Page 115 of Jax & Knox

I sit beside him carefully. Knox sits on my other side, creating a protective circle around me.

The sun is coming up, painting the sky in shades of soft pink and brilliant gold. Birds are starting to sing. The world is waking up, continuing on like nothing happened.

Nobody talks.

We just sit there in companionable silence, watching the light spread slowly across the horizon, chasing away the darkness.

My hands won't stop shaking. They tremble in my lap like they have a life of their own.

"I killed him," I whisper, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

"You protected your son," Knox says immediately, his voice steady and sure.

"I took a life." The weight of it settles over me, heavy and suffocating.

"You saved four,” Jax adds quietly, his voice rough with pain and emotion.

I look at him, confused. “Four?”

"Yours. Owen's. And mine." He reaches for my hand with his good one, his fingers wrapping around mine. "If you hadn't done it, he would have kept coming. He would have found a way. And next time, one of us might not have been so lucky. Next time, he might have succeeded."

I lean into him carefully, mindful of his injuries, trying not to hurt him. "I thought you were dead. When I saw you on the ground, all that blood, I thought I'd lost you."

"I know."

"I thought I'd gotten you killed. That this was all my fault."

"You didn't."

"But I⁠⁠—"

"Ainsley." Knox's voice is firm but gentle. He turns my face toward him with careful fingers. "Listen to me. You didn't do this. Justin did. He made every single choice that led to this moment. He chose violence. He chose obsession. He chose to keep coming after you. Not you. This is on him."

Tears stream down my face, hot and fast. "I don't know how to live with this. I don't know how to be the person who killed someone."

"You don't have to live with it alone," Jax says, his voice fierce despite his weakness. "We're here. We're not going anywhere. Ever."

Knox pulls me against his chest, and Jax wraps his good arm around both of us, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety.

We sit there as the sun rises higher, painting the sky in deeper shades of orange and gold, the colors bleeding across the horizon like watercolors.

Inside, Owen starts to fuss. I hear him through the baby monitor clipped to Knox's belt, his soft whimpers growing louder.

"I'll get him," Knox says, standing smoothly.

He comes back a few minutes later with Owen in his arms, our son rubbing his eyes with tiny fists, still half-asleep and confused.

"Mama," he babbles when he sees me, reaching out with grabby hands.

I take him from Knox, holding him close, breathing in his sweet baby smell. "I'm here, baby. Mama's here. I'm always here."

Owen rests his head on my shoulder with complete trust, and I kiss his forehead, his soft hair, his chubby cheek.

Jax leans his head against my shoulder, his breathing evening out. Knox sits beside us, his large hand warm and reassuring on my back.

For a long time, we just sit there. Watching the sunrise paint the world in new colors. Holding each other. Being together.

Finally, after what feels like hours, I take a deep breath.