He holds doors. Stops to pet every dog. Makes Lily laugh on FaceTime when she’s overwhelmed. Slips me quick hugs when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
Still, I worry. That the way people judge him will become the way he sees himself. That if he ever messes up, the hair and jacket will make it stick harder.
Last Friday night turned all of that upside down.
It was brutally cold—the kind that seeps into the house no matter how high you turn the heat.
Lily had just gone back to campus, and the house felt empty. Jax grabbed his headphones and pulled on his jacket.
“Going for a walk,” he said.
“At night? It’s freezing,” I replied.
“All the better to vibe with my bad life choices,” he deadpanned.
I sighed. “Be back by 10.”
He saluted with a gloved hand and headed out. I went upstairs to deal with laundry.
