A/N: I'm clearing up for a guest reviewer that Rhiannon got in the accident on her way home from Oakland, where she had the abortion! (I don't even know if they had a clinic there back then or if they do now, I'm just rolling with it)

Also, if anyone sees that I'm getting anything wrong with the legal process here, please DM me and let me know! They are ALWAYS open and I never mind! I'm getting my current info off Google.

PPS: I am so sorry it's taken me months. I've been SO busy with family issues and such.

In another life, I would make you stay
So I don't have to say you were
The one that got away

Katy Perry — The One That Got Away

Dealing with Henry Lin first thing in the morning following a wine headache wasn't Rhiannon's idea of a great day. Her leave was up at the beginning of next week, yet a surprise acquisition had her sitting in his office. Mergers were something she could do in her sleep. It was a usual verbal tennis match that ended in both parties getting what they wanted. The only reason she had even shown up was that Henry Lin was the very definition of a VIP and it pulled her out of bed on a Sunday morning.

"I think the wording here is a little unclear and it might confuse a few people who might not be fully fluent in English. Maybe instead of 'accruement', we should shoot for 'increase.' If this is a template we're wanting for in future scenarios with future acquisitions, we want everyone to know what they're agreeing to," Rhiannon recommended. Tension was thick in the air and the daggers shot between men told her that this wasn't an easy decision. The hostile atmosphere was amplified by a drafty room with a nearly too-small table and people standing all around them. It wasn't lost on her that she was also the only woman in the room.

"Strike accrue and replace it with increase." James Belleville was a misogynistic old man whose time was spent harassing female employees and spent time talking circles to rack up a bigger bill. Most clients loathed him as a result, yet no one could argue with his methods. Rhiannon could feel his eyes glaring into her for her suggestion and her thumb simply twisted the onyx ring on her right hand.

It was why Lin preferred her presence over Belleville's.

"Stricken now," she confirmed, her pen striking through the former word and jotting down the new. Business and corporate law was mind-numbingly tedious, but no one could deny the financial benefit. It was what paid off her car and helped her pay back student loans. A lack of sleep, the wine headache, less than stellar amounts of caffeine, and the now-four hour meeting kept her from particularly caring that one of the senior partners was now annoyed.

Persistent ringing of a cellphone continued to talk over them and irritated looks were shot her way. Rhiannon fished her cellphone out of her pocket to show it was on silent and the lack of notifications. "It might be you, Mr. Lin. If you need to take a break, by all means," she suggested. She cast a glance to how Belleville shifted uncomfortably on the creaky office chair. Her legs were numb from sitting so long. "I think we can all benefit."

Perhaps she was a little selfish in her dire need for caffeine and something in her stomach.

"We can pick up again tomorrow afternoon. Something unexpected came up that needs my attention," Mr. Lin replied. He leaned over the table to extend a hand to shake hands. Rhiannon pretended not to notice he shook hers first and then Belleville's She could also pretend not to notice that while Belleville wasn't fond of her helpfulness, he was clearly fond of the way the material of her black and white striped pencil skirt fit around her ass. "Miss Westmoreland, my condolences for your uncle's death. He was a good man."

"Thank you, he was," she responded. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

The afternoon air felt heavy and thick as her heels clicked on the hot asphalt on her way to her car. Either whoever called had incredible timing or she hadn't had signal up until then when her phone rang in her pocket.

Jax.

"Westmoreland." With Belleville lurking, Rhiannon didn't want to rattle off a friendly greeting or let on that she even had anything holding her to the county. She simply waved a farewell with her keys in her hand as she opened the door to the Charger and slid inside.

"I've been trying to get a hold of you all day. Where are you?" She pulled her phone back to see the influx of notifications now spamming the screen. No previous signal. Her free hand slid the keys into the ignition and sultry heat blew into her face as the engine roared to life.

"I'm in Lodi. I had to take an impromptu meeting for work. Why, what's wrong?"

"With Henry Lin."

The heat slowly ran from hot to invitingly cool air conditioning and Rhiannon yanked the door shut. "My client was Henry Lin, yes. What's your point? You have beef with him?" Her head thudded back into her seat and her finger quickly tapped the lock button.

"Are you safe?"

Perhaps it was too hot or she was too tired; nothing computed the way it should. "As safe as one can be in Lodi. Why, is something wrong? You never fully answered my question."

"There's no beef with Lin yet, I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong. I saw your car at Lin's and some other car in the driveway at Emmett's."

Concern definitely computed. "That is my best friend's car and her fiancé is there, too. They were helping me put stuff in motion for inheritances after the house got trashed and I lost the printer. Don't worry, they're good people. That reminds me, can you stop by the house or are you able to meet me in Lodi? It'll save me from getting in Gemma's crosshairs at TM."

"Gemma's at the school to get stuff ready for the fundraiser, so TM's clear. I can't leave the garage right now, but I can carve some time out for you if you stop by."

It felt a little too casual, a little too familiar. Eleven years passing and it still felt like they were those two kids trying to make time for the other.

"I can be there in about twenty minutes or so."

"Kyle Hobart's in town. Do me a favor, don't talk to him if you see him. His kid's band's playing at the fundraiser tonight."

"So many rules for someone who's not your old lady anymore. First I need to run my meetings with Lin past you, now I can't talk to someone because you said no. Anything else while you got me on the phone? Do I need to take a specific way to TM or can't look anyone in the eye? Call you sensei when I get there? Run the rest of my schedule past you? Wait, can I stop at red lights if I hit them or should I explain to Hale that I need to talk to you first?"

Maybe it was a little cheeky to say it, but knowing his sense of humor, she'd anticipated the low chuckle she now heard. Rhiannon couldn't suppress the accompanying laugh on her end, either. Eleven years changed nothing; she could still picture that disbelieving dip of his shaking head. In fact, she nearly heard it over the line.

"Just get over here, smartass. I'll explain when you get here."

"Yes, sir."

The first thing Jax had noticed about Rhiannon when he met her was her striking blue eyes and the reckless, rebellious glint within. She held the fire that matched his, as unpredictable as the weather. Everyone had lamented that they couldn't figure out what went on in her head, yet Jax had always been able to easily read her. One that that never changed was the subtle shift in her expression or the way she carried herself. When everyone said she changed, he still knew her.

Rhiannon Monroe Westmoreland had been a force since she was fourteen and was the same even now. All the years did was give her the experience to hone what God gave her.

Travis Tritt played over the worn stereo perched on the cart between the hangars and Jax heard the telltale slam of a car door.

"Sorry, Greased Lightning, I'm just here for Teller. Kindly point me in his direction?" was the first thing he overheard and it nearly made him snort. "Thank you."

And what a fucking hurricane she was. Her chestnut hair hung in loose waves past her shoulders, she was dressed in a tight black blouse and an equally snug-fitting skirt with black heels high enough to play a role in his dirtiest fantasies later. No amount of makeup could ever conceal the freckles spattered across her nose.

"So much for waiting for instruction," he joked, swiping an old rag over his grimy hands. He shoved it into the pocket of his coveralls and tossed his head towards the office.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I had to find you first. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't make eye contact with Lowell," she quipped.

Eleven years did nothing but make him realize that he couldn't do what he normally did when they mouthed off at the other. She would have definitely complained about the grime and grease pressed up against that pretty outfit. Even if it earned him a peal of bubbly laughter when he pressed his face into her neck. Rhiannon wasn't his to keep. She was his to see for a little while longer and every second she spent there was a reminder of such. The mutual desire still reflected when he happened to catch her eye. Emmett's last wishes had dealt him a sweet hand in the form of his old love's reappearance.

Jax hadn't seen the yellow folder clutched in her hand until she slapped it on the desk and flipped it open.

"How long did it take you to perfect that?" he asked and it earned him a laugh. The interior nearly rivaled the exterior in temperature and it was on the tip of his tongue to offer to keep the door open.

"Oh, my God, fuck off." Rhiannon stacked the already neat papers and uncapped a pen with her teeth. Some things really didn't change. "So. In a weird twist of fate, Emmett left the truck to you."

And it struck again.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jax had almost suspected. No one loved that truck more than him, save for possibly Emmett or even Rhiannon. So many good times were had within the single cab on those worn seats. Even if he had no need for it, he would keep it.

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath nonetheless. "So what comes next?"

"Will's been uncontested, thankfully. Emmett didn't have any family outside my family. The truck's been paid off, we can settle the taxes whenever you can. If you want to get it inspected, we can. After Emmett's scare last spring, he got transfer-on-death registration on the truck. That was when he updated his will," she responded, ticking off little areas on the paper in front of them.

It was English, he understood the words separately, but together, they seemed to make little sense.

"Can you break it down a little more for me here?" he requested and the corners of her lips turned up into a small smile.

"Transfer-on-death means it waives probate, which is an incredibly arduous process and it gums up the works for years for no reason. The truck's not worth all that much financially, so there'd be no reason for anyone to contest the will. It also makes it way easier to switch everything to your name," she explained, using the pen to point to each section. "It does mean you and I are going to have to brave the DMV sometime soon to get everything switched over. We'll have to hammer out a time when we're both available. I can make an appointment, but something tells me it's gonna be a parting of the Red Sea to get our shit to line up. I've got stuff back to back when I get back to SF."

It reminded him, briefly, of the panic he'd had seeing her Charger outside one of Lin's establishments. Hitting one of the restaurants with Chucky and stealing fake money from the ceiling had been ballsy. The fact that someone could know her name and link her up with him, even after a decade after the fact, made a knot form in his stomach.

"When do you go back?" It was a question he didn't want to ask and the look on her face told him she hated answering it as much as she hated hearing it. She tapped the end of the pen on the counter and her mouth curved to the side.

"Friday. I have to go back to work on Monday. Lin asked me to appear at the meeting. He's been using my firm for his business for fifteen years and he doesn't particularly like the senior partner," she answered. "He's kind of a VIP. If he asks you to show up, you show up with bells on."

Jax let his eyes wander back over her again, this time pointedly, and his lips curled in a smirk when her face reddened. "Where are your bells?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she shot back, albeit a little late. If he overstepped, Rhiannon would put him in his place, but now she was playing. A personality formed in adolescence and he still knew the facets of hers. People constantly underestimated her, saw her as a naïve little kitten, when she was a goddamned wildcat. But he flustered her in ways he doubted most people could.

The response still made him snort, however.

"What's up with the club and Kyle Hobart? Why's he shunned?"

His jaw set, yet he previously asked the question neither of them wanted to hear. "He's the reason Opie got locked up. He turned tail and ran like a pussy."

Rhiannon's face softened. "I didn't know. Are Donna and the kids okay?"

"They're managing." It was the most he could say. And it was the most he would say.

Jax searched that face he had known and memorized all that time ago, from the thoughtful twist of that full mouth to the way those blue eyes attempted to busy themselves with the paper. Even if she changed the subject, he knew regret from her when he saw it. From the time she said something in the heat of an argument, her facial expression remained the same.

That pull would always be there. It dragged them back together time and time again. As long as their unfinished business remained, they would continuously be thrown back together under any given circumstance.

"Don't look at me like that." It was nearly a plea and he saw the firm angular line of her jaw set tight. "We just...need to do this so I can go."

Emmett's death, Abel's premature birth, the impending ex that loomed over their heads, it was all too easy to blame this on them. It reminded Jax of the void that would never be filled.

"I gotta head back to work. Can I stop by after the fundraiser? Or we can hash out scheduling later?" The word left a bad taste in his mouth, the idea he had to make an appointment to see her. It was the nature of the beast, the new nature of them.

"Yeah. I gotta go, anyways. I'm picking up a printer and I'm probably busy tomorrow with a meeting so if not tonight, tomorrow night will be fine," she responded. She snapped the pen cap back on and flipped the folder shut. "These are yours. I've got a copy of my own at the house."

And just as quickly as she blew back in, she blew back out.