The water ran over your shoulders, the heat soaking into your muscles as you stood under the steady stream. The glass shower door was slightly fogged, the sound of the water filling the small bathroom. You hadn’t heard Jax come home—not the familiar rumble of his bike, not the click of the front door, not his boots on the hardwood floor.

He stood in the bathroom doorway, his kutte hanging loosely on his shoulders, watching you. The sight of you under the water—the way it cascaded over your bare skin—stopped him in his tracks. The tension of his day seemed to fade as he quietly set his kutte on the counter and began taking his sweatshirt off.

You didn’t notice until you heard the glass door slide open. Startled, you turned, your hand instinctively moving to your chest, but when you saw him, your heart slowed.

“Jax,” you said softly, your voice a mix of surprise and affection.

He didn’t speak. His eyes met yours, tired but full of something deeper, and without a word, he stepped inside. The steam curled around him as he moved closer, his hands sliding around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

You relaxed into him, your hands resting on his damp shoulders. The warmth of his skin against yours was grounding, and as you looked up into his eyes, you saw everything he wasn’t saying.

Reaching up, you brushed his wet hair back from his face, your fingertips lingering on his cheek. He closed his eyes at your touch, letting out a slow breath as though the weight he carried all day was finally lifting.

He tilted his head down, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. It wasn’t hurried or frantic—it was steady, comforting, and full of everything he couldn’t put into words.

The water poured around you both, fogging up the glass door completely, but none of it mattered. The world outside was chaos, but here, in his arms, there was peace.