Forbidden Ties

Chapter 21: Temporary Perfection.

Jax's P.O.V.

The park was quiet, the kind of silence that hummed with the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of crickets. Stars dotted the sky above us, their glow dim compared to the faint light of the lampposts lining the path. Sam’s hand was warm in mine, her grip light but certain, like she was testing the idea of holding on.

Neither of us spoke for a while. The rhythm of our steps matched, the gravel crunching underfoot with every stride. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, watching as her gaze flitted between the path ahead and the night sky.

“I feel like everything is falling apart,” she said suddenly, her voice soft but laced with tension.

I slowed my pace, giving her the space to continue.

“I thought I had everything under control,” she went on, her thumb brushing against mine absentmindedly. “Pretending with Kyle, ignoring you, focusing on school—it was supposed to work. But now? I don’t even know which way is up anymore.”

I stopped walking, tugging her hand gently to make her stop too. She turned to face me, the moonlight catching the conflict etched on her face.

“Sam, you don’t have to pretend with me,” I said, keeping my voice low. “You don’t have to pretend at all.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She looked down, as if searching the ground for an answer she couldn’t find.

“Hey,” I said, lifting my free hand to tilt her chin up. “Look at me.”

Her eyes locked with mine, and for a moment, the whole world seemed to fall away.

“I’ve never been good with words,” I admitted, my thumb brushing against her jawline. “But I know how I feel. And I know this—whatever’s happening between us—it’s real.”

She swallowed hard, her hand tightening around mine. “I know it’s real, Jax. That’s what makes it so hard.”

“Why does it have to be hard?”

“Because it’s not just about us,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s about Kyle. It’s about Madison. It’s about this whole mess we’re in. If we—” She stopped herself, taking a deep, shaky breath. “If we do this, Jax, it changes everything. And I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start with this,” I said, stepping closer and holding her hand a little tighter. “Start with what’s real. The rest? We’ll figure it out. Together.”

She let out a soft, almost bitter laugh. “It’s not that simple.”

“I never said it would be,” I replied, my gaze steady on hers. “But I’m not letting you do this alone. I’m not letting you run away from what you feel.”

Her eyes welled with unshed tears, and she shook her head. “I’m not running, Jax. I’m just... I need time. To think. To figure this out. To fix things with Kyle. And you—” She hesitated, her voice dropping. “You need to deal with Madison. We can’t go into this carrying all of that.”

The thought of her needing time, needing space, sent a sharp pang through my chest. But I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Okay. Take the time you need. I’ll wait.”

“Promise?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I lifted her hand to my lips, brushing a soft kiss against her knuckles. “I promise.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and for the first time tonight, she smiled—small and fragile, but real.

We started walking again, her hand still in mine. The silence between us wasn’t heavy anymore. It was peaceful, a quiet understanding.

The stars above seemed a little brighter, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like we were heading toward something that mattered. Something worth waiting for.

The morning light streamed through the kitchen window as I whisked eggs in a bowl, listening to the faint hum of birds outside. The house was still, quieter than usual. Dad had left early for a work trip, and Sam’s mom had tagged along for the weekend, leaving just the two of us.

For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no one to watch us, no one to judge or question. It was just her and me, and for once, I didn’t have to hold back.

The sound of light footsteps behind me made me glance over my shoulder. Sam stood in the doorway, her hair tousled from sleep and her oversized sweater falling off one shoulder. She looked soft, warm, and so achingly beautiful that it stole my breath for a moment.

“You’re cooking?” she asked, rubbing her eyes and stepping into the kitchen.

“Trying to,” I said with a smirk, nodding toward the sizzling pan. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s just eggs and toast.”

Her lips curved into a small smile as she walked over, leaning on the counter beside me. “Smells good so far.”

I set the whisk down and turned to her, unable to stop myself from tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a second before meeting mine again.

“Morning,” I said softly.

“Morning,” she replied, her voice just as quiet.

It was a simple exchange, but the way she looked at me made it feel like so much more.

“Go sit down,” I said, gesturing toward the kitchen table. “Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

She hesitated, like she wanted to say something, but instead, she nodded and walked over to take a seat. I plated the food and brought it to the table, setting it in front of her before sitting down across from her.

We ate in comfortable silence, the kind that felt like home. Every now and then, our eyes would meet, and she’d smile, her cheeks tinged pink.

“This is nice,” she said after a while, her voice almost wistful.

“Yeah,” I agreed, watching her. “It is.”

When the dishes were cleared and the last bite of toast was gone, I stood and offered her my hand. “Come on.”

“Where?” she asked, but she took my hand anyway.

I led her to the living room and pulled her down onto the couch beside me. She curled up against me, her head resting on my shoulder as I wrapped an arm around her.

“This,” I said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “This is what it should feel like.”

She tilted her head up to look at me, her eyes soft and filled with something I couldn’t quite name. “No hiding, no pretending?”

“None of that,” I said firmly. “Just us.”

She smiled, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. “It feels... right. Like it’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“It is,” I said, tipping her chin up so our eyes met. “And I don’t care what it takes, Sam. I’ll wait as long as you need, but this—” I gestured between us. “This is what we’re fighting for.”

Her eyes shone with unshed tears, and before I could say another word, she leaned up and kissed me. It was soft at first, tentative, but when I deepened it, she didn’t pull away.

When we finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against mine, her breath warm against my skin. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For reminding me that this is worth it,” she said.

I held her close, the morning sun warming the room as we stayed like that, lost in our little bubble.

Eventually, the clock reminded us that we had to face the world again. But as we left for school, her hand in mine and a smile on her lips, I couldn’t help but feel like we’d finally found a moment of peace in the chaos. A glimpse of what could be, if we were brave enough to reach for it.

The morning had been blissfully perfect. Too perfect. Sam and I had stolen a few moments that felt like they belonged to another world—a world where we didn’t have to hide, where being together wasn’t complicated.

But as we stepped out the front door, bags slung over our shoulders and smiles still lingering on our faces, the air shifted.

Kyle was standing on the porch, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his jaw tight.

My stomach sank, and Sam froze beside me.

“I know what’s going on between you two,” he said, his voice low but steady, the edge unmistakable.

A temporary perfection our morning was.

Sam’s breath hitched, but she didn’t say a word.

Kyle’s gaze darted between us, landing on me with a look that burned with betrayal and something dangerously close to anger.

“I saw you both,” he continued, each word deliberate. “After I followed you to the library yesterday.”