Page 17 of Jax & Knox

"I had coffee," I say.

She gives me a look. "Coffee is not food, Ainsley."

She sets the bag on the kitchen table and starts pulling out containers, burgers, fries, onion rings, a salad that looks like an afterthought.

"Sit," she orders.

I sit.

We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and I realize how hungry I actually am. The burger is greasy and perfect, and I don't even care that I'm eating with my hands.

"So," Tessa says, dipping a fry in ketchup. "How are you holding up?"

"Okay, I think."

"You think?"

I shrug. "I don't know. It's weird. Being here. Feeling... safe."

"Safe is good," Tessa says. "Safe is what you deserve."

I look at her, this tiny, fierce woman with wild energy and a sharp tongue. "Lucy said someone helped her once. Did someone help you too?"

Tessa's expression shifts, just slightly. She sets down her burger and leans back in her chair. "Yeah. They did."

"What happened?"

She's quiet for a moment, her fingers drumming on the table. Then she sighs. "I was running too. Not from a boyfriend, but from... everything. My past. My family. Myself, probably." She laughs, but it's hollow. "I ended up in Jackson with nothing. No money, no plan, no idea what I was doing. I was bartending at some dive bar, sleeping in my car, trying to figure out how to survive."

"How did you end up here?"

"Cole found me," she says simply. "Well, technically Hadley found me first. She was teaching at the middle school and saw me in the parking lot one night. She brought me to Perdition, introduced me to the Old Ladies, and they... they just took me in. No questions. No judgment. Just help."

"And Cole?"

Tessa's face softens. "Cole was patient. He didn't push. He just... showed up. Every day. Until I believed he wasn't going anywhere."

"Do you ever regret it?" I ask. "Staying?"

She looks at me, her eyes sharp and clear. "Not for a second."

"But what if⁠⁠—"

"What if what?" she interrupts. "What if it doesn't work out? What if they leave? What if you get hurt again?" She leans forward. "Ainsley, you can't live your life waiting for the other shoe to drop. Yeah, bad shit happens. But good shit happens too. And you deserve the good shit."

I want to believe her.

I want to believe that this, this cottage, these people, this feeling of safety, is real.

But I'm terrified.

Terrified of wanting it too much. Terrified of losing it.

"I don't know how to do this," I admit.

"Do what?"

"Trust. Hope. Any of it."