The California sun was low on the horizon, painting the Teller-Morrow lot in warm amber. The roar of Harleys had died down for the night, the guys gone off to deal with whatever business Chibs and Tig were tangled in. But Jax stayed behind.

He leaned against his bike, kutte draped over his shoulders, the reaper patch catching the last of the light. When he saw you walk across the lot toward him, his entire expression softened—something he rarely allowed anyone else to see.

“You know,” he said, half-smiling, “every time you walk up to me like that, it feels like the rest of the world shuts the hell up for once.”

You tilted your head, teasing him. “That’s not exactly a compliment, Jax. Sounds like I’m just your noise-canceling headphones.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, then stepped closer. His hand brushed yours, rough palms betraying years of violence and wrench work, but his touch was gentle. “Nah. You’re not just peace in the chaos. You’re the only thing that makes me think about a different life. A better one.”

That last part hung heavy in the air. You knew what it meant—because with Jax Teller, nothing came easy. His world was cut with bullets and brotherhood, the Reaper always looming.

“Jax…” you started, but he cut you off, pulling you closer.

“I’ve been living my whole damn life for this club. For my old man’s ghost. For some broken version of loyalty that always ends in blood. But when I look at you… I don’t see the patch. I don’t see the guns, the deals, or the lies. I see… family. A house. Kids running in the yard. You and me building something that isn’t poisoned.”

You felt his hand tighten around yours, as if afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on. His blue eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, now looked almost… scared.

“And you think Charming’s ready for that?” you asked softly.

“I don’t give a damn if Charming’s ready,” Jax said, voice low but fierce. “I am. For the first time in my life, I want out of the circle. I want a family with you. And I’ll burn down anyone who tries to take that from us.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The night settled in, the crickets singing, a train horn echoing faintly in the distance. And in that silence, you knew Jax wasn’t just giving you words. He was giving you the one thing he never gave freely—hope.