Page 19 of Jax & Knox

I watch Knox work. The way his hands move with precision. The way he doesn't waste a single motion. The way he's completely focused on the task in front of him, competent, methodical, quiet.

No yelling. No slamming. No tension crackling through the air like a live wire.

Just the soft scrape of metal on wood. The faint creak of the hinge as he adjusts it. Owen's happy babbling.

When Knox finishes, he stands and tests the door. It swings open and closed smoothly now, no sticking.

"That should do it," he says.

"Thank you," I say quietly.

He looks at me, his hazel eyes intense. "You need anything, let us know."

And then he's gone.

I stand there, staring at the door he just fixed. My hands are trembling slightly. Not from fear. From something else.

Something I don't have a name for yet.

But I want it anyway.

They come back together just after sunset.

Jax is carrying a bag of takeout, and Knox has a six-pack of beer tucked under his arm.

"Figured you might be hungry," Jax says, grinning.

I let them in, and we eat on the porch, burgers and fries spread out on paper plates, the porch swing creaking under our combined weight.

Jax makes Owen laugh by making silly faces, and Knox watches with that quiet intensity that makes my skin prickle.

"You're good with him," I say to Jax.

He shrugs. "Kids are easy. You just gotta not be an asshole."

Knox snorts. "That's your parenting philosophy?"

"It's worked so far."

I laugh, and it feels good. Natural.

We sit there for a while, talking about nothing important. Jax tells a story about a landscaping job gone wrong. Knox adds dry commentary that makes me laugh harder than I should.

And I realize, sitting here with them, that I feel... safe.

Not just physically.

But emotionally.

Like maybe, just maybe, I could let my guard down.

But then the fear creeps back in.

This feels too good. This never ends well.

I pull back slightly, wrapping my arms around myself.

Knox notices. Of course he does.