Page 59 of My Fixation

“Thinking.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, barely. The road stretches out ahead of us. Duncan’s attention returns to it, but I can practically see the gears turning in his head. Whatever he’s thinking about, he’s taking his time getting there.

Out of everyone in the family, Duncan and I have always been the closest. Not that he’d ever admit it. Don’t get me wrong, he’s close with Declan. That’s his son. His pride and joy, even if he’d rather walk barefoot across broken glass than say those words out loud.

But for as long as I can remember, I’ve gravitated toward Duncan. Even as a kid. While the others were outside playing football or getting into trouble, I’d often end up wherever Duncan happened to be. Watching him work, following him around. Most people find him intimidating. I never did. Well, not much, anyway. He’s always felt steady to me. The kind of man who says exactly what he means and means exactly what he says.

When Duncan makes a promise, it gets kept. When Duncan says he’ll protect someone, that person stays protected. I think that is why he and I are close. My personality and his match on some levels. Which is why the glances are starting to concern me.

“Are you going to spit it out?” I ask.

“Why Jaxon?”

I frown. “What do you mean? You already know that the altercation with Manny set all of this in motion.” Confusion laces my tone.

“No, why did you pick Jaxon?” He takes his eyes off the road long enough to search my face before turning back to it. “You don’t do relationships.”

That’s true. I don’t. My brothers and cousins think I’m the biggest man-whore in the family, and that’s by design. They see me leave the club with random men and women all the time. They see the flirting, the touching, the easy smiles. They think they know exactly what I’m doing. What they don’t see is me walking those same people to their rides home. Making sure they’re safe.

Then leaving alone. It’s become a constant source of entertainment for the family. A running commentary about who’s taking who home and how long it’ll last. I get my fair share of sex. Always have. But it means absolutely nothing, a transaction between consenting adults. That’s the way I’ve always preferred it. No expectations.

“I don’t know if I can explain it,” I say. “Not in a way that will make sense to you.”

Duncan is quiet for a moment. “What about him caused you to fixate on him?”

This time I don’t have to think. The answer comes immediately. “His fight with Declan.” Duncan waits. He knows there’s more.

“I watched that fight, and it made no sense to me.” I stare out the windshield at the road stretching endlessly in front of us.

The memory is as clear now as it was eight months ago. Jaxon was outmatched. Anyone with eyes could see it. Yet that wasn’t what held my attention.

“He pulled his punches,” I continue. Duncan’s fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel. Not enough for most people to notice. Enough for me.

“He wasn’t trying to lose exactly.” I shake my head, searching for the right words. “He was trying not to hurt anyone.”

Even now, it doesn’t make sense. A man trapped in a cage. Forced to fight. Given every reason to prioritize his own survival, and he was worried about the person standing across from him. “I couldn’t reconcile it.”

The confession comes easier than I expect. “Everything about the situation should have made him vicious. Angry. Desperate. Instead, he’d looked guilty every time he landed a hit. Like hurting someone bothered him. Like he cared. I needed to know why.”

“That only explains why you wanted to know what makes him tick.”

Duncan makes a left-hand turn and glances at me before returning his attention to the road. “But I’ve seen the way you look at him.” I don’t respond. “It’s the same with Declan and Ronan.” That gets my attention. Duncan isn’t a man who wastes words.

“Alessia says you boys have imprinted on these men.”

I huff out a laugh. It sounds ridiculous. Yet I don’t immediately dismiss it. The silence stretches between us. I turn my gaze to the passing scenery outside the window. Trying to put something into words that has existed only as fragmented thoughts until now. The more I watched him, the more I wanted. What I wanted was harder to define.

I wanted to know where he went after the fights. What books he read. Why he always looked exhausted. Why he kept choosing kindness when the world gave him every reason not to.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved,” I admit. “Any more than I already was.” The words feel almost ironic now. Because by then I was already watching him. Already making excuses to keep tabs on him. Already looking for him every time I walked into the club.

Duncan says nothing. Waiting, letting me work through it.

“But then I saw him that night.” My jaw tightens. I don’t need to explain which night. Duncan knows.

“The fourth fight.” I can still see it. Jaxon is standing there, bruised, exhausted, and defeated. Like he’d finally accepted that no one was coming for him.

“I couldn’t walk away.” The admission settles heavily in the car. It’s the truth. The simplest version of it, anyway. I couldn’t leave him there. Couldn’t pretend he wasn’t my problem. Couldn’t convince myself to stop caring. I let out a slow breath.