“I don’t want to leave her.” Not like he had. Morgan needed to know that I wasn’t the guy who walked away.

“That wasn’t a suggestion. Go home, Jax. Give her a little space to wrap her head around what you told her. If you can’t tell, the last flyboy she fell for shattered her into a million little pieces, and she’s still trying to put herself back together.” She squeezed my arm again. “Go. You can’t help her right now, and once she calms down and realizes she’s spent the better part of ten minutes screaming at a ghost and taking it out on his truck, she’s going to be even more embarrassed that you witnessed it.”

Logically, I knew she was right, but everything in my body rebelled at the thought of walking up my stairs. “I want her, Sam. We have something, and I’m not going to let her go without a fight.”

“Fight tomorrow, Jax. She’s engaged in a whole other battle right now.” She patted my arm and walked toward Morgan, who was still slamming that door like it had personally broken her heart.

I ripped my eyes from Morgan and headed for my house. Halfway up my stairs, the slamming stopped, and I turned to see Morgan fall into Sam’s arms. Fuck, I could hear her sobbing from here. The sound tore right through my ribs and raked giant gashes down my heart.

Sam looked at me over Morgan’s shoulder and shook her head.

I got the message. Locking every muscle in my body to avoid rushing to Morgan’s side, I stood silently and watched Sam lead her up the stairs and into her house. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I would go over and plead my case.

My footsteps felt heavy as I trudged up my steps, but I made it. I gave Morgan’s door a long, heavy look and then unlocked my own door, so flustered that it took me a couple tries to get the damned thing open.

I threw my keys on the kitchen counter and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and twisted the top off. All the alcohol in the world wouldn’t help this situation.

“It’s about time you got here. I’ve been waiting for ages.”

I crushed the bottle in my fist at the sound of her voice, and water gushed over my hand as I whipped around to see her standing at the end of the counter.

Claire. She smirked and tilted her head, her hair falling in soft auburn waves to rest below her shoulders left bare by the design of her shirt. She was beautiful, but for the first time in the seven years I’d known her, that beauty didn’t stir me. It didn’t so much as entice or attract me, either.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I growled.