Chapter Sixteen: Games We Played

We sat in silence for a long minute, like either one of us was afraid to break it. The porch hummed with cicadas, the whiskey bottle between us low enough to show the kind of night it had been.

Finally, I let out a laugh that came out rough. "God, we're acting like we're at a funeral."

Jax smirked sideways. "You telling me you want music and dancing instead?"

"Something," I said, tipping my head toward him. "Truth or dare?"

His brow arched. "You serious?"

"Dead serious."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "What are we, sixteen again?"

"Maybe. But if you're too scared to play..."

"Scared?" That grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, cocky but warm. He leaned back, poured himself another inch of whiskey, and shrugged. "Alright, Trouble. You start."

I grinned. "Truth or dare, Teller?"

"Truth."

Figures. "What's the dumbest shit you and Opie ever pulled?"

That got a laugh out of him, real and rough. "Christ... probably the time we hot-wired Hale's old man's car. Didn't make it three blocks before it died. Opie swore he could fix it. He couldn't. We pushed the damn thing halfway back before Hale found us."

I laughed until my ribs hurt, wiping at my eyes. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Alright, your turn," he said, still grinning. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

He studied me, then smirked. "Drink straight from the bottle."

I rolled my eyes, tipped it back for a long swallow, and thunked it down. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic."

The game rolled on like that—light, teasing, back-and-forth. But the longer we played, the more the questions shifted. The truths got heavier, the dares turned into excuses to lean closer.

At one point, I leaned against the post, glass in hand. "Alright, Teller. Truth."

He nodded. "Shoot."

I held his gaze. "Why didn't you want me to stay?"

The smirk faded, his eyes sharpening like I'd cut closer than either of us meant to. He was quiet for a moment, then leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

"It's not that I didn't want you to stay," he said finally, voice low. "It's that I didn't want Charming to eat you alive the way it's been chewing on me since I was old enough to ride."

The cicadas filled the silence that followed, but he kept going, his words steady. "The shit we used to get into? The late nights, the fights, the sneaking around—it was fun, sure. But it was leading you down the same road I was on. Destruction wearing a leather jacket. I didn't want that for you."

His jaw worked, like he was chewing on something sharp. "I thought if you stayed, you'd end up like Wendy. Couldn't handle the weight of it. Couldn't handle the waiting. Not knowing if every time we rolled out, it'd be the last time you saw us. That kind of life? It crushes people. And I didn't want it to crush you."

I swallowed hard, the words sinking deep.

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Funny thing is, all my worrying about saving you from this life just left the door wide open for someone else to take my spot. Someone worse."

The porch went quiet again, his words hanging heavy. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't. I just looked at him, and he looked back, and for a second it felt like the years between us weren't there at all.

Finally, he leaned back, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Alright, Trouble. Truth or dare?"

"Truth," I said, steadying my glass in my lap.

His eyes sharpened, the smirk fading into something closer to serious. "What's the one thing you'd change, if you could?"

I swallowed, staring down at the porch boards. "I'd have left Texas sooner," I admitted. "I thought running was strength. Turns out it was just buying time. If I'd come home earlier, maybe I wouldn't have wasted so much of myself."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then I lifted my chin, forcing a smile. "Your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Dare," he said, too quick, like he didn't trust himself with another truth.

I let a grin spread across my face. "Alright, Teller. I dare you to dance with me."

He groaned, tipping his head back. "Christ. You're never gonna let that prom night shit go, are you?"

"You ditched me," I shot back. "You owe me."

"I had a damn good reason," he said, smirking despite himself.

"Not good enough. A dare's a dare."

He shook his head, chuckling low. "Not out here. Whole neighborhood doesn't need a show."

I rolled my eyes. "Everyone's in bed anyway."

He gave me a look, the kind that said *don't push me but I'll play along if you do.*

"Fine," I said, standing and dusting off my hands. "Then we'll take it inside."

I didn't wait for his reply. I opened the screen door, the creak cutting through the quiet night, and tossed a smile over my shoulder. "Come on, Vice President. Time to make good on that dare."

Behind me, I heard him mutter something low, the scrape of his chair following after.

And just like that, the porch was behind us.