint of playful defiance in his eyes. “You know, for such a pretty lady, you’ve got a seriously intimidating scowl going on there,” he teased, an easy smile spreading across his face.

You shot him a sharp glare, irritation bubbling to the surface. “Thanks for the insightful observation, Jax. I’m glad you’re here to help me manage my emotions.”

“I’m just saying, you might want to dial it down a bit before you scare someone.” He stepped closer, tilting his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, annoyance deepening. “God, you’re annoying sometimes.”

His grin widened. “I’d forgotten how adorable you look when you’re this pissed off.”

You snorted at that. “Adorable?” the word felt strange on your tongue, a jarring contrast to the storm of frustration brewing inside you. “I’m not trying to be adorable; I’m trying to do my job.”

“Hey, doing your job doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun along the way,” he teased, stepping back with his hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m just looking out for you. Can’t have you getting all worked up like this, Pepper.”

His charm only fueled your frustration further. “I’m trying to keep everything from falling apart here, Jax. There’s a lot of pressure—”

“And you’re doing a fantastic job of it!” he exclaimed, his tone light yet sincere. “Look at you, holding it all together.” He paused, letting the moment linger. “But if you want a break from holding it all together, I’m here for that, too.”

Your lips twitched at the corners, and you fought to maintain your stern facade. “Are you trying to distract me from being angry right now?”

“Is it working?” he countered, a confident grin plastered across his face.

You let out a reluctant laugh, shaking your head as the frustration began to dissolve. You resolved, playfully lying, “No.”

Jax walked you to your car, his bike parked just a few spaces away. The tension hung between you like a heavy fog, unspoken thoughts swirling in the silence before he finally broke it, his expression shifting. His usual easy charm was tempered by something more serious, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Are things really that bad? How worried should I be after that?” he asked, his voice lower, almost cautious.

You noticed the concern on his face—his jaw tight, eyes searching yours for reassurance. It was rare to see him like this, letting his guard down enough to show he was unsettled. That weight sat heavy between you, and despite the deepening connection, you reminded yourself that it was your job to protect him, to keep him steady when things felt like they might tip over.

Sighing, you offered a small smile, forcing yourself to sound more certain than you felt. “It’s not ideal,” you admitted, “but I’ve handled worse. I wouldn’t lose sleep over it yet.”

Jax studied you for a moment, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “Good to hear,” he said, his voice softening.

You saw the tension in his shoulders ease, though you weren’t sure if it was because of your words or his faith in you. Either way, you resolved in that moment—to keep him from worrying, even if it meant keeping some of your own doubts to yourself.

“Hey,” he said, a familiar glint of mischief flickering in his eyes. “Your hotel isn’t far from here, is it?”

You frowned, caught off guard. “No, why?”

“Well,” he continued, leaning in a fraction closer, “how would you feel if I followed you back there? You could change and we can go for a ride on the bike. You know, like we used to.”

His suggestion lingered in the air, tempting yet charged with unspoken implications. Your heart raced at the thought, memories of past rides flooding back—the exhilarating rush of freedom and the undeniable chemistry between you. The idea was thrilling yet daunting, nostalgia mingling with the weight of your current reality.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to conceal your intrigue behind skepticism. “And you think a ride will magically fix everything?”

Jax shrugged, his grin unwavering. “Not fix everything, but it could help clear your head. It always did the trick before.”

You hesitated, your thoughts tangled in the mounting pressure from the trial and the stress that had built over the past weeks. “I don’t know, Jax. I have a lot to review tonight.”

“I understand,” he said, his tone softening. “But sometimes you need to step away from it all. Just one ride won’t hurt, right?”

As your eyes met, the noise of the world around you faded into the background. The thought of escaping, even for a little while, tugged at something in you. You could feel the tension in your chest loosening, if only slightly. The familiarity of being with Jax was hard to resist, especially with comforting memories of the past washing over you like a warm wave.

Your mind recalled that Saturday afternoon, so long ago, when he first convinced you to ride with him. Each ride after had only drawn you closer, igniting feelings you still didn’t fully understand to this day. The thrill of the road had always served as a backdrop for something much deeper between you.

Finally, you sighed, allowing your frustration to slip away. “Fine. But just a quick ride.”

“Awesome,” he said, barely containing his excitement as he moved back toward his bike. “I promise to get you back before the next crisis hits.”

A smile broke through your frustration, a flicker of joy emerging. Climbing into your car, you felt a mix of anticipation and lingering anxiety. As you drove, you glanced in the rearview mirror, watching Jax follow closely behind on his bike, a feeling of calm and safety washed over you.

When you reached your hotel, you parked and hurried inside, your heart racing not just from the thrill of the ride ahead but from the possibilities it held. After quickly changing into a t-shirt and jeans, you grabbed your jacket and stepped outside, the late evening sun casting a golden hue over everything.

Jax was waiting, his eyes lighting up as you emerged into the fading day. The way he looked at you sent a thrill coursing through your body.

You noticed the way his gaze roamed over you, his eyes tracing every detail as you moved with effortless confidence, dressed casually, more like the woman he knew all those years ago. The soft fabric of your shirt hugged your curves in all the right places, accentuating the changes that time had brought—subtle hints of maturity that only made you more intoxicating. He couldn’t help but admire how you carried yourself, a blend of poise and sensuality that sent a rush of heat coursing through him.

Every glance at you stirred something primal within him. Your smile lit up your face, and the glint in your eyes held a promise of mischief and tenderness. The way your hair fell perfectly around you, the subtle sway of your hips—it all drew him in. In that moment, you weren’t just a familiar face; you were a vision that awakened his deepest cravings, leaving him breathless with anticipation for what was to come.

“You look amazing, Pep,” he said, punctuating his words with a low whistle and an extra charming wink.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat of arousal spread through you at his compliment and the way his gaze devoured you. “Let’s just ride, Teller.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he replied, a hint of playfulness in his tone. Climbing onto the bike behind him, excitement surged through you, a heady mix of nerves and joy. You wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling the heat radiating from him, grounding you in a way that was both comforting and exhilarating. The smell of him was almost dizzying, an enticing blend of leather and spice, wrapped in the warm musk of his skin, it was utterly captivating. It all felt instinctual, as if you had never truly been apart.

As the bike surged forward, the hum of the engine vibrated beneath you, its power rolling through your body in waves. The sensation was addictive. You’d forgotten how freeing this felt—how the road opened ahead, inviting you into a world where nothing existed but the rush of air, the growl of the machine, and the strength of Jax’s body in front of you.

Your grip around his waist tightened instinctively, your hands resting against his toned frame, feeling the flex of muscle as he controlled the bike with effortless skill. The wind whipped through your hair, tugging at the strands, as you leaned into the turns, trusting him completely. With every curve of the road, you were reminded of just how alive you felt on the back of his bike, a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself to experience in years.

The exhilaration flooded your senses, making your pulse race, your skin buzz. There was something thrilling about the speed, the raw power beneath you—and about being this connected to him again. Your body molded against his in a way that felt too natural, too right. You had forgotten how good this was, how good he felt. The familiar heat that always simmered between you both seemed to flare to life like a spark catching fire.

Each time his hand drifted back to yours to give a reassuring squeeze, it sent a jolt through your chest, a shock that had nothing to do with the bike and everything to do with the man in front of you. The scent of leather and Jax enveloping around you—a reminder of what you’d once had, what you’d always been drawn to. His strength, his recklessness, his loyalty.

The road stretched out ahead, but all you could focus on was him—his presence, his warmth, the pull of gravity that seemed to bring you closer with every mile. There was a tension building, a storm brewing in the spaces between you, and it wasn’t just about the ride. It was about him—the way he made you feel alive, dangerous, wanted.

And as the miles flew by, the line between the past and present blurred completely. Jax had always had this effect on you, waking something wild and unrestrained. The longer you stayed on that bike, the more you realized that no matter how much you had tried to distance yourself from him, from this, the connection was still there—burning hotter and brighter than ever. And you weren’t sure you wanted to fight it anymore.

As he parked the bike and cut the engine, the world around you faded into a distant hum, the adrenaline from the ride coursing through your veins like molten lava. You climbed off, laughter bubbling up inside you as you pulled off the helmet, shaking your hair loose. The wind had turned it into a wild, tousled halo framing your face, and in that moment, you felt liberated from the weight of your worries.

Jax inched closer, his body radiating heat that contrasted with the cool evening air. His eyes roamed over you, a smirk playing on his lips, and then he closed the distance, brushing a few loose strands behind your ear with a lingering touch. The simple act sent a thrill racing through your body, his fingers lingered against your skin, an intense reminder of how easily you could lose yourself in him.

“You’ve got that wild look going on,” he said, his voice a low, sultry whisper, laced with playful mischief. “Like the rebellious girl I fell for when I was seventeen.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, a rush of desire surging within you at the memory of that time—free, untamed, and filled with reckless abandon. The way he looked at you now sparked a forgotten excitement, coaxing out a spirit you hadn’t tapped into in years.

“Sometimes I really miss her,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it aloud made it even more real. You felt a pang of nostalgia, remembering the thrill of those carefree days and the adventurous essence that had once defined you.

Jax’s body pressed against yours in a way that sent sparks flying. He leaned in, his gaze locked onto yours, smoldering with an intensity that made your heart race. The air around you thickened with anticipation, that irresistible force drawing you together, the world around you fading away.

“Just so you know,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, heavy with longing, “I’ve always thought you looked hotter with a little chaos in your hair.”

The tension hung thick, saturated with desire. As you tilted your head back, your breath quickened, every nerve in your body alight with need. Just as his lips hovered dangerously close to yours, your phone buzzed violently against your thigh, shattering the moment like glass. You instinctively pulled away, breathless and disoriented.

You fumbled for your phone, your heart pounding in your chest as you glanced at the screen. Liz’s name flashed, accompanied by an urgent message:

“The prosecution just entered new evidence. We need to discuss our strategy ASAP.”

The weight of her text crashed down on you, extinguishing the fire that had been lit between you and Jax. You felt the immediate shift in your mood, the walls you’d been trying to keep at bay rising once more as reality flooded back in, cold and harsh.

“Everything okay?” Jax asked, his tone shifting from playful to concerned, the light in his eyes dimming slightly as he took a step back.

“Yeah, just… work,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Looks like we’re going to have a long night.”

A shadow of disappointment crossing his features. “Guess the joyride is over then,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, but you could sense the frustration in his posture.

You felt a pang of regret for what had almost happened between you, a moment that could have shifted everything. The chemistry that hung in the air was thick, the desire still radiating through you both, but the reminder of your responsibilities loomed large.

“Jax, I—” you began, but the words faltered on your lips. You felt the weight of responsibility, reminding you to keep your focus on the case, but the yearning in his gaze held you captive, making it nearly impossible to look away.

“Handle it,” he replied, his voice steady yet laced with an undertone of something softer—an understanding tinged with disappointment. “I’ll be here when you’re ready for another ride, Pep.” His hand brushed against your cheek, leaving a trail of heat that lingered softly. The gentle caress sparked a rush of emotions within you, evoking the depth of the connection you shared.

His words carried a double meaning that made your stomach flip-flop. You turned away, feeling the heaviness in your chest swell. The exhilaration of the ride and the tantalizing near-kiss lingered, but now they felt like fading echoes, drowned out by the harsh reality of the battle looming ahead. The bond you shared with Jax was enthralling, yet the stakes of his defense demanded your undivided attention, pulling you back into the relentless world of law where every decision carried the weight of consequences.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. The unresolved tension of what had just occurred lingered in the air, heavy with potential and yearning for a resolution.

#jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller fic #jax teller x you #jax teller fanfiction #charlie hunnam #soa au #soa fic #charlie hunnam characters #jax and pepper #jax teller au

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syntheticavenger · 4 months

Text

On My Mama - Three

A special thank you to @mrsmischief209 @flordeamatista @negronispagliato for helping with language translation and @cocobutterqwueen for cheering me on with the plot!

Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x Female Reader

Tyler Rake x Female Reader

Andy Barber x Female Reader

Jax Teller x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, breeding kink (brief), jealousy, angst, mentions of divorce, co-parenting.

Summary | Being a single mom with a complicated relationship with your ex-husband makes for an interesting summer after a school event and an unexpected errand puts you front and center with some eligible contenders for your attention.

“Mommy, look! They have horsies!” Mia squeaks, pointing as Santiago holds her close so that she doesn’t tip over, mesmerized as a horse gallops by the big window. “Daddy, do you see the horsies?!”

“I do see them,” Santiago agrees, kissing the crown of her head affectionately. “We have to finish the tour, mini.”

Sister Catherine Francis stands next to you, the school administrator smiling at the sweet moment between father and daughter. Admittedly, the tour has been impressive. Beside the stables, there is an auditorium, a gym, a play area much larger than the one in her current school and the student to teacher ratio is much smaller than you thought.

“Mrs. Garcia, I know you have some reservations about our school as Mr. Garcia told us,” Sister Catherine begins, her Irish accent strong. “I assure you, Mia will have the very best of care here at St. Mary’s. The curriculum here is outstanding and our students go on to Ivy League universities and abroad.”

“Curriculum,” you repeat, seeing her nod, anticipating your response with a tight-lipped smile. You’ve been peppering her with questions the entire tour, ever since she had mentioned she was pleased that Santiago had reached out weeks prior, calling you by your former last name, ignoring that you had mentioned that you were divorced.

Your cell phone vibrates in your purse, mumbling an excuse to step away for a moment as Sister Catherine approaches Santiago and Mia to discuss the details of the stables, asking Mia if she would like to know the names of all the horses.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry if I caught you at a bad time,” Tyler apologizes, your mood improving at the sound of his voice.

You’re grateful for the reprieve, even more so that he’s called you directly.

Santiago looks over his shoulder as you turn around, your back to him. He’s far away enough that you hope he can’t hear you.

“No, it’s fine, I’m just out with Mia,” you answer. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m good.”

After a pause, Tyler laughs, the sound making you smile.

“Listen, I’m being a total idiot about this and I’m sorry. How would you feel if I picked the place to go to dinner? I promise you’ll have a good time.”

“I think that would be fine. Should I be worried?” you ask.

“No? I mean, I hope not. How does Saturday sound? Seven?”

“Seven works,” you agree, taking two steps away from Sister Catherine. “Enough time to find a sitter.”

“Seven it is. We can meet there if that works?”

“Sure. I’ll see you at seven.”

“Perfect. It’s a date. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

When you hang up, you notice that Santiago is closer now, Mia still in his arms as he looks through his phone for a moment. Sister Catherine clears her throat at the interruption, making you look up from your phone.

“Did you have questions regarding any of our curricula?”

You hope that doesn’t mean to be pushy, but it sounds that way, the nun clasping her hands in front of her, waiting for your answer.

“Mia is five. She’s in kindergarten and doing well,” you counter, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice. “College is a few years away.”

“She’s a very intelligent young lady. We would nurture her intuitive nature, develop her into a strong young woman who would be readily accepted at any university of her choosing. You must start now, in her formidable years, to make sure she is strong.”

“She’s already strong.”

Mia runs over to you when her father puts her down, clinging to your legs as she bends her head back, looking into your eyes.

“I like it, Mommy!” Mia announces.

“You like what, sweetheart?” you ask carefully, Mia raising up her arms for you to pick her up.

She settles into your arms, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“I like the horsies.”

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” you ask, her head bumping against your cheek as she nods quickly.

“I want one, Mommy. Can I have one?”

“Horses are expensive, baby,” you tell her gently, Santiago standing close by to smooth down her hair.

“We can talk about it over lunch, hmm? How does that sound?” he asks, giving you a cool smile before he turns to the nun. “Sister Catherine, I cannot tell you how much we appreciate the hospitality and the graciousness you’ve shown me and my family.”

“It is my pleasure, Mr. Garcia.”

“We haven’t made a decision,” Santiago says carefully, looking in your direction as you hold Mia close. “But I’m sure either way, we’ll be in touch.”

“Of course. It was nice meeting you, Mia,” Sister Catherine says, Mia leaning over you to shake her hand.

“Bye!” Mia chirps as you force a smile, knowing that this isn’t the right time to say any of the thoughts that have filled your head.

“Thank you,” you reply to her, the nun nodding with a gracious expression.

“Of course, Mrs. Garcia.”

🌙

Mia chews on a piece of chicken, cut up expertly by her father as she colors on the paper placemat.

Santiago leans back in his chair, sipping his glass of wine, silent as he glances from his daughter to you. As much as your irritation has grown, you know better than to argue in front of Mia. You’re also aware of the stare that he’s giving you, like he has more to say than he is letting on.

“I’m sorry for the surprise,” Santiago murmurs, placing his glass back down on the table. “I should have told you.”

“Yes, you should have,” you answer back quietly, Mia still coloring, playing you no mind. “I know you want what is best for our daughter, but I wish you would understand that this would be a big change for her.”

“Of course it would. No more cafeteria food, no overcrowded classrooms, more attention on our precious daughter. I fail to see the flaws in St. Mary’s.”

“She knows no one there. She’s made friends, she has her own little social calendar now. She’s happy.”

“I’m happy,” Mia recites with a giggle, drawing a squiggly line in purple crayon.

“She’s five,” Santiago recites back to you. “Young enough to make new friends, build new relationships and settle into a new school.”

The server interrupts with the next course, lingering a little longer to ask Santiago if he would like something else, her arm draped over the chair. You pay her no mind, knowing that he won’t let this particular subject go, no matter what distraction there may be in his way.

“I think we’re fine for now, thank you,” he declares with an air of annoyance through a tight flash of teeth.

“I’ll be nearby if you need anything,” she says, moving away from him.

Still within earshot, Santiago’s eyes level with yours, looking down at his plate and then to Mia, who has switched to a green crayon, drawing what looks like two boxes on top of each other.

“A frog,” Mia announces to her parents, coloring diligently.

Before you have a chance to argue, his gaze settles on the server who is still close by, turning back to you with a disapproving stare before he finally speaks.

“Mira a Mia, nos tiene a nosotros igual con el mundo a su alcance.”

He raises an eyebrow after, his words settling as you frown, Mia’s head snapping up at attention.

“¿Que... mundo?” she asks her father, looking at him suspiciously, your eyes rolling as Santiago smirks, lifting her out of her chair and onto his lap.

“I forgot how smart you are, mini,” Santiago murmurs against her, moving his wine glass away from her as she reaches for it. “That’s not juice. Let’s get you your own drink.”

The nickname isn’t lost on you, Mia leaning against her father, rubbing her eyes. Mini, meaning a mini version of you, something he’s called her since before she could talk.

When the server finally moves away, Mia slips off of her father’s lap, running to you as she moves from side to side.

“I gotta potty,” she announces loudly, your finger going to your lips to remind her to lower her voice as she takes off running.

Independent as you know her to be, you also know she’s fast, following behind her. You know she has no idea where she’s going, mumbling out an apology to the tables that she passes, narrowly missing a server with a tray over their head.

She stops in her tracks, pointing as you reach her, following her direction.

“It’s Abel!”

True to her word, Abel is sitting across a table in a booth with a well-dressed woman, who you assume is Abel’s mother. She doesn’t fit the description of Abel’s mother, someone whose name Melanie has dragged through the proverbial mud. This woman, in her black pantsuit and perfectly coiffed hair doesn’t look like she would be an absent mother, especially the way she talks to him.

It is Melanie after all, you think, herding Mia toward the restroom. She’s not exactly known for liking many people, let alone someone who is that close to Jax.

“I wanna say hi,” Mia protests, looking over her shoulder before the door closes. “Mommy, let’s say hi to Abel.”

“After you go to the restroom, I promise we will go say hello to Abel and after you wash your hands.”

“And we sing the ABCs!” Mia reminds you, running into a stall and locking it.

It feels silly to think about Jax, especially with how the day has played out. Santiago’s surprise tour to St. Mary’s and your upcoming date with Tyler. Your plate is full and you haven’t even told Santiago about your date.

If you even want to. You don’t even want to know how many dates he’s been on. Not that he’ll ever tell you and you’ve never been bold enough to ask. A flicker of irritation moves through you when you remember Abel’s sweet little face, dejected after being dropped off without a gift. You know that it didn’t matter that he didn’t have a gift but children mimic their parents and their societal standards.

“I’m done!” Mia says, after stopping the multiple flushes once you remind her to not play in the bathroom.

Dutifully she recites her alphabet when she washes her hands, the suds flying around the sink while you prepare the paper towels for her to dry her hands like a servant.

“Can we say hi now?”

“Yes,” you agree, Mia bolting out the door.

You stop in your tracks when Mia greets Jax loudly, seeing him sit across from the well-dressed woman. He’s traded his well-worn kutte for a button down shirt and black slacks, his hair slicked back, unaware that you’re close by when he scans the restaurant for any sign of you.

“Mommy!” Mia says, waving to you. “She’s right there.”

You tug your dress down when you walk toward them, Abel giving you a shy smile, Jax giving you a slow smile.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Jax says with a smile. “Mother daughter lunch date?”

“You could say that,” you respond, Mia eyeing the paper placemat that Abel is working on.

“You have to color the boxes,” Mia orders, your arm going around her to remind her of her manners gently.

“Abel can color them later,” you tell her softly, Mia shrugging as Abel starts to color in the boxes.

The woman smiles and you feel a sense of intruding on their time, quickly giving them a nod before slowly turning Mia back toward the direction of where you are sitting.

It’s family time, you predict, Jax giving you a curious look as you make a move to give them some space.

“Leaving so soon?”

“I wouldn’t want to impede on your family time,” you tell him. “Good to see you and Abel and nice to meet you…”

“Nice to meet you too,” the woman says with a grin, Jax raising an eyebrow before you march Mia back to the table.

🌙

“Busy schedule?” Santiago asks, seeing you fire off a text to one of the moms in the group text over a snack rotation schedule mix up. The drive back as been quiet thus far, ever since you’d gone back to the table and he had already paid, holding Mia’s tiny purse that she had insisted on taking everywhere.

“Just ironing out some details.”

Mia is fast asleep in the backseat, Santiago licking his lower lip in thought.

“If you need a sitter on Saturday, I’m sure I can have my mother watch Mia.”

“Are my conversations not private anymore?” you question, seeing a smirk play at his mouth.

“Big hallway,” he responds. “Your voice carries. And you didn’t answer my question. Do you want my mother to watch Mia?”

“I’d prefer to think about my options and for you to not eavesdrop on my conversations.”

“I told you. Your voice carries.”

You shift in your seat. It’s uncomfortable to know that he heard what you were saying, even more unnerving is that you feel guilty.

“Or you were listening. I don’t ask you about your personal life.”

“No,” he agrees with a shake of his head. “I’d answer anything you’d want to know. You know that.”

You sit in silence for a moment, your street coming into view.

“You want to date, I say go for it,” Santiago continues. “Would it make me a little jealous to know you’re scouting out potential men to find a partner? I’m human, aren’t I? I’d be lying if I told you I don’t think about how I should have put another baby in you. Those sounds you make for me, conejita… I crave them and no one can ever recreate it, nor have they come close.”

You try to move when he places his hand on your bare thigh, his hand warm as he slides it up toward your dress.

“So you’ve tried,” you shoot back, hating that you can already feel yourself reacting to him.

“Does it matter?”

“When you’re trying to surprise me with a quick decision on a private school that I was not given a chance to even think about? No,” you answer, placing your hand on his. “I’m still upset with you.”

“I didn’t say she had to go. It needs to be a decision from the both of us. I’m asking you to keep an open mind.”

“I will once I can keep a clear mind.”

Santiago smiles, a text popping up on his screen. Another woman, your eyes looking at the notification.

“Guess your calendar is packed too,” you shoot back, getting out of the car when he parks. “Not making a decision on the school yet. But we aren’t sleeping together.”

Santiago laughs, shaking his head in disbelief when he gets out the car to take Mia out of her seat.

“My flight leaves in two hours so I’ll put her to bed and you can take your time with your decision,” he informs you.

🌙

Settling Mia into her bed, he heads downstairs, finding no sign of you. Your phone is on the counter, a notification popping up as he hovers over it.

It’s a single name, one that he raises an eyebrow at.

Jax.

Even more curious is what he reads as he hears you come back down the stairs.

Not my wife. She’s my lawyer.

🌙

It’s daunting, fingers wrapped around the wood, breathing harder than you ever thought. You’re aware that your last movement was less than graceful, afraid to step over the line, your hips moving to try to get into the right position.

“Do you want some help?” Tyler asks, the burr of his voice sending a tingle down your spine.

“Yes, please,” you answer, his warm fingers on your elbow, flexing your arm back and forth slowly.

The sweet smell of sawdust gives you the urge to sneeze, the loud clink of beer glasses when someone hits a target and the raucous roar when someone doesn’t hit their mark gives you a sense of ease. There’s no need for perfection or expertise.

He’d met you at the door, your shyness on display when he held the door open for you. It wasn’t your first choice for a date, but your only comparison was the upscale restaurants that Santiago would take you to. Either way, you’re excited to try something new, the ax hard to throw but the adrenaline rush when you throw it is entertaining.

“It’s a flick of the wrist,” he instructs, standing behind you, his body a solid wall of muscle when you take a step back accidentally, trying to make sure you don’t disqualify yourself.

“It’s a quick throw but you’ve got to move with purpose, focus on where you want it to go. Ready?”

When you throw it, the ax sails through the air, hitting the top of the target. Not that it matters, you finally got it to stick, celebrating that you were able to hit something, rather than have it bounce off the wall.

As a first date, you’re still glancing at your phone as Laurie sends you pictures of Mia, feeling guilty for all of five seconds when you realize that he’s probably done the same. You feel oddly comfortable in a flannel shirt and jeans and a pair of sneakers for a first date. You’d gone through your closet while Laurie had come over to watch Mia, with it being Andy’s week with Jacob and she was more than happy to watch her as Santiago’s mother had last minute plans.

As a rule, you don’t engage with any questions she has, especially since she’s always hinted that you had made a mistake with your decision to separate and then divorce.

It was a good thing they were your decisions.

Your decision now is to try to not focus on how handsome Tyler looks when he focuses on the target, hitting the target each time. You’re aware of his politeness, the way he doesn’t get into the personal side of your history with your ex, keeping it light with Mia and Hunter and to your interests.

For the first time in a long time, you talk about yourself and your hopes and dreams.

And Tyler listens.

You don’t want to compare, nor do you want to put either of them on a pedestal but there’s something about the way he lets what you say sink in, nodding slowly and taking the social cue of when he can share his own thoughts and ideas. There is no fighting for dominance in a conversation, something that you aren’t used to.

“What?” he asks you after taking a sip of his beer.

“Nothing,” you answer quickly, realizing that you’ve been staring at his tattooed arms and how he smiles.

It isn’t the time to admit that you’ve been appreciating his physical form as well as feeling seen and heard.

“Ax throwing is harder than I thought,” you admit, stretching out your fingers.

“Does it hurt?” Tyler asks, reaching out his hand to you, placing your hand in his. “Sometimes you can get a splinter.”

He examines your hand, his fingers running along your fingers and palm, closing your hand into a fist and then unraveling it to hook your fingers over his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. At the contact, your face heats up at how gentle he is with you.

“Not a scratch or splinter from what I can see,” he says with a nod, looking into your eyes. “I’d say that’s a win.”

“I thought about leaving. Taking Hunter with me, moving to a new city and just starting over,” Tyler tells you while you walk along the pier. “It made sense to me, you know? Clean slate, we didn’t have to look back. Then he entered kindergarten and I watched him come out of his shell that I thought he would never break out of and I knew that I couldn’t do that to him.”

“What about private school?” you ask, seeing him shrug off his jacket as he slows his steps, placing it over your shoulders. You’re instantly warm, smelling the faint cologne left on his jacket. “Thank you.”

“I thought about it,” he replies, continuing to walk beside you. “I moved a lot as a kid, went to few private schools here and there but I never like I fit in. Didn’t think Hunter would either. Why do you ask?”

“I thought about St. Mary’s but…” you trail off, focusing on the waves that crash against the shore in the moonlight. “I think she’d miss her friends.”

“They’d miss her.”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I want to make sure she’s well adjusted. I want to make sure that she’s happy and healthy. She’s made so many friends and I hope that I make the right decision for her.”

“Have you ever felt like you haven’t?”

Shaking your head, he nods in agreement.

“Then you’re making the right decision.”

“I feel like I could be better.”

“Oh?” he questions. “How so?”

“There’s always room for improvement.”

“Even now?”

His curious expression makes you stop, looking into his blue eyes for a moment. There’s a vulnerability there, a softness that sends a slight flutter to your stomach.

“No,” you answer. “I can’t think of any improvements on tonight.”

“I disagree,” Tyler responds, pulling his jacket that is around your shoulders closer to keep you warm, pulling you toward him slowly. “I can think of something.”

He lowers his head to kiss you and you meet him halfway, his lips on yours, soft and warm. You don’t want it to end, even if you know at any time you’ll both pull away.

His cell phone vibrates loudly in the pocket, your soft groan barely audible when you break the kiss.

“Did you want to get that?” you whisper, Tyler kissing you again before you can ask him again.

“It’s the sitter. I think I owe her some overtime.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” you apologize, Tyler holding you close by holding onto his jacket.

“Worth it.”

🌙

“You kissed him?” Laurie whispers, eyes wide as she perches on the couch. “Shut up, you did not.”

“I did,” you confess, covering your face. “On the first date? Is that even allowed?”

“Of course it is! I fucked my first college boyfriend on the first date. This is tame. Tongue or no tongue.”

“Laurie!” you hiss, breaking out into a fit of laughter. “This is absurd. I can’t believe I’m talking about this. It was one date.”

“One date where you went ax throwing with a giant. Not just any giant, by the way. Tyler Rake. The man is an enigma. I can’t tell if he hates the PTA or genuinely enjoys it.”

“I didn’t ask,” you say dryly, Laurie finishing the last of her wine. Your phone vibrates next to you, a message popping up that you check quickly before she notices.

Happy you made it home safe. Thank you for a great night.

“So… was he a good kisser?” Laurie questions.

“Do you ask this of everyone?”

“No,” Laurie replies honestly. “I’m asking because you’re my friend and I don’t have many of those because most people annoy me. You went on a date. That’s a start. How do you feel?”

“Weird.”

You don’t know how to explain it. It feels like you’re keeping a secret, even if it isn’t one. You’re a single woman, even if you don’t feel like it sometimes. Santiago is gone, jetted off to Spain for a trip. Probably with one of his companions, something you won’t ever ask about, even if he says he’s an open book.

It’s complicated in a way that it doesn’t need to be and you know it.

Laurie is right. This is a start of something. Maybe not anything that you know but enough to make you begin thinking that you deserve to be selfish for a moment, to think about what you want.

Whatever that may be.

“It’s okay to play the field you know,” Laurie says, getting up from her seat, picking up her wine glass to take to the sink. “It’s not a bad thing to make sure your bases are loaded.”

When you check on Mia, she’s fast asleep, buried under the covers with her favorite teddy bear at her side. Next week will be Santiago’s week and the pangs of longing already begin, even though she’s right next to you when you sit carefully on her bed.

Two more weeks of school and then she’s done for the summer, your baby girl going full speed ahead into the first grade once the summer is over, something you aren’t ready to comprehend, let alone even want to think about.

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper, smoothing back her hair as she snuggles against her pillow. “I love you.”

Getting up to leave her room, you scroll through your missed messages, noticing one from an unknown number.

BBQ next Saturday. Adults only – Alcohol is provided. See you there?

You’ve seen the number before, scrolling through your phone to find a message where the number pops up again from a message confirming attendance at a school function.

Andy Barber.

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