Fly By Night | Sons of Anarchy Fanfiction | Jax Teller x OC

Chapter Seven

It felt like it'd been forever since he'd driven down this street. That was pretty damn sad, considering he technically lived here. And it wasn't like he'd really been in the house all that much, even when they'd first bought it and moved in. Sometimes, it didn't feel like he'd ever lived there at all - at least not for any real length of time.

Jax had bought the house right after they got married because that just seemed like the thing a person was supposed to do after getting married. He hadn't particularly liked the house - or the price - but Wendy had fallen in love with it for some reason, so he'd bought it. He also hadn't had much of a say in the way she'd decorated the place - not that he cared - but he couldn't exactly say there was much of him anywhere, other than some clothes, a few cases of beer, a toothbrush, and a bottle of shampoo. Everything else was pretty much at the clubhouse. He'd never really boxed up any of his things there and brought it to the house. Maybe even then, he knew it was just a waste of his time.

And as he pulled into the driveway, Jax sat there for a few moments with a heavy heart, his eyes drifting over the overly-long grass, the cracks in the sidewalk, the shabby shutters, and the sad-looking welcome mat at the front door.

This wasn't his home.

This was just a house, and it wasn't even that nice of a house.

He wished there was at least one happy memory here. Something he could wrap his hands around and feel it pulsing with life, with hope. His hands, and his memory, came up empty.

Maybe there had been some good times in this house. Maybe there'd been one good night where he'd come home from the clubhouse, safe and sound, and Wendy had been there with dinner at the ready, clean and sober, and they'd had a good, fulfilling night as the couple Wendy had always wanted them to be.

Maybe his feelings were clouding his memories right now, but his instincts had never really failed him before. And he knew better than to ignore what they were telling him to do.

So, with a heavy sigh, Jax strode up to the entryway of the house. He almost felt like knocking, but then reminded himself that he technically owned this place. He didn't need to knock.

He used his key instead, and when the aroma of Italian spices wafted through the air, Jax scrubbed his face with both hands wearily. Dinner wasn't necessary tonight. In fact, he was pretty damn sure neither of them would have much of an appetite pretty soon. He blew out another tired breath when he saw a basket of folded laundry sitting on the couch. Tell-tale vacuum cleaner lines streaked the carpet. Even the throw pillows on the couch looked like they'd been fluffed recently.

She'd been cleaning up. Trying to make the house presentable for him. One last ditch shot in the chest to try to revive the strangled heart of their relationship.

Not like it'd ever been much of a relationship to begin with.

Wendy appeared in the entryway from the kitchen, a tomato sauce covered wooden spoon in hand, and her lips spread apart in a relief. She disappeared inside the kitchen, then materialized again with both hands free as she shot forward to wrap her arms around his neck. Jax let her draw him in, let himself wrap his arms around her waist. Maybe it was better to give her what she needed from him right now. It might make the blow that was to come a little easier to swallow.

Probably not, but a guy could hope.

"I'm so glad you're home," Wendy murmured in his ear.

Jax couldn't bring himself to respond. Instead, he let her pull him into the kitchen, where she had a few steaming pots going on the stovetop. Wendy gestured for him to have a seat at the table, which was already set for two, and when she turned to open the refrigerator, he opted to lean on the counter instead.