Page 61 of Louder Than Words

I suck in a shaky breath, fighting the anger still clawing its way up. When I look down at her, all I can see are unshed tears—tearsI’mcausing.

My eyes soften, and I nod slowly. “Let’s go, love.”

We step around him, the bell chiming overhead as Don moves to guide us out.

“She could have said no,” Richard mutters the second I pass him.

And then everything goes completely black.

“Jax,no!” Allie screams, panic tearing through her voice.

Pain rips through every tendon in my fist as it slams into Richard’s nose—breaking it without a doubt.

I stand over him, my now cracked knuckles dripping blood onto the floor. Though I’m not entirely sure if it’s mine or his.

“You’re right! She should’ve told you no,” I scream, my throat raw and burning. “But for some fucked up reason, shelovedyou. Loved you more than herself... and itkilledher. You should be the one in the fucking ground. Not her.”

The sound of distant sirens cuts through the air just as the door slams open.

Don barrels in, eyes locked on me, and grabs my arm.

“Alright, Jax,” he says, voice low but firm. “That’s enough. Let’s go.”

26

Allie

It’s been three hours.

Three hours since I was sure I’d watch Jax—the kindest man I’ve ever met—get taken away in handcuffs. The very real, metal, not-at-all-fun kind.

And in the three hours since he didn’t end up behind bars? We haven’t moved. Not once. We’ve just sat here, in silence, while rain taps gently against the balcony door. My fingers keep drifting through his dark brown curls that now reach the tips of his ears.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask softly, smoothing his hair down.

He doesn’t answer right away. Doesn’t even move. For a second, I think he might’ve fallen asleep on me. But then he shifts slightly, adjusting his head like he’s either trying to get more comfortable or avoid the question altogether.

“That was my father.” He says it so final, like even he doesn’t believe it. And me? Idefinitelydon’t. I could’ve sworn his father was dead. Whenever he mentioned him—which was extremely rare—it was always in the past tense. Or he’d dodge the subject completely.

Thatwas hisfather?

I stay silent and resume running my fingers through his hair.

“He started drinking after he lost his job when I was thirteen.” His voice is faint, like he’s telling someone else’s story. “He was never there for me or Millie. Hell, he wasn’t even there for Mum. He’d steal her till money to the point we couldn’t afford milk. He even tried to take my guitar a couple times, so we ended up keeping it at James’s place.”

He pauses, drawing a long, shaky breath.

“Mum was hit by a drunk driver,” he admits, and it feels like my world stops spinning. “Right around the corner from where my lovely dad was, already half in the bag.”

My throat tightens, but I stay quiet.

I always wondered why he never talked about his dad the way he talked about his mom. I figured they just weren’t close. But Jax is the kind of person who bottles things up so he can be there for everyone else. Holding their burdens on his shoulders while his world crumbles. And this just goes to show that when you do—everything explodes.

But, I’m also not going to throw that in his face right now.

So instead, I hold him and let him feel this in a safe way, and just be here for him.

I lean down, press a soft kiss just above his ear, and gently smooth his hair back into place. “I’m so sorry, Jax,” I whisper into the quiet air. Not because it fixes anything, but because he deserves to hear it. “That’s not something anyone should have to go through.”