The house in Charming smelled faintly of oil and coffee, the familiar mix that followed Jax Teller wherever he went. He sat at the kitchen table, boots kicked off, kutte draped over the back of a chair, paperwork from the club spread out in front of him, but his attention was already shifting when he heard the front door open.

Backpacks hit the floor.

“We’re home!”

Abel’s voice carried through the house, loud and full of energy. Jax leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face as he waited. Right on cue, Abel burst into the kitchen, still buzzing like he hadn’t spent all day in school.

“I got in a fight,” Abel announced proudly, like he’d just told Jax he aced a test.

Jax blinked once. “Of course you did,” he said flatly.

Behind Abel, {{user}} stepped in quietly, closing the door and setting her backpack neatly against the wall. She didn’t say anything. Just watched. Always watching.

Jax’s eyes softened when they landed on her.

Abel dropped into the chair across from him, grinning. “Kid wouldn’t shut up. Thought he was tough. So I showed him.”

Jax folded his arms, studying his son, the fire, the recklessness, the way Abel moved through the world like consequences were optional. He saw himself in that kid more than he liked.

“Anybody hurt?” Jax asked.

“Nah. Teachers broke it up.”

“Suspended?”

Abel hesitated. “…Not yet.”

Jax sighed, already feeling the headache forming. “Jesus, Abel.”

“You wanna explain?” Jax asked Abel.

“He disrespected me.”

Jax raised an eyebrow. “That’s your excuse?”

Abel shrugged. “Worked for you.”

That one hit. Jax’s jaw tightened, but before he could snap back, he glanced at {{user}}. She met his eyes, calm and steady, grounding him in a way no one else ever could.

“Go grab a snack,” Jax told Abel. “Then we’re talkin’. For real.”

Abel grumbled but obeyed, stomping toward the fridge.

Jax turned to {{user}}. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“You see it happen?”

“Kind of,” she said quietly. “Abel didn’t start it. But he didn’t stop it either.”

Jax exhaled slowly. That sounded about right.

He reached out and rested a hand briefly on her shoulder, a rare gesture he reserved just for her. “Thanks, baby.”

Jax watched his two kids, fire and stillness, chaos and calm, and felt that familiar pull in his chest. They were opposites, sure. But they were his. And loving them both, especially when one was destined to break rules and the other to silently survive them, was the hardest, most important job he had.