Page 76 of Don't Think

But Jax dreamed so big he shot for the stars. He’s so close to actually living it, with playing music in front of thousands and releasing his first real album in just a few short months.

I can’t even imagine the stress that comes with that.

Then, I remember something Gareth mentioned when we all first met. About how they were supposed to be in the studio this past January, but personal issues put a pause on everything.

The way he looked at Jax…

I’ll never know unless I ask, but something holds me back. It’s not like we’re together, or that he owes me any explanation about his personal life.

But still, the thought lingers like smoke, billowing through every crevice while it swallows every thought into that one question.

You’ll never know if you don’t ask.

“Jax?” My voice breaks through the stillness.

“Mm-hmm?”

“What… what was thepersonal issueGareth mentioned the day we were all at the house? When he said that you guys were supposed to record earlier in the year.”

I feel him stiffen behind me and immediately regret asking. I know I had no right to ask something like that for what we’re doing. I shouldn’t even be caring about that since this istemporary, but here I am, being a huge hypocrite for calling Nora out on being overbearing with her personal questions.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” I reassure him. “I’ve just been curious is all.”

He rubs his hand gently along my leg. “No, it’s okay.” His tone is calm, understanding, but my heart still gradually sinks until it lands somewhere in my stomach.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, but then, I finally feel him start to relax.

“We were supposed to be in the studio in January, but… my mum”—he pauses, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly—“she passed,” he admits quietly.

My heart shatters into a million pieces. I can’t even begin to imagine the loss he went through. The way his voice wavers, it sounds like he’sstillcarrying it with him every day.

I don’t even want to think about what it’ll feel like when my own mother passes—but I know I’ll never be ready for it. I don’t think anyone really ever is.

Turning around in the bed to face him, I run my fingers lightly down his chest, like I’m somehow trying to soothe his heart from the outside.

“Tell me about her?” It comes out more like a question rather than a request.

“She was… incredible.” He laughs softly, but there’s still a sadness behind it. “If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have even picked up music. She bought me my first guitar, cleaned out our garage as best she could so we’d have a place to jam. She was just incredible. One of those mums you’d brag about every chance you could.”

“Sounds like she was lovely,” I say quietly.

He nods slowly. “She was hit by a drunk driver exactly five months after I finalized my divorce, and two weeks before we were supposed to hit the studio,” he says shakily.

I sit up in bed, and see his eyes quickly redden from holding everything back. Focusing all my attention on him, I sit in silence, letting him know this ishistime—his safe space to let everything out.

I place my hand over his, running my thumb gently along his knuckles.

Then, his eyes finally meet mine, shimmering with unshed tears and it’s like my world is flipped upside down. Watching him become so vulnerable? It throws a shard of glass straight into my stomach.

“She owned a florist’s shop called Maggie’s Garden,” he continues, his voice steady but distant. “She spent every waking moment either in the yard with her rose bushes or in the shop tending to bouquet orders.”

He shakes his head, swiping his free thumb below his eye quickly. As if he doesn’t want to fall apart right now, but I know he needs to.

“That must have been so hard on you,” I murmur.

He nods. “What really threw a spanner in the works was when a For Sale sign was posted in the window nearly two weeks later. The day we were supposed to leave.” He looks up, and he shakes his head slowly. “I just… couldn’t leave after something like that, you know?”

My eyes widen, and a lump forms in my throat. I swallow through it, pushing the empathy I feel for him aside, and I try to focus on him. On giving him whatheneeds right now.