It's morning. That's the only thing that Brooke can tell when she wakes up from her deep slumber, stretching like a cat in the sun and heaving a deep breath in. She feels like someone hit a refresh button located just between her ribs, right at the spot where the pain normally sits when she rises from the rock hard bed she normally sleeps on, and she realizes that it's because she hadn't had a single nightmare. It's the first time since the attack where she hasn't woken up thrashing beneath the covers, sweat pooling on her brow and a scream ripping from her lungs. It's the first night that she's actually slept in weeks, and she can physically feel it. Her knee is sore, but not throbbing; her wrist barely twinges as she rotates it. Her fingers cautiously reach to her face, finding that her bruises are no longer sensitive to the touch.
But when she rolls over to tell Jax, who'd been at her side all night, the bed is empty and she's left with a massive pit in her stomach that rivals the state of Texas.
"Jax?" Brooke nearly yells, shucking on a pair of jeans that linger on the floor. She's still wearing a ratty Sons of Anarchy t-shirt, one that she's declared hers since it smells like a delicious combination of her perfume and Jax. She hesitates halfway down the hall as she hears the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen, immediately regretting that she's yelled out.
"He's not here, slut. He and Opie went to go take care of something. They wouldn't tell me more than that."
Brooke breathes easy as she steps into the kitchen, finding Rachel at the stove with her hair tied up. She looks like the girl that the brunette met in high school, a dark green long sleeved v-neck gracing her torso while a pair of dark jeans clings to her legs. She even looks borderline happy, a fact which doesn't escape her. "You look awful chipper today. Is there a shoe sale I don't know about?" Brooke sits down at the kitchen table with a grin, knowing exactly why her best friend is so peppy.
"Probably the same reason that you're so damn annoying." Rachel counters with a smirk, extending a cup of coffee to her. "Lots and lots of dirty biker sex. I can't remember the last time I felt this good. Or sore, for that matter."
"Probably because you sleep with college boys and Opie's actually a man who knows what he wants and how he wants it. His wife is a porn star, after all." Brooke snorts as she takes it, bringing it to her lips slowly. "And that's definitely not why I feel so good. I actually slept, like really slept and I woke up this morning and just fe-"
"Wait." The redhead interrupts, turning away from the french toast she's working on to look at Brooke with wide eyes. "You and Jax haven't slept together?"
She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, sipping her coffee as a diversion. "No, and you don't need to make it a thing."
Rachel frowns before she turns back to the food, spinning the spatula around in her hand. "It is a big thing. Have you seen that man? He's fucking gorgeous and damaged beyond repair and you're sitting around daydreaming about a future with him. At least with Opie I know where we stand. We're not imagining that we're going to have some happily ever after. Just really, really good sex."
"For fuck's sake, Raye. Can't it just be about more than just the sex?" Brooke snaps, glaring at the chef. How dare she judge them? So it wasn't just a meaningless fling, so she and Jax might be something more. When had that become a bad thing? Wasn't finding a human connection something that people valued, not spit on?
The kitchen is quiet until Rachel sets out the spread of french toast and eggs, her lips still pursed. But she doesn't look mad. She just looks worried. "You're smarter that this," Rachel says softly as she loads a plate and hands it to her. "You're smart enough to know that this life we've fallen into isn't ours. It's their's, Brooke. We're just visitors, and after we're gone it'll just be another travelling set of women that make a pair of bikers smile. Nothing more."
Brooke sighs. Of course she knows it's their world, these lawless bikers that they've entwined themselves with, that the two of them are just temporary residents. But she wants more, needs more from them, and Jax is giving her heaven and earth to make her stay. It's almost like he knows that the road is calling them back, that she needs to get the hell out of the public eye again if she's ever going to breathe easy, and he's made it so goddamn hard that all she wants to do is stay. "I'm happy. Isn't that enough right now? Do I really have to have all the answers right at this moment?" She murmurs over her black coffee, not even touching her food.
The slam of the coffee cup across from her is deafening, the steeled gaze of Rachel's brown eyes on her anything but warm. "Yes, Brooke. There's not just cops looking for you because you're missing anymore. They're looking because they need to question us for insurance fraud. Victoria cashed in your policy so that makes us suspect of being willing participants, and you want to play house with someone that just was released for a weapons violation because he was too busy holding his dead wife to hide his gun?" Rachel folds her arms across her chest. "Jax and this club have a target on their backs. There's no happily ever after here for you, there's no happily ever after anywhere if they indict us."
She doesn't even realize that she's teared up until she feels her cheeks grow wet with tears, brushing them away like they're acid. Brooke needs to be strong, she needs to be cold and heartless and all of the things that he life has taught her to be. But a flood gate has opened up inside of her, pried open with a Harley Davidson tail pipe and kept there with an iron fist. Damn you Jax, she silently scolds as her hazel eyes turn to glass, damn you for making me care.
"What do we do?" Brooke asks hoarsely, dragging her good hand through her messy waves. She knows she won't like the answer, she can feel it in her bones. "What options do we even have at this point?"
Rachel pauses, hesitation a completely different shade of emotion for the redhead. Brooke knows that she can feel it to, that something is keeping them here. It's not coincidence that Jax had found her that night, of that she's sure, and she feels the same lingering desperation to stay in Charming for as long as they can. "We can run again. Change our identities, maybe head towards Mexico. It's a little late and it'll be expensive, but we could do it. It would sure as shit be easier."
"Easier than telling the truth, or easier than fighting Victoria?" The brunette asks as her tears dry on her cheeks. She knows the answer, but it makes her feel sick to her stomach regardless.
"I'm not sure how we do either while living with a bunch of felons. The press is going to talk to someone who knows what the club's into, and when they get wind of it then this whole thing is shot to hell. All of it. We'll look like criminals from the start."
Brooke nods. She knows what comes next, the planning and the scheming and the dreaming. It's what they'd done after Clothes Over Bro's had been stripped and sold for parts. They'd made a plan, they'd prepared for everything, and then they'd left. But that had been before, before any roots had been put down and her heart had been settled. That had been the product of heartbroken and lonely Brooke Davis who just wanted her company and her first love back.
"Things are different now, Raye."
"The media won't see it that way. You don't get to play dumb with me, okay? I saw the press. I took the reporters head on in a hospital parking lot while you dashed off with your boy toy."
It's Brooke that slams her fist onto the table this time, plates clattering against the surface as she feels her anger bubble up inside of her. "How fucking hard is it for you to admit that I may actually have something here? That I can't just go running off with you anymore?" She snaps viciously. "What Jax and I have, that's not some fleeting thing. He's not my boy toy, he's not my biker, he's not some random guy. I'm falling for him, really falling. I'm letting him in and it feels good, like I'm finally fucking getting somewhere. So either get with the new program, or go ahead and take off like you're so clearly desperate to."
Silence slips in again like their long lost third wheel to their little brigade, and the redhead can't look her in the eye. Brooke hasn't ever been one to let a guy come between her and the only person that's taken care of her since her mother had royally fucked her over, but she needs to stand her ground. Jax is hers, plain and simple, and she can't picture leaving him without ripping her own heart out in the process. And yet, it feels like an eternity as she pushes her eggs around her plate and tries to keep calm because this is Rachel. This is her best friend, the woman who had been there for every heartbreak and mistake since their senior year of high school, and she's pushing the limits on their friendship.
Because when it comes down to it, Brooke knows that she'll always put Rachel first because that's who they are. It had been Rachel who'd searched all over Oakland for her, Rachel who had socked Jax just to get to her, Rachel who had literally taken a bullet and lost organs in the process of protecting her. She's her sister, and a man cannot come before that. Never again would she sacrifice a friendship for a flirtation, she'd learned better. But Jax isn't just a flirtation. He's more, so much more, and she's struggling with balancing her love for both of them.
"I'll hold a press conference outside of the police station. It'll be more formal, keeps the eye off of the club." Rachel says quietly.
Brooke doesn't even realize that she's holding her breath until Rachel meets her gaze and nods. She exhales, and the assured agreement is understood. They aren't leaving Charming unless they absolutely have to, and even then it's still not an option for her.
"Your eggs kind of suck." She says bluntly, smirking across the table. "Too much garlic salt, if you ask me."
"Yeah, well with the size of your ass you don't really need to be eating anyway." Rachel quips back, and the world returns to its normal axis without skipping a beat.
At least it does for the split second she has before there's a knock at the front door, and the two of them tense up because they're sitting in a kitchen that is definitely not their's. A kitchen that someone died in less than a year ago.
And then Brooke remembers that Jax's kids are supposed to get dropped off today, and she immediately curses him for taking off on her. "Fuck, that must be Wendy." She mutters, throwing her hands up when Rachel gives her best what-the-fuck face. "She's his junkie ex-wife, she's dropping the kids off to visit with him."
"With him, or with you and him?"
Brooke narrows her eyes as she stands up, making for the door. "Shut up a make more food, Whore."
She can hear Rachel snort as she gets to the door, running her fingers through her hair as she sees a curly blonde with one kid at her side and another asleep on her hip. Brooke takes a deep breath, because these aren't just some neighbor kids looking for her to buy a few boxes of Girl Scout cookies. These are Jax's sons, one with the blonde at the door and the other with the woman that was found dead less than twelve feet front her.
Breathe, she tells herself as she grips the door knob. Just breathe.
But still, when she opens the door, all life leaves her body and Brooke's left standing there dumbfounded, staring down at a little blonde boy that couldn't look more like Jax if he tried. She knows it's Abel from the way that his father has spoken of him, tensed up shoulders and a pout that just won't quit. She feels like she's met him a hundred times, and the smile that spreads across her lips is more inviting and warm that she's felt in years.
"I'm sorry, but who are you and what are you doing in my ex-husband's house?"
Her realization is cut short by the woman who's so obviously Wendy, Jax's ex. She's beautiful in her own way, her track marked scars covered by tattoos and her eyes heavily rimmed with kohl. She's got Thomas in her arms, who looks like he's just woken up from a good nap. and Abel at her side. She looks like the girls that Brooke's seen around the clubhouse, girls that eye up Jax like he's a grade A steak on a butcher's block, and she'd be nothing short of intimidating to any normal human being.
But she's not normal, she reminds herself as she keeps the warm smile on her lips for the sake of the two children in front of her. Her hazel eyes are afire with confidence and stride, because she isn't just anyone. She's Brooke Penelope Davis, and more importantly, she's a survivor. She's a warrior, and she's his and that somehow makes her feel like she's on the top of the food chain.
"I'm Brooke, Jax's girlfriend. He had to run out on club business and asked me to watch the kids until he gets back." Brooke's voice doesn't even sound like her own, firm in her resolve and stronger than she's been in years. "You can call him if you feel like you need to, but I doubt you'll reach him. His headers tend to drown out everything else when he's riding. But you know that already, right?"
She can hear Rachel choking on her laughter and the remainder of her coffee in the kitchen, but Brooke keeps a warm smile on her lips as she squats down, looking directly at Jax's son. "And you must be Abel. Your daddy's told me an awful lot about you." Brooke says with a grin, holding her hand out to him. "Your Uncle Opie's friend Rachel is making french toast for you and she is the best cook ever!"
Abel's face lights up like the town square Christmas tree, and he looks at her like she's the best thing since sliced bread. He smiles back at her as he reaches up, taking Brooke's hand. His voice is quiet, but clear as a bell. "You look like my mommy. Did you know her before she went to heaven?"
Brooke's heart breaks for him, squeezing his hand gently as her dimples deepen into her cheeks. "No, sweetie. But I really would've liked to." She offers hopefully as Abel starts to move closer to her, his little hand reaching out to hers.
But Wendy holds him back, her arm protectively wrapped around him with her hand on his chest. "So you're the new one, huh? Figures it would be another brunette. They're always fuckin' up his life." She smirks heavily, readjusting Thomas on her hip. "I'm sure you won't last long either. Just hope that your exit isn't as violent as hers."
Brooke's blood sings with rage, and she has to bite down on her tongue to keep from cussing out the tramp standing in the doorway. The only she hates more than people swearing in front of kids is when they used them like pawns in a chess game. It's what her parents did to her as a kid, and it makes her so angry that she could explode. Not to mention, how dare she bring up Tara like that in front of Abel? In front of Thomas? She had been their mother, not Wendy, who had probably been too busy shooting up to remember their names, let alone care for them.
The sweet smile stays on Brooke's features as she keeps her hand holding Abel's, her hazel gaze focused on Wendy. "Actually, I hear that's blonde junkies. But what do I know, right? I'm just the new one." Her tone is nothing short of fierce as she looks back down at Abel with the same warm smile.
Abel doesn't wait for Wendy to respond, moving to Brooke's side before looking at his biological mother as his arms wrap around the brunette's leg. "Stop it, Wendy! You have to be nice to Daddy's friend 'cause I said so!" He defends, his lips in a perfectly formed pout as he clings to her like there's a cold breeze in the air.
Her lips part in horror and all snappy remarks die on the tip of her tongue, because Abel's said it for her. Her eyes turn up to the blonde who now stands so stoically across from her, and she looks like she's been slapped in the face. She's expecting an outburst, for the woman to start cussing about how she's actually Abel's mother and somebody should have bothered to tell him by now. Something, anything that'll show that she's as shitty of a person as Brooke's made her out to be.
But there's nothing, just a somber smile and nod before Wendy turns her gaze back to the woman her son holds onto for dear life. "Abel hasn't had breakfast yet, but Thomas ate about a half hour ago. There's some mashed carrots and peas in the fridge that he can have for lunch." She says quietly, reserved in defeat as she lifts Thomas from her side and hands him to her.
Brooke settles Thomas on her chest as he gurgles happily, nodding as the toddler gets ahold of her hair. "I'll take care of them." She promises as the youngest Teller child twirls a lock around his little fingers, smiling happily as he looks straight at her. Blue eyes just like his daddy's make her melt as she stands there in front of Wendy, remembering that this isn't about possession of Jax, this is about becoming part of his world, of which his sons are the biggest. "I didn't mean to be short, I just-"
"I know. We're not the easiest people to deal with, Gemma and me." Wendy murmurs, smiling sadly down at Abel as she reaches out to him. She runs her long nails over his forehead, pushing the hair out of his eyes. "As long as you're good to them, I really don't care what you and Jax are doing."
Brooke runs her free hand over Thomas's soft brown hair as she struggles with the right words. She feels obligated to say something, to soothe the bitter woman before her, and the sentiment comes out as quiet as can be. "I'm not here to replace anyone, Wendy. That's not what I'm about, and I don't think that's what Jax is trying to do either."
The blonde shifts uncomfortably on the front stoop, her eyes watery. "It's the first time I can actually be with him, since before. You don't know what it was like before Tara died." Wendy mumbles, her hand gesturing to her arm of track marks, scars of a previous life. Brooke's eyes wander over them, recognizing their purpose. Rachel's have faded since her overdose, but she knows that the redhead wouldn't be anywhere without a second chance. Knowing what she does about Jax, she can't imagine that they're easy to come by in their family.
Brooke glances down at Abel, who remains at her side as she speaks, before looking back up at Wendy with nothing but reassurance. "And I'm not here to take him from you."
Wendy exhales, and Brooke wonders how long she's been holding it in. Since Tara died, maybe? Before? Since Abel was born? It's heartbreaking to see her take a step back, nodding again, because the pained look on her face says it all. She worries that she'll never be able to see her son again, and that this is all a dream.
There's no climatic goodbye, no more comments with spitefully acidic undertones of past issues. Wendy just walks back to her car after awkwardly waving to Abel, and drives off before any real emotion can show on her face. Brooke tries to silence the thoughts that bubble in, that someday that might be her or Rachel if they get too attached to these men. Trying so desperately to get away, yet chained by bonds that were never truly severed.
"Can we have breakfast now?"
Abel's bright voice perks up from her side, and Brooke nods with her soft smile as she shuts the door. He goes bounding into the kitchen without another word, freezing when he sees Rachel at the stove. His eyes squint, like he's inspecting her as she stands at the range with her her hand on her hip and staring right back at him. "Are you Uncle Opie's old lady? That's what Daddy says you are. And does that mean you're my auntie, too?" He asks curiously.
Brooke can't even hold back the giggle that rumbles in her chest as Thomas snuggles into her chest a bit more, snoozing away, because the look on Rachel's face will last a lifetime. "Yeah, Auntie Rachel. Are you Uncle Opie's old lady?" She taunts, passing back and giving her a pat on her behind as she bounces Thomas on her hip. "That's Abel, and this little guy is Thomas. Be nice."
Rachel shoots daggers from the stove, her reply tight lipped and with anything but child friendly undertones to it. "Why don't you pass me the plate, Auntie Brooke, and you can give your food to Abel. Clearly you don't need it with all the extra baby weight you're carrying."
Brooke smirks from her position in the kitchen, pushing Abel's food towards him as she dances around the room to keep Thomas giggling lightly. Her hazel eyes focus directly on the smiling baby with his half-toothed grin, and she knows that this isn't playing house. This is the real thing, and it may just be all that she's ever wanted wrapped up in a pretty black leather bow.
- x - x - x - x - x - x -
It's a nice enough house in a nice enough neighborhood. It's yellow with white trim and big white shutters, and there's a blonde woman in her late fifties pruning a few rose bushes beneath a window sill. The mailbox is an exact replica of the yellow house, flowers and all. On any other day of the week, Jax would've thought it was nice, that a good family had lived there all their lives and had been good to the neighborhood, to the community even. He would've smiled, maybe even waved to the woman knelt in the front yard, and gone about his ride.
But it's not a nice house, and yellow is suddenly a color that makes his blood boil in his veins. His hands tighten on the grips of the steering wheel when he sees the woman and he wants to take the pruning shears to her fingers. It doesn't belong to a nice family with good virtues and solid reputations, and when he looks at the mailbox he wants to run it over without a second thought. All because of six letters on the side.
Mackey.
Jax struggles to keep his emotions in check as he hears the front door open, revealing the guard in plain clothes. He looks docile, normal even. Not the domineering and villainous man that he's known as in the prison. Not the cowardly bastard that had kicked Brooke around the pavement for so long that there had been asphalt embedded in her wounds, no. Because people in law enforcement were supposed to help people, not almost murder them.
He runs through Brooke's injuries as he sits there, watching. He'd been there for every stitch into her porcelain skin, for every line on her list of injuries, for every second that she was under Charlie's knife. He closes his eyes, and he remembers. Her face on the night he'd found her bloodied and bruised, her naked body splayed out on the church table for all to see, crimson dripping onto walnut and forming puddles on the floor. The way that she'd groaned in pain when they'd lifted her into the truck, the torture that she'd gone through to barely get to the other side of her recovery.
"Thank you, Handsome…thank you, thank you, thank you."
Her howling in the middle of the night, waking up from the nightmares that haunted her like ghosts from her. The way she used to flinch when someone would reach for her, immediately assuming harm would come to her. The sound she'd make when she rolled over in her sleep, trying to find comfort in a body that didn't resemble her own. The hazy look in her eyes when the painkillers would kick in and she'd finally gain some semblance of peace.
"I don't have the nightmares when you're here, Jax."
Furrowed creases of her forehead from when they popped back in joints and the doctor had turned Brooke into the human pincushion, the way that her eyes had rolled back into her eyes and her screams had echoed off the white walls of the hospital exam room. Her in his arms, her whole body limp and violently shaking as she'd come stumbling from the checkout line at the grocery store. The flowing rivers of tears on her face, the look of shock in her eyes, the admission that ripped from her lips like a slap to his face.
"It was him, Jax. It was him and he talked to me. He touched me."
He opens his eyes, and his hunger for blood is only deeper, fiercer, stronger. She needs this, he tells himself. Or maybe he does. He needs to feel blood spill from this, because he knows without any doubt that it was Mackey who had nearly killed her. It's not like Tara, where everything is shadowy figures and confusion. It's not rumors and whispers in the night, uncertain and without confirmation. Brooke knew from the second that she'd seen Mackey in that grocery store that he had been the man that had left her for dead in that parking lot, and he wants to give her what he can't give Tara. He wants to give her revenge.
"He looks normal."
Opie drags him from his fantasies of revenge, the tall biker in the passenger seat with his hair pulled up in a bun and last night's festivities hanging over his eyes. Despite the sex induced exhaustion and hangover, he'd insisted on coming with, probably to make sure that Jax didn't do something stupid. They had enough heat on them right now from the sheriff's death, even without Brooke and her past. They didn't need anymore trouble, not with the reporters snooping around.
"Yeah, well that doesn't mean he gets to live." Jax snarls, his gaze focusing on Mackey as the guard leaned down to kiss his wife and hand her a glass of lemonade. He wonders if Sookie Mackey knows what kind of shit her husband does late at night at seedy Oakland bars with pretty drunk girls, or if she's had a taste of what happens when someone says no to him. Maybe that's why she overlooks the fact that her husband is a soulless monster.
Opie shifts in the seat beside him, stone faced as ever as he looks down at his cell phone. It's been buzzing non-stop now that word's out about Brooke and Rachel staying under the protection of the club, and there isn't a doubt in Jax's mind that it's not Lyla. "Rachel said that Wendy just dropped the boys off. If you're gonna do something, you better do it quick. Kids make shitty liars when it comes to alibi's." He grunts, running a hand over his beard.
He sighs, looking at the couple once again. What could he do, out here in broad daylight? Nothing. There's nothing that he can do that won't take him away from his boys, away from his club and his responsibility as a president, away from...
Brooke. Brooke, who's currently taking care of his boys. Brooke, who smiles in her sleep when she's curled up on his chest. Brooke, in his passenger seat with the wind in her air and a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. Brooke with the golden green eyes that he gets lost in, with the light brown waves that he runs his fingers through, with the sun kissed skin as soft as he's ever felt beneath his calloused hands. Brooke, who's been through hell, and still manages to have a bigger heart than anyone he's ever known. Brooke, Brooke, Brooke. She's the reason why he's sitting in front of the house.
And somehow, the image of her waiting at prison gates with his boys in her arms is the reason why he puts the truck and drive and gets the hell away from the madness he wants to create. Because she deserves more than a long goodbye and fifteen to life. She deserves someone who's going to be there for her, who can take care of her, who can make sure that no matter what she's protected. And he can't do that from a prison cell.
They don't talk as the drive back to the club, Opie silently glaring at the rear view mirror and Jax's grip so tight on the steering wheel that he knuckles go white. His mind is going about thirty thousand miles an hour and he's dying to get on his bike and just ride off into the distance, but there's no option for that right now. There's just his best friend in the passenger seat, his girl back at home and his kids waiting for him, and maybe that's enough to keep the monster locked up inside of him.
Maybe.
- x - x - x - x - x - x -
Just as Rachel had predicted, the media swarms the clubhouse within a week of the press statement that she makes at the police station later that afternoon.
It starts with a van parked outside the clubhouse about an hour after it's happened, conspicuous enough that Happy saunters right up to it and pisses in front of the passenger side door like it's just an afternoon ritual. He even writes his name onto the grey sidewalk for effect, grinning maniacally as he hums "Singing In The Rain" to no one in particular. He's half expecting a cop to jump out of the back and ticket him for indecent exposure, but the three men in the van just watch in disgust and peel off into the distance.
Jax gets the call while he's at the park with Brooke and his boys after he gets back from his tour around Mackey's subdivision. Abel's giggling his head off as she pushes him on the swings, and he's too busy to pay any mind to the hollering biker on the other line that's swearing that it wasn't the cops, that tells him that something seems a little too fucked up outside the club. He just tells Hap to keep an eye out, and goes back to Thomas and his bottle of formula. He's too wrapped up in the afternoon to even care about cameras and media attention, to give a shit if anyone comes looking for the woman he dares to call his girlfriend - despite their current lack of a label.
To everyone that passes by, they look like the perfect family. Another mom at the playground even comments to Jax that his son looks just like his beautiful brown haired mommy, and gestures to Brooke across the playground. He can't even muster up a refusal, that Thomas's mother is dead, because seeing Brooke with Abel makes the broody biker feel like his heart's a little bit more whole, and so he just thanks the woman and tells her that he's the luckiest guy in the world.
In the mere hours that she's been around his kids, he feels like Brooke has just eased into his little fucked up family, finally piecing back together what's been broken. Of course she'd been nervous to meet the boys when Wendy had dropped them off, his ex-wife relentlessly interrogating him over the phone of when she'd be taking them back after she'd left the house, but his woman hadn't even blinked when she heard him say that he'd let the spiteful blonde know when he needed her to babysit his kids. It's like she knows that she belongs here with them, like she'd been sent here by some higher power to make them all whole.
He doesn't say a word to Brooke when she comes back holding Abel's hand, he just presses a kiss to her forehead and hands her Thomas. Brooke coos and giggles when his little boy smiles in her arms, holding him close to her chest. Thomas gurgles happily, his cheek resting on the curve of her collarbone, and all is right in Jax's world again.
"This is the happiest I've ever been," she murmurs into his ear when he walks into the bedroom later on that night. Thomas is asleep in her arms, his thumb tucked between his little lips, and Abel is asleep in his room. There's a sparkle in Brooke's eyes that he's never seen before, and he knows that her words are true. There's no pressure to be physical because they're already so intimate with each other, despite the fact that he's yet to take her the way he longs to. Despite his best intentions to lose himself in her, he falls asleep with Brooke in his arms and Thomas in the bassinet next to the bed.
Another van shows up outside the club the next day, when the two of them take the boys into town for lunch and some shopping. Jax walks hand in hand with Abel while Brooke pushes Thomas in the stroller, and he overhears a store clerk tell her how beautiful her son is. Brooke's eyes widen with shock, but his heart soars when she thanks the clerk and tells her that he looks just like his daddy. The bemused smile that plays on his lips makes him feel human, like a father, like a lover, like a person. He feels like he's not stuck in same rut that he's been in for the last few months, the cycle of anger and self loathing and blame that's encircled his neck like a noose. He feels free, and he has her to thank for that. He doesn't answer his phone when Opie calls because he doesn't feel the need to. Whatever it is, the guys can handle it.
But when Jax and Brooke pull up to the club after her doctor's appointment the next day, after being given the all clear from her doctor for any and all physical activity and Jax dying to have one of the girls watch his kids so he can have a night alone with his woman, it's not just one truck.
It's seven trucks, ten news crews and a local radio station, and Brooke looks like she's going to lose her fucking mind. Her eyes widen in horror because they're not alone in the truck. They're never alone these days, a fact which he both loves and curses because all he wants to do is strip her naked and just god damn...
"Daddy, what are all the cameras for?"
His thoughts of a more carnal nature are interrupted as Abel perks up from his booster seat in the back of the car, Thomas quietly slumbering in the car seat beside them. His blue eyes are wide, small hands pressed to the glass window, and he's looking up at Brooke like his whole world just exploded.
Jax immediately reaches over to the woman in his shotgun seat, squeezing her hand tightly. "Just breathe, babe. They had to come sometime right?" He murmurs quietly enough for her to hear, but Abel to be oblivious to. "The cameras are here for Daddy, little man. Nothin' to be worried about." He says to his son as he throws him a wink, giving him a lopsided smile.
But Brooke's fear doesn't pass as she clutches his hand, her eyes focusing on the dozens of cameras that are flashing around them. He knows it's not about the bruises that have finally healed, or even the brace that's still wrapped around her knee. It's about so much more than that because for the last year she's been running, and this is what's become of her first stop. Nothing but the press invading her life all over again, and Jax knows that's exactly what she's been running from. She likes her privacy, likes the quiet, and likes being able to do what she wants without a camera shoved in her face.
"Where is Rachel? She's supposed to be handling this." Brooke snaps from her seat, sliding a pair of sunglasses on in an effort to hide herself. Normally he'd tell her that there's no way someone as gorgeous as her, especially in the red sundress she dons today, could hide herself behind a pair of shades, but he makes the smart decision and remains silent. "I swear, if she's with Opie on that bike again..."
"Yeah, cause you're gonna tell Rachel to fuck off." Jax says with a laugh as he parks the truck. "You can't fire someone you don't pay babe. I don't think it works like that."
Her eyes narrow dangerously as she gets out of the truck, and he sees her freeze. She's watching the gates close, practically counting the seconds as Happy and Rat get the thing shut, and she finally starts breathing again when the locks click and rattle. Jax feels it tug at his heartstrings, the way she relaxes instantly when the cameras aren't around, but he opens up the back door and helps Abel get out of the truck wordlessly. She doesn't need anymore pressure in her life, and certainly not from him.
"Can we say hi to the cameras, Daddy? Are you famous?" Abel chirps as he's lifted out of the truck, peering at the green tarped gate inquisitively.
"Maybe tomorrow, bud. You're gonna spend the night with Uncle Opie and Auntie Rachel." Jax says with a grin, looking over at the brunette that unbuckles Thomas from his car seat with her brightest smile and words of kindness. Brooke glances up at him, her lips pursing, and he throws her a lopsided smile and a wink. "I have to do something really important with Brooke tonight, and Daddy just can't wait another night to get it done."
She swats him from across the car, her sour expression turning to a playful smirk. She shakes her head as she lifts Thomas into her arms, but he doesn't miss the excitement that fills her eyes. They're both more than ready, they're consenting adults, and he doesn't know any better way to tell her how he feels than to trust her with his sons and make love to her in the bed that they already share.
He loves her. He's madly in love with Brooke Davis, and he'd shout it from the rooftops if the world wouldn't think that he'd gone crazy. Three weeks isn't enough to know someone, Jax, let alone love them, Wendy had chastised him when she'd called about his boys. He'd referred to Brooke as the woman that he loved, and it had sparked outrage in his ex.
But he doesn't care if it's three weeks or three years. He knows her like the back of his hand, better than the engine of his Harley. He knows all the mysteries, all the hidden truths, all the faults and perfections, and all he wants is Brooke. He loves her and he doesn't give a damn what anyone else thinks about it. He doesn't even give a damn if she loves him back. It's a selfless kind of love, which is more than a little new for him.
They walk into the club together, Abel holding onto Jax's hand and Brooke bouncing Thomas in her arms, and he can feel the shift in pressure before the hurricane that is his old lady. Rachel sits at the bar with Opie at her side, her perfectly made up face in a permanent scowl as she stares at the television behind the counter. Jax can just barely hear it as they walk in, Chibs immediately running up to Brooke and taking Thomas before gesturing to the TV screen.
"You might wan' to take a look a' this, li'l hen." The Scotsman murmurs as he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. "S'been on for the las' few minutes."
"...and in the news out of Los Angeles, socialite and Clothes Over Bro's CEO Victoria Davis was arrested today for insurance fraud and tax evasion. According to the court filing, Mrs. Davis collected a large sum of money from her daughter's life insurance policy after the LAPD had declared her dead after a nine month manhunt for the missing fashion designer. As you all know, Miss Davis recently resurfaced in a small town in Northern California after an unfortunate car accident with her head of public relations, Miss Rachel Gattina. While reports of why the check was collected by Mrs. Davis are less than clear to the media, Gattina's statement to the press two days ago at the San Joaquin Sheriff's Department is crystal in reference that the two women were not even close to involved to Mrs. Davis's crimes..."
His eyes turn to Brooke, who watches in absolute disgust as her mother is led up the Los Angeles Courthouse steps, all perfectly coiffed curls, staggeringly sharp nails and designer clothes. Jax doesn't see much resemblance now that Brooke's hair has lightened up, only the coldness that's associated with their less than perfect mother/daughter relationship. Bitchtoria, that's what Rachel calls her, and as he watches the footage he knows that she's not exaggerating.
He's reaching for her just in case she collapses right then and there, threading his arm around her waist. But she doesn't. Brooke just presses a kiss to Thomas's forehead, despite the tears in her eyes, and shakes her head. "I can't believe this is happening." She mumbles against his son's curls, and she looks like she's somewhere between crying from the tragedy and screaming from the shock.
"You good babe?" Jax murmurs, leaning close to her. He nuzzles her neck as she nods, but her broken smile gives her away. He knows how much this is killing her, how much all of this hurts her, and he keeps his arm loosely wrapped around her waist as a sort of protection.
But as her gaze turns to Rachel, who calmly gives Brooke the "privacy needed" nod towards the kitchen, he watches her go from warm and inviting to the cool and dangerously fierce force of nature that she can be when the world gets crazed around her. It's the same look that she'd had the morning that she pointed a gun at him. It's strength, pure and untainted, that appears in her eyes as she hands Thomas to Jax.
"I'll be back in a few minutes." Brooke murmurs before pressing a soft kiss to his lips, before she caresses the side of his baby son's face with the gentlest touch and smiles at him one last time before she heads into the back.
He watches her go, watches the woman that he completely adores disappear behind the steel panel of the kitchen door, and sighs before moving towards Opie, his hand cradling the back of Thomas's head protectively. "How pissed was Rachel this morning?" Jax says as he gestures to the television.
Opie glares daggers at him, and he knows exactly how pissed. His right hand has been in a pleasantly good mood since Rachel got released from the hospital, probably because of the bed breaking sex the two had every chance they got. Literally bed shattering. They'd had to replace the furniture in Opie's room twice in the last week.
The brutish biker slides his hands over Abel's ears, his stony expression still intact. "Your girlfriend cost me my morning lay. This better be a fuckin' emergency for me to miss out on that." Opie snarls before dropping his hands, the little boy settling in his lap.
Jax smirks, staring at the kitchen door with a worried gaze. He can only imagine how frenzied it was getting behind it, considering how Brooke had looked when they pulled up to the club.
"What the fuck do you mean the cops want to talk to us?"
Brooke stands half a foot from Rachel at most, her hazel eyes set ablaze. She's in full mother lioness mode, her two little cubs out at the bar with their father. The cameras, the news crews, the trucks, all of it is too much for the little boys that are outside. All of it is too much for her to begin with, but to involve Jax's family? It's beyond that, far beyond the acceptable terms of being a celebrity in hiding. Talking to police just takes it even further, takes them deeper into the scandal that she so desperately wants to distance herself from.
"Would you rather they indict us right along with her?" Rachel snaps back, running her fingers through her long straight locks. "The Los Angeles Police Department needs you to make a statement and if they like what they hear, they let us go. No charges. Full immunity."
The brunette folds her arms across her chest, feeling a chill run down her spine. Go back to L.A.? Talk to a few police officers? It all seems so simple, but it never is. The world is not that easy, not for people who run away from their problems and pray to everything holy that they never catch up to them. "You and I both know that they're not just going to let us go. There's too much on the table now with her indictment. We need an attorney, we need to be protected."
Rachel pinches the bridge of her nose, her exasperation evident. "You think that an expensive lawyer's going to help? They'll look at us like we're the criminals if we go in their with one, because they'll see it as defensive. They'll think we had a part of Victoria's bullshit. If we go in there and just tell the truth-"
"Truth? Are you fucking kidding me, Rachel?" Brooke practically howls, her hand over her heart. "I can't just leave! I can't just leave him and the boys. I'm finally happy, I might actually have a future here. A real one. Not just some whiff of a maybe. A future. And telling that truth could cost us everything."
"It's a fucking day, Brooke! One day, and then you're back and we can forget about Victoria and all of her bullshit. You cannot be this goddamn stupid to not take the deal."
Brooke nearly explodes, barely holding on to what composure she has retained as she looks at the redhead with nothing but shock. It's her mother, there's nothing that's ever simple about the Southern ice queen that knew her way around the law. Her father, as neglectful as he'd been with her, had always made sure to gift her mother with the most fabulous attorneys whenever she ran into trouble, and there isn't a chance in hell that Victoria hasn't picked up on something in that time.
She can't even stop herself as her hand slams against the kitchen's prep counter, her hazel eyes dark with indignation. "It's not just a day! It's a trial, and testimonies, and the press. It's going back there, to those people that watched her take my company from me and tear it apart and just sat idly by and let it happen."
"I promise you, one day and you're back with Jax and the boys. Period."
Brooke sighs, shaking her head. A day without her man, her boys - because they've suddenly become hers in a whirlwind shift that can only be called fate. She can't imagine a night without being in Jax's arms, without the smell of Thomas's soft skin as he slumbers on her chest, without Abel's giggle when she pushes him high on the swings. Just the idea of it is scathingly painful. "I have to come back, Raye. It is not an option, not even in the slightest. It's the only result."
"I know, I know. You've got a family now and all that shit. I don't wanna take you from it either." Rachel says through pursed lips, glancing over her shoulder. Her distaste is apparent, but she knows what the redhead's looking at.
Opie's still seated at the bar with Abel in his lap, bouncing him up and down in an effort to keep him calm as the little boy repeats his question of where she is over and over again. Brooke can just barely see Jax standing beside him, nervously glancing back and forth between his son and the room that she currently stands in, and the tension slips from her like she's dropping a bad habit.
They both have things tying them to Charming, and she's more than happy to be safe within the confines of the small town. The long arm of the law has to reach around the Sons in order to get to them here, and it gives her a sense of protection.
They exit the kitchen quietly, and she prays that Jax can't tell how upset she is. Brooke plasters on a smile as she exits the room, and Abel comes running towards her. The corners of her mouth soften to reality as she picks the little blonde boy up into her arms, spinning him around for a moment. "Did you miss me, little man?" Brooke croons to him, leaning her forehead against his.
Abel smiles from ear to ear, giving her an eskimo kiss as he nuzzles his nose against hers. "Can we go home, Brookie?" He murmurs in his soft voice, endearing her to him even more. He's known her for days, a mere blink of his existence, and somehow he's got every single one of her heartstrings plucked.
Brooke looks to Jax, her emotions betraying her as she smiles while tears fill her eyes. She presses a soft kiss to Abel's forehead, nodding as she runs her fingers through his sandy blonde locks. "Yeah, buddy. Let's go home." She whispers into his hair, moving closer to the bar where Rachel and Opie sit.
Her boyfriend's blue eyes focus on her, his hand reaching out for hers. Jax's fingers entwine with hers, weaving her closer to him as he pulls her forward. He doesn't say a word, not one as she sets Abel down and leans into his arms. He wraps them around her like a warm blanket, pulling her body to him as her free hand holds onto Abel's. Brooke sinks into him, her face pressed to his chest as he crushes her against it.
And then he just says it, like it's the only thing in the world that would've made sense right there in that moment. It just spills from his lips and into her ears, astounding and filling her senses with a heavenly sensation as her eyes slip shut, savoring every syllable.
"I love you." Jax murmurs into her ear, and her heart overflows with the words. Everything somehow comes together in that moment, just for those few seconds, and she knows it's the calm before the storm. It's the beginning of her new life and the end of her old.
"I know." Brooke whispers into the safety of his skin, her lips pressed against his collarbone that's been left exposed by the blue flannel button up he wears. It's a quiet perfect moment in the middle of chaos, and she lingers in it as Thomas tangles a hand into her curls and Abel clings to her side. Because for that moment, she has her boys, and her man, and she has everything she never knew that she wanted in her arms.
They drive around for a while, until the cameras fade from her view and she can truly breathe. Brooke can feel Jax watching her as she scoots into the middle of the bench seat and lays her head on his shoulder while he drives, listening the the rumble of his heartbeat as he examines her face for any sign of distress. But she knows that there's nothing, not even a glimmer of it in sight as the boys fall asleep in the backseat and Jax taps the steering wheel to the beat of the radio, because she's in the arms of the man who loves her. The man who loves her, who somehow sees through all the crazy and into her soul like no one has before. It's only been three weeks, she reminds herself. This is too fast, this is too much. She shouldn't be saying things like those three little words that make her heart sing.
But she is. Brooke feels everything and more as they pull into the driveway, every single inch of her heart swelling with affection as she looks over her shoulder at the two boys in the backseat. They're sound asleep, small snores escaping from Abel's little lips and Thomas's thumb securely sucked into his mouth, and they look so safe.
"When do they become Sons?"
The question slips from her lips after they've gotten the boys into bed, her hazel eyes wide with fear as she stands in the doorway with him at her side. Brooke's never been more terrified of anything after hearing the stories of members long past from Happy, about the fate of Opie's first wife and his father, about Tara. They're so innocent, so filled with wonder, and she can't ever imagine Abel to be anything but the happy and curious little boy that he is today.
She knows she's jarred Jax by the sigh that escapes his lips, her gaze turning back to find that he's watching them too. "Never, if I have any say in the matter." Jax mumbles, and she feels his grip on her hand tighten. "My mom and Clay, they pushed me in. Glorified it. Made it the holiest profession that I could ever have. Tara was the only one that ever saw through Gemma's bullshit, even when we were seventeen."
The mention of Jax's wife makes Brooke's chest tighten, the brunette nodding slowly as she tries to comprehend. But she can't. She can't make a comparison to her charmed life, to one of debutante balls and couture clothing lines, of Friday night basketball games and tight little cheer uniforms. And so she doesn't say a word, not one, because she'd just be lying if she said she understood anyway.
But Jax doesn't stop talking, doesn't take his eyes off of his boys as his hand fiercely clings to hers. "I was gonna get out, you know. Couple of times. Once when Tara was leaving for Chicago, again after I got out of Stockton..." He pauses and his icy blue stare turns back to her, his body leaning heavily against the door frame. "I never wanted this life for my boys. I wanted to get them as far away as possible from all of it, but the club..."
"It's like gravity." Brooke murmurs, echoing his words from the grocery store only days before. She smiles softly, reaching out to him and brushing her fingertips along his slicked back locks. His brow creases with emotion as his eyes slip shut, and she knows that she's soothing the pain that's bubbled up from the very depths of Jax's soul. His grief is an animal, a living breathing thing that haunts him, and she doesn't know how to make it die. She just hopes that simple moments like this make it better.
"You told me you loved me." She says softly, her hand moving from the side of his head to the warmth of his side as she moves closer to him. Brooke's hazel eyes search his face for any givings of a lie, peering up at him as Jax shuts the door to the boys' room.
"Uh huh." Jax mumbles, his half moon grin tugging at the corner's of his lips. "And you said you knew."
Brooke nods with a gentle smile of her own as he winds an arm around her lower back tugging her close to him. The chemistry between them crackles in the air like heat lightning, and it nearly takes her breath away when he dips his head down and presses a kiss to her neck. "That was very old ladylike, in case you were wondering." Jax murmurs against her skin, and shivers slide down her spine like welcome friends.
She weaves her hand into his hair, tugging lightly at the back of his head to force him to look at her. The other's made its way along the sinewy muscles of Jax's chest, and she bites her lower lip when she gets a look at him. Lust, pure and uncontrollable desire has filled Jax's wanting stare, and she feels like it'll devour her whole if she just lets him stare at her all night. She focuses on him, her hand moving from his hair along the curve of his collarbone, fingertips skating along the exposed skin of his neck and jawline until they reach his lips. She traces them as Jax hungrily watches her, and she knows they're at the point of no return.
Los Angeles or Charming. The company or the club. Her past or her future. All the decision collide as her lips part, her husky voice trembling dangerously.
"I love you, too."
"I love you, too."
Jax's heart practically bursts and he literally feels his jeans tighten against him as his lips slam against hers, every movement desperate because he is desperate. He's fucking dying for her as her hands tear at his shirt, tugging it off of him roughly before he kisses her so hard he's scared - nah, he knows he's bruising her. But he doesn't care. He doesn't give two shits if her perfectly plump lips are left raw from overuse, if the way that she's scratching at the back of his wifebeater leaves deep gashes, if his rough hands leave trails of black and blue on her perfect ass as he leans down and lifts her up into his arms. It's not about winning her heart because he knows he already has it, those three little words are all he needs to hear to know he does. Tonight is about making sure that her body knows it too, even if it takes all night.
She wraps her agile legs around his body and grinds herself into him, nearly making him lose his goddamn mind right then and there. "Fuck, Brooke." Jax gasps against her lips. "We're not gonna make it to the bedroom if you keep that shit up."
"That's the point." Brooke whispers into his kiss in that breathy tone he loves, and he growls wordlessly in response because he's too busy kissing the hell out of her to pointlessly argue. It'll just make him want her more anyway.
They're in the bedroom in moments, a chaotic mess of moans and urgent hands moving to their own beat. Jax nearly slams the door closed with his foot, but Brooke's body shuts it for him when he turns and presses her against it, all the while letting her body slide along his until her feet hit the floor.
Her hands are magic, nimbly undoing his belt and jeans as he rushes to get the zipper of her red sundress down, making a mental note to demand that everything she buys next time he takes her shopping is the same shade of crimson because goddamn does she look good in it. Red is her color, the designated Brooke Davis shade, and he would've philosophized more about it if he wasn't trying so damn hard to get the thing off of her.
"Having issues, Jackson?" Brooke teases as her lips trail against his five o'clock shadow, and he groans when they finally reach his neck. Doesn't she realize how wild she's driving him, that this'll only last for a few moments if she doesn't stop? He wants more of her, he needs more of her, he craves every inch of her but he needs this to slow down, for it to last. He needs her know that she means more than just some careless fuck that he'll forget about in the morning, that she's the woman that he loves and that he'd die a thousand deaths for her.
And so with all the self-control he possesses, Jax stops, barely managing to grabs the reins on his own body as he stumbles a few steps back. He looks forward to find Brooke pouting against the door and she's so gorgeous with her mussed hair and raw lips that he nearly rips her panties off and fucks her against the door of the bedroom. Jax has to physically stop himself, leaning forward and placing his hands on either side of her head. His forehead rests against hers as he tries to catch his breath, and he groans as her hands slide up his now naked chest greedily.
"Problem?" Brooke pants out, smirking up at him as she leans back against the door. She looks effortlessly sexy like this, completely undone, and it makes Jax want her even more - if that's possible at this point.
Her hands slide down his chest and rest on his belt, and he swears up and down to everything holy that he's losing his goddamn mind as he jerks his hips away from her. "Slow." Jax chokes out, his hands reaching for the curves of her waist. They glide effortlessly down to her hips before they spin her around in his arms, causing the woman in front of him to gasp. His hands take hers and raise them above her, one hand pinning her with little force and the other moving back down her back. He tugs at the zipper, dragging it down the back of her dress as he nuzzles his lips against her neck, nipping gently at the skin before his teeth tug gently at her earlobe. Her satisfied moan makes him smirk heavily, pressing on as he leans close to her. "I want this slow, Brooke. I want to memorize every fucking inch of you, until this body knows that it belongs to me, and nobody else - because from this moment on, you're mine."
Brooke's body shivers beneath his hands as he pushes off her dress, the crimson fabric falling to the floor. Jax's breath hitches in his throat as his eyes skim the frame he so adores, creamy porcelain skin revealed to him in the sanctity of their bedroom - because it's their's now, this holy place where she falls asleep in his arms and he feels like he can actually breathe and be human again. He almost does a double take because he can't believe that this is happening, that they're finally here after weeks of fucked up situations and feelings that seemed too quick to be real. But as his hands slide down her now bare waist, savoring every inch of her curves. His palms glide over the lacy black underwear that hug her just right, Brooke's wordless moan urging him forward.
His fingers hook the fabric and slide them south, and he swears that his heart stops in his chest when Brooke turns around to face him. There's nothing hidden from him anymore now that he's physically stripped her down like the emotional walls that have dropped for her. There isn't a single word that can describe what he feels because there's nothing left to say. All the words have been said and there isn't enough time in the day for him to do all of the things he wants to do to show her what he's feeling, but he'll damn well try anyway.
"You are so beautiful." Jax mumbles as he stands to his feet, his hands cupping her cheeks as he savors her. He can feel her smile against his lips, and he knows that in that moment his whole life is changing course.
Why?
Because as Brooke runs her lips along every tattoo that she's already exposed, he knows that she truly loves him too, and that's all that he could've ever asked for in this fucked up life that he calls his own. He knows it when she tugs off his jeans and slides his boxers down his legs, when they fall back together onto the flannel sheets of the bed, when he wraps his muscular arms around her waist and pulls her as close to his body as he possibly can.
She's breathless and he's finding that he's addicted the way she looks when she loses herself in being with him, when the careless ecstasy fills those gold flecked irises that he drifts away into, and he stops moving. Jax doesn't want to move, not a single inch, as he looks down at her, Brooke gazing up at him with that gentle smile he can't get enough of. She's letting him see straight into her soul, and he knows that she trusts him with everything she's got. It's all he needs to let go, his body sliding within hers with a sensation that can only be described as coming home, and the moan that leaves his lips feels like it's been caged from the moment that he met her.
"Brooke..."
"Brooke..."
Her word is exploding and colliding as her legs tighten around Jax, Brooke's back arching up off the bed as he fills her to the brim, and she never wants it to stop. She can't get words out as he slowly inches out of her, only to push into her even deeper than she thought possible. The sound of her name on his lips nearly sends her over the edge right then and there because for the first time in so long, she feels like she belongs somewhere, belongs to him and this world that she's stumbled into. Jackson Teller is hers, for better or worse, and as he rests his forehead against hers and begins to move ever so gently, she catches herself praying that he won't ever be claimed by someone else.
"I love you," she whispers into his ear as her hands trail down the massive black tattoo on his back, her lips pressing to his shoulder as his relentless thrust causes moans so loud that she's terrified she might wake the boys - but that doesn't stop either of them.
They are a blur of movements as they roll atop the sheets of their bed, the two of them becoming one conjoined flame of breathless utterances of adoration as they hold onto each other for dear life. The walls around their hearts fall as they dive in to the chaos together, and suddenly there is no world around them. It falls away, piece by piece, until there is nothing left but Jax Teller and Brooke Davis making love on scratchy flannel sheets. There is no club, there are no crooked family trees, there is no past and there is no future. There's only two bodies in the present as they reach their climaxes, her teeth sinking into his shoulder as he embeds his hand into her curls, pressing her against his skin to keep her screams from echoing the house as she bites down so hard that she nearly draws blood. Two "i's" become a "we" and everything else fades like a tortured memory as Brooke's head lays on Jax's chest, her body still wrapped around him like a vine.
"Jesus fuck..." Jax pants out as his fingers play a soft symphony on the curve of her spine, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips while his other hand aimlessly twirls a curl around his fingers. "Why didn't we do that sooner?"
Brooke giggles against his warm skin, kissing his chest softly and tasting the salty sweat that's begun to bead upon his skin. "Because we are stupid, stupid people who should listen to Rachel and Opie more often." She murmurs as she rests her chin just above his heart, her calm gaze drinking in his peaceful smile. He looks completely serene, the fierce president of the Sons relinquishing his body to a more untroubled version of himself, and she makes a promise to herself to always give him these moments for however long she's here.
Jax laughs, a boyishly charming sound that makes her heart sing a thousand melodies, and his hands continue their trail along her skin. They've found a home in each other in that moment, as the two of them silently fall asleep in each other's arms, somewhere south of nowhere and somewhere north of their pasts. In the room beside them sleep Abel and Thomas, peacefully dreaming of whatever fantasies they can imagine. The house is quiet, the world around them spins as if nothing has changed, but the two of them know that their worlds will never be the same - and that for the first time in so long, that isn't a bad thing.
- x - x - x - x - x - x -
She's never liked this house. It's eerily quiet, the house once filled with laughter now all too silent. Even the birds that Gemma keeps better fed than most children are oddly mute. Maybe it's the fact that all the happiness seems to have drained from it now that both Tara and Clay are dead. Or maybe it's because Jax probably hasn't been there since Tara met her untimely end. Maybe it's all of it that's turned Gemma Teller's home into a funeral parlor.
Or at least that's what she tells herself while she sits in the dining room, rapping her long nails on the table as she waits for the whistling of the tea kettle. She shouldn't be here, she knows that. She shouldn't even be within twenty feet of this house, not after everything that Gemma's done to her. She should be keeping her path in the other direction, but when her ex mother in law had called, Wendy had come running.
She tosses her blonde locks over her shoulder as she hears the kettle on the stove whistle, and for the first time she's thankful for the quiet. Silence means means that she doesn't have to ask anyone why Juice Ortiz is staying in her apartment, or why Gemma's lying to Jax about it. It means she doesn't have to ask where Gemma was when Tara was killed, and that's the question that scares her the most.
Wendy doesn't look up when she hears the snap of Gemma's leather boots against the floor, the dagger like heels all she needs to know that the Teller matriarch has finished making her a cup of tea. "I don't like this, Gemma." She murmurs, shaking her head as she takes the mug. "This seems a little too close to home."
"You want that bitch raisin' your son?" Gemma snaps as she takes a seat across the table, crossing her legs. "You're one month away from gettin' pushed out of the picture, tops. She's got Jax wrapped around her little french manicured finger and she's gonna make sure that you never get near those boys again. That's just how it goes with junkies, sweetheart."
Wendy can't help but flinch at the intonation of her psuedo-mother's voice, brown eyes glaring across the table. "What exactly are you proposing, then."
She can't stand the Cheshire Cat smile that spreads across Gemma's lips. It makes Wendy feel sick to her stomach, her free hand clenching like she's preparing herself to be hit.
"Juice owes us. Been stayin' at your place, after all."
"Gemma..." Wendy starts, and her whole body is crying out that this is wrong, that she's being used for Gemma's own violent ends. This is how it started with Tara getting her to help, and that bitch wound up with a meat fork in the base of her skull.
But she doesn't get anything else out. Gemma's up on her feet before she can finish her sentence, before thoughts can reach actions, and her voice echoes against the walls of the house. "Jax ain't ever gonna know. She'd just disappear. He'd probably think it was whoever beat the shit out of her in the first place."
She wants to say no. She wants to tell Gemma that this is bat shit crazy, to fuck off, that this woman hasn't done anything to deserve this shit. Brooke's not even that bad, not nearly as bad as Tara had been. She seems genuine, kind even, and she's as close to an old lady as Wendy is a nun.
"I'm not really comfortable with this. At all." The blonde sets her cup down, standing up. She can make it to the door in a few seconds, out to her car in a couple more. She won't pretend for a second that Gemma doesn't terrify her, because she does. The situation at hand only makes it more so.
Gemma's claw like nails grip the edge of the table, and her eyes narrow to slits. "I guess you forgot that you owe me too, bitch." She growls. "I didn't get you into that rehab for nothin', keep that needle out of your arm for no good reason. Besides, it ain't like you went running to Jax to tell him that you knew where Juicy was. "
Fear singes her skin like wildfire, and the third degree burns that spill across her mind force her into the realization that Wendy doesn't have a way out. There's no next move here. Gemma has her pushed into a corner with her back to the wall, and she knows it.
Wendy's eyes fill with tears as she nods somberly, a tight smile pulling at her lips. "You always knew how to fuck me over, Gem." She spits out like acid. She grits her teeth as she nods, waving her hands up in the air. "Do what the fuck you want. I'm not standin' in your way. I learned to stay out of it a long time ago, right around the time your son put a needle in my arm when he was pretending to talk to me about my son."
She doesn't know what she's expecting. Maybe for Gemma to act like the mother Wendy always saw her. Maybe for her to apologize for the things that have happened to her while she's been a part of their world. Something, anything to show that the woman she's looked up to for a good chunk of her life is actually human.
But Gemma just smirks at her, her painted lips pulling from her teeth. "Don't act like you didn't have that comin' sweetheart."
She doesn't wait to give her a response, to give the old lady once referred to as queen of the bikers another chance to verbally knock her lights out. Wendy just turns on her heel and walks out the door, trying to ignore the tears that sting her eyes like pepper spray. She just wants to get the fuck away from Gemma, from it all. She just wants her son. But it's never that simple when it comes to the Sons. She just hopes that the brunette residing in Jax's life understands that before it's too late.
