Jax's P.O.V

The first faint light of Monday morning crept across my ceiling, painting the stark white plaster a pale, hesitant grey. I had been awake for a while, lying in the quiet, my mind not on the day’s lectures or the pending merger my father had emailed me about, but on a single, fixed point: Val.

The weekend had been a special kind of torture. Knowing she was just a drive away, holed up with her girls, safe but out of reach. I was so used to her presence being a constant. Dropping ...