Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

Zeppelin

T oday was shitty. I hadn’t been able to sleep after making Jaxon leave, and once I began to calm down, I realized just how much I’d overreacted. All I’d been able to focus on at the time was him telling Logan my business, but once I laid there in bed beside Eros, who was unaware of what I’d just done, and mulled over his words, I realized he was just trying to help me.

I’d been a fucking douchebag, and I had a lot of groveling ahead of me to do with both Eros and Jaxon. Because Eros was pissed at me—livid, in fact. He’d yelled at me this morning when he woke up and found Jaxon gone, found out what I’d done, and he was so furious that he hadn’t ordered me my usual breakfast and coffee. When I’d texted him asking what he wanted for lunch so I could send him something since my appointment was running over and I wouldn’t be able to meet up with him, he’d told me he’d rather starve than see me right then.

It’d cut—deep. But I knew I deserved it. I’d fucked up big time.

I lifted my phone to my ear, dialing Jaxon’s number—which I’d been doing all fucking day—but just like the last thirty times I’d called him, his phone was off, going straight to the automated message that told me he didn’t have a voicemail box set up.

I growled my frustration and shoved my phone into my pocket before pushing out the front door of the shop, turning to lock it so I could head home, where my husband could yell at me some more. Once the lock slid into place, I turned away?—

And got punched right in the fucking face.

I stumbled, my back slamming against the brick wall of the shop. Blood spilled down my chin, my teeth throbbing . I glared at Logan, who was standing in front of me, anger brewing in his eyes, his muscles tensed. He was wearing a pair of black cargo pants with chains all over them, with a black t-shirt beneath a black leather jacket. His hair was messy, and when his fingers curled into another fist, I saw the rings on his fingers.

“Punching someone with rings is a fucking low blow,” I snarled, pushing off the wall, my own temper flaring. If Logan wanted a fight, I was more than happy to give him one. Because I needed somewhere for all this rage to go. All this self-hatred and self-loathing.

“Breaking up with a man who only wanted to help you because you’re an insecure pussy is even lower,” Logan sneered at me, his lips twisted in disgust. My stomach curdled, even as my anger burned hotter. “I warned you not to fucking hurt him, Zeppelin.”

I stepped closer to him. “You got feelings for your fucking father-in-law?” I snarled. “You’re always coming to his fucking?—”

Logan punched me in the face again. I spit out blood, then barked out a cold laugh before tackling him to the ground, shoving my fist into his gut, my other hand quickly catching him in the face. He wrapped a hand around my throat, constricting my airflow, before flipping us. I vaguely heard someone shouting at us, but Logan and I were too blind to the rage pulsing through us.

We met each other blow for blow, turning each other into bloody messes. My nose was broken. His eye was quickly swelling. Both of our lips were bleeding, and my throat was raw and aching from how tightly he’d gripped it when flipping us over.

Blue and red lights lit up the darkening area, and then cops were pulling us apart and yanking us to our feet. Logan spat blood at my face, making it land on my cheek. I snarled and tried yanking away from the officer holding me back, but another joined in before they spun me around and slammed me against the brick wall, making my chin bounce off it roughly.

“You have the right to remain silent…”

I growled low in my throat, coughing after as I rested my forehead against the rough, brick exterior of my tattoo shop.

What a fucking shitshow this day had turned out to be. And I hadn’t done a single fucking thing to fix the shit I broke. Instead, I’d only accumulated more fucking problems.

Fuck .

“Barefield, Hendrix, let’s go,” an officer said, pulling open the holding cell door. Logan and I both stood to our feet to exit the holding cell. He was still stewing, his anger boiling inside of him, but the fight had died out of me. I was tired, and I just wanted to fix things between me and Jax and work this shit out with my husband.

I was too tired to give the energy needed to continue this fight with Logan.

After we were given our things, Logan shoulder-checked me on his way past me, and I gritted my teeth. I was glad Jaxon had someone like Logan in his corner, but fuck , I wanted to put that kid in his fucking place sometimes. He could be a real dick… though this time, it wasn’t misplaced. I’d earned that beating. I knew it just as well as he did.

I followed him down the hall before we walked through a door, emerging into the station lobby. Jaxon was leaning against the wall, and Eros was sitting a few seats away from him, pain on his features as he gazed at Jaxon. Jaxon looked rough. His hair was untidy, and his eyes were pinched as he glanced at me before looking at Logan, his jaw tightening, disappointment brewing in his dark eyes.

Spencer and Ezra stood from the seats next to him, Ezra shooting my husband a dirty look before turning to look at me, his mouth screwing in severe dislike.

I ignored him.

“Jaxon—” I rasped, my throat raw and aching. I stepped toward him, but Logan turned, pushing a hand against my chest. I glared at him and physically bit my tongue to keep from rising to the challenge he presented.

“No,” Logan snapped. “You don’t get to work things out now that he’s standing in front of you. You and your weak ass husband can fuck right off, you hear me?” I growled low in my chest at his insult of my husband. I could handle anything, but bringing Eros into my shit was treading into dangerous territory. “You’ve done enough goddamn damage. Stay the fuck away from him.”

“Logan,” Jaxon snapped in that hot as fuck dad voice.

“Let’s go,” Spencer said, grabbing Jaxon’s hand, tugging him to the door.

“Jax,” I snapped, my voice sounding strangled. Clearing my throat didn’t help. Logan had done a fucking number to my throat. Jaxon looked at me over his shoulder, pain glimmering in his dark eyes, but Ezra gently pushed him toward the door.

Logan stepped up to me, the tips of our boots touching. He glared at me, and I evenly met his gaze. “Be a man and fix this shit on your own time—not mine, you hear me?” He looked over at Eros, who was now standing, looking between me and Logan warily. Logan shook his head, scoffing quietly. “Maybe you should fix shit with your husband first and figure out where to go from there.”

With that, he spun on his heel, following his men and his father-in-law out the door. Eros crossed his arms over his chest, his scrub top pulling tight across his shoulders. Normally, I’d pull him close and kiss him and whisper how good he looked in that top into his ear, but I feared touching him right then might make him punch me, too.

“You fucked up with him so bad that his kids don’t even want me near him,” Eros snarled at me. “And I didn’t even do a goddamn thing. Nothing short of getting me arrested too would get me a single word with him.” He glared at me. “We’re going home.”

I clenched my jaw, pain slicing through my chest. “Eros?—”

“Not. Here,” he snarled at me before spinning on his heel and storming out of the police station.

My fingers twitched at my sides, my chest feeling like it was going to cave in. Vomit swirled in my gut, and my vision blurred. Still, even with the panic attack tightening my throat and constricting my lungs, I somehow managed to put one boot in front of the other and follow my angry, hurting husband out the door.

How the fuck was I supposed to fix this now? I couldn’t even be trusted to fix myself .