My Mom Took In A Stray - Hard Fouls, Soft Spots.

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**Chapter Four — Hard Fouls, Soft Spots**

The kitchen felt weird that morning.

Quiet, but not a good quiet.

I stood at the counter, nursing a mug of coffee and watching Jax pretend not to notice me. He moved stiff, grabbing a protein bar, thumbing his phone, making a show of checking the time, but not once did he meet my eyes. Like something was caught between us, thick and unspoken.

Like maybe he *had* been outside my room last night, standing there in the dark. Maybe he’d heard something he wasn’t supposed to. Maybe he didn't know what to do with it now. Neither did I.

So I just cleared my throat and said, "last Scrimmage today. You ready?" Jax nodded, quick. "Yeah. Uh. Thanks for letting me ride with you. I’ve enjoyed them"

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he winced like it pissed him off. I shrugged like it didn’t matter. "You’d get lost without me."

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile, but he shoved it down fast. I didn’t push.

The drive over was easy. “you ever gonna put your foot down a little, you drive like an old man” he said. I laughed. My mind was wondering, I hadn’t noticed. “just driving like you did in the key last run” I joked back, always quick to retort. 

It made the air light. Comfortable, in a way that felt dangerous if I thought about it too hard. Jax leaned back in the passenger seat, relaxed a little.

He peppered me with questions about the scrimmages, about the older guys who showed up from the local D2 school, if there was anyone new, about who played where and who actually had game.

He lit up when he talked basketball, fast and sharp, that New York accent cutting harder when he got excited. I caught myself smiling more than once.

"You’re good, you know," I said, flicking my turn signal. "Not just corner threes. You’re strong in the paint. You gotta trust that more."

Jax ducked his head, tugging on a loose thread in his sleeve. "Coach always said I played too big for my size."

"Good," I said. "Make 'em feel you."

For a second, he looked proud. Then he caught me looking and turned back to the window, jaw tight. 

The scrimmage got rough. Real fast.

Jax drove hard into the lane, cutting sharper than some of the older guys expected.
Gavin, one of our forwards, heavy and mean, didn’t like getting shown up by the new kid.

He hip-checked Jax hard midair.

I saw it happen before he even landed. The way Jax's body twisted, the way his head snapped back when he hit the floor.

I was moving before he even bounced. The camera hit the ground with a dull thud behind me.

"Hey, hey…" I dropped into a crouch beside him, hand firm on his shoulder. "You good?"

Jax blinked up at me, dazed. Blood was trickling from a scrape near his temple. "I got you," I said low, steady, wrapping an arm under his and hauling him up. He leaned into me, just for a second. Just enough. Something stirred in my gut, sharp and possessive.

Gavin muttered something like "he's fine," turning away. I didn’t even think. I let go of Jax, stalked straight toward him. Gavin turned just in time to see me in his face. Eyes sharp, voice low enough to be a threat.

"You put him on the ground again," I said, "I'll put you through the fucking wall." Dead quiet. No one moved. Gavin nodded once, eyes dropping, all bark drained out of him.I didn’t play anymore, but respect didn’t rot that fast around here.

Friday night came fast. Mom and Dad were heading to Manhattan, some anniversary weekend thing, which meant Sierra immediately started texting her friends. I invited a few. By the time eight rolled around, the house was buzzing. Basement full, porch packed, music loud enough to hum through the floors. I stuck to the kitchen.

Beer cold in my hand, back to the counter, keeping an eye on the door. I spotted Jax the second he came down the stairs. Fresh tee, wide jeans. Effortless. Hair still damp from the shower. He hesitated on the last step like he was gearing himself up.

She found him first.

She squealed and threw her arms around his neck, dragging him into a hug.

He froze. Stiff as hell. She kissed his cheek — casual, easy — like it was normal.
But Jax went stiff under it. Shoulders locking up like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be touched. He laughed. Tight, wrong, like it caught in his throat before it made it out.

Didn’t meet her eyes.
Didn’t meet mine either.

Just stood there, but like he wasn’t there at all. 

I cracked a beer open, leaned back against the counter, and tried not to watch him.
Tried not to notice how he looked a little more trapped than happy. I looked away.
Started scanning the room for Tess. I could bury myself in her. Bury myself *inside* her.
And shake whatever this was gnawing at the back of my mind.

She said something low to Jax, laughing like she wasn’t sure what game she was playing yet. If he was going to laugh and relax too. It was a weird dynamic. They seemed close and far away at the same time.
He nodded along, familiar careful, guarded.

Not once did he fully relax.

Not once did he look back at me. It pissed me off.