Page 18 of Jax & Knox

Tessa reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "You don't have to figure it all out today. Just take it one day at a time. One moment at a time. That's all any of us can do."

I nod, my throat tight.

She stays for another hour, helping me clean up and playing with Owen. When she leaves, she hugs me hard and tells me she'll be back tomorrow.

And I believe her.

I wake feeling incrementally better.

The pain in my ribs is still there, but it's duller now. Manageable. I can breathe deeper without wincing. I can move without feeling like my body is going to shatter.

Progress.

I make coffee and sit on the porch again, watching the sun rise over the property. Owen is still asleep, and I savor the quiet.

Around mid-morning, I hear the sound of a truck pulling up.

I move to the window and peek through the curtains.

Jax and Knox.

They're unloading tools from the bed of a truck, hammers, a drill, wood planks. They move with quiet efficiency, not talking much, just working in sync like they've done this a thousand times before.

I watch as Jax kneels on the porch steps, testing them with his hand. One of them creaks under his weight, and he shakes his head, pulling it free.

Knox is at the front door, examining the frame. He pushes it open and closed a few times, frowning at the way it sticks.

They didn't ask permission or knock. They just... showed up and started fixing things.

My chest aches watching them. Not from pain, but from something else. Something I don't have a name for. I should go out there. Say something. Thank them. But I don't. I just stand at the window and watch.

A few hours later Knox comes back alone. I'm sitting on the couch with Owen when I hear the knock.

Three firm raps against the wood. Respectful. Waiting.

I stand slowly, testing my ribs. The pain is duller now, manageable. I can move without feeling like I'm going to shatter.

When I open the door, Knox is standing on the porch, toolbox in hand, expression unreadable.

"Door's sticking," he says. "Gonna fix it."

"Oh." I glance at the doorframe, then back at him. "Okay."

He doesn't move. Just stands there, waiting.

It takes me a second to realize he's waiting for permission.

"Come in," I say, stepping back.

He nods once and steps inside, moving to the door with quiet efficiency. He kneels to examine the hinges, his hands already reaching for tools.

I stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do. Owen is on a blanket on the floor, playing with a soft toy. He notices Knox immediately and rocks forward onto his hands and knees, crawling toward him with determined little movements.

Knox glances down as Owen reaches him. The baby pats his knee with one chubby hand, babbling something that sounds like "ba-ba-ba."

Knox's mouth twitches, almost a smile. "Hey, little man," he says, his voice softer than I've ever heard it.

Owen grins up at him, then plops down on his bottom, content to sit and watch.