Author's Preface
Friday morning arrived with a heavy, humid silence.
It had been four days since Stacy had marked her territory in the parking lot. Four days since Jax had recommitted to being the "Good Husband." He had spent the week walking a straight line—work, home, sleep, repeat. He hadn't texted Misty. He hadn't visited Deb’s truck.
He felt disciplined. He felt in control.
He was standing at the workbench in the Maintenance Cage at 6:50 AM, calibrating a torque wrench, waiting for the inevitable. He knew Misty's routine. She would walk by any minute, hoodie up, eyes down, looking miserable. She would wait for him to offer a crumb of attention.
He steeled himself to ignore her. It was for her own good.
Then, the side door opened.
Misty walked in.
She wasn't wearing a hoodie. She was wearing her tightest jeans and a brand new high-vis vest that was cinched at the waist to show off her figure. Her hair was done—big, bouncy curls that defied the humidity. Her makeup was flawless, her lips painted a bright, aggressive pink .
And she wasn't carrying brownies for Jax.
She walked right past the Maintenance Cage. She didn't slow down. She didn't look at the empty spot on the bench where she used to sit.
Jax paused, the wrench hovering over the gauge. He watched her out of the corner of his eye.
She walked straight to the vending machines where Ryder was buying a coffee.
"Good morning, Ryder," she chirped, her voice loud enough to carry over the hum of the conveyors.
Ryder froze, his hand halfway to the cup. He looked at Jax, panic in his eyes. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, terrified that his best friend knew what he’d done in the roof stairwell yesterday.
Then he looked at Misty.
"Uh... hey, Misty."
"I brought you something," she said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a foil-wrapped package. "Breakfast burrito. Homemade salsa. I know you said the cafeteria food gives you heartburn."
Ryder took it, looking like he was holding a live grenade. "Thanks. You didn't have to..."
"I wanted to," she said. She reached out and fixed his collar, her fingers lingering on his neck. It was the exact same move she used to pull on Jax—intimate, proprietary, and performed for an audience .
"You look good today, Ryder," she purred. "Black suits you."
Jax felt a strange, cold pinch in his chest. It wasn't heartbreak—he didn't love her—but it was annoyance. That was his move. That was his worship.
Misty turned and walked toward Line 4. As she passed the cage, Jax stepped forward, compelled by an ego he couldn't control.
"Misty," he said.
She stopped. She turned slowly. Her face was a mask of polite indifference.
"Yes, Jax? Do you need a machine checked?"
"I... no," Jax stammered, thrown off by her tone. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. After... everything."
"I'm great," she said, her eyes dead flat. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You seemed upset earlier in the week."
"I was confused," she corrected. "But I figured it out. I realized I was barking up the wrong tree."
She looked past him, at Ryder, who was unwrapping the burrito like it was gold bullion.
"Some men appreciate effort," she said, her gaze snapping back to Jax. "And some men just like to hear themselves talk. I'm done with talkers."
She turned on her heel and walked away, her hips swaying with a rhythm that was purely for Ryder’s benefit.
Jax stood there, stunned. He had wanted her to leave him alone. He had prayed for it. But now that she was doing it—and giving his "king treatment" to his sidekick—it felt like a theft.
"She made you a burrito?" Jax asked, walking over to Ryder.
Ryder took a bite. "Chorizo," he mumbled, mouth full, avoiding Jax's eyes. "It's really good, boss."
"Don't call me boss," Jax snapped. "And don't get used to it. She's just doing this to piss me off."
"Maybe," Ryder shrugged, taking another huge bite. "But I'm still eating the burrito."
The shift was a nightmare of passive-aggression.
Every time Jax walked by Line 4, Misty was laughing. She laughed with the forklift driver. She laughed with the material handler. She laughed loudly, tossing her hair, making sure everyone saw that she was having the time of her life.
But she never looked at Jax. She treated him like part of the machinery—necessary, but invisible.
By 2:00 PM, the heat was climbing again, and Jax’s patience was fraying.
He was in the Quality Control office, trying to get Deb to sign off on a work order for Line 1. Since the "Surprise Audit" on Tuesday, Deb had been keeping him on a short leash professionally.
"Sign the paper, Deb," Jax said, tapping the desk.
Deb didn't sign. She was looking out the window at the floor.
"Look at them," she murmured.
Jax looked. Down on the floor, near the scrap bins, Misty was standing with Ryder. Ryder was fixing a jam on the conveyor belt. Misty was handing him tools.
She leaned in close to whisper something in Ryder’s ear. Ryder laughed, his face turning red. He put a hand on her waist to move her out of the way of a passing cart, and his hand lingered there a second too long.
"It's pathetic," Jax muttered.
"It's interesting," Deb corrected. She swiveled her chair to look at Jax. "She traded down. From the Lion to the Cub."
"She's trying to make me jealous."
"Is it working?" Deb asked, arching an eyebrow.
"No," Jax lied. "I don't care who she sleeps with. I just want her to do her job."
"She is doing her job," Deb said, signing the paper with a flourish. "But your boy isn't doing his. Ryder has been staring at her ass for ten minutes instead of fixing the belt tension. That's a quality issue, Jax. If the belt slips, the parts are out of spec."
She handed the clipboard back to Jax.
"Control your men, Jax. Ryder looks like a puppy who just found a steak on the floor. If he messes up a repair because he's too busy drooling, I'm writing you up for lack of supervision." .
Jax grabbed the clipboard. "I'll handle it."
"You better," Deb said, her eyes cold. "Because I don't care about your little soap opera, but I do care about my scrap rate."
Jax walked out of the office. He marched down the stairs and onto the floor. He headed straight for the conveyor where Ryder and Misty were standing.
"Ryder!" Jax barked. "Is that jam cleared?"
Ryder jumped, pulling his hand away from Misty's waist. "Almost. Just tightening the tensioner."
"Stop flirting and fix the belt," Jax snapped. He turned to Misty.
"And you," Jax said. "You're distracting him. If Rhonda catches you loitering over here instead of running your press, she's going to write you up."
Misty looked at him. She smiled. It was the same smile she used to give him, but now it felt like a weapon.
"I'm just ensuring the equipment is serviced properly," she said innocently. "Rhonda appreciates proactive operators, Jax. You should know that."
She winked at Ryder—boldly, right in front of Jax—and sauntered back to her press.
"Aye aye, Captain," she called over her shoulder.
Ryder watched her go, looking dazed.
"Snap out of it," Jax ordered, shoving a wrench into Ryder's hand. "She's using you, you idiot. Can't you see that? She's just doing this to get back at me."
"Maybe," Ryder said quietly, looking at the wrench. "But she's the only one treating me like I matter right now. You're too busy playing house, and Deb is too busy playing god. Misty? She's just... fun."
Jax opened his mouth to argue, but he stopped. He realized, with a sinking feeling, that he had lost the locker room. Ryder wasn't on his team anymore. Ryder was a free agent.
And Misty was the highest bidder.
***
Barb and Tammy were splitting a bag of chips, watching the end-of-shift exodus.
"Did you see the burrito?" Tammy asked.
"I saw the burrito," Barb nodded. "And I saw the hand on the waist. And I saw the wink."
"She's bold," Tammy said. "Flirting with Ryder right in front of Jax? That's cold."
"It's brilliant," Barb corrected. "She knows she can't hurt Jax by leaving. He'd just be relieved. The only way to hurt a man like Jax is to show him that he's replaceable."
"Is he jealous?"
"He's furious," Barb said, taking a drag of her vape. "Look at him."
Jax was walking to his truck. He wasn't walking with his usual swagger. He was stomping. He got in, slammed the door, and peeled out of the lot.
"He hates that Ryder has what he threw away," Barb said. "It's dog in the manger. He doesn't want the bone, but he'll bite anyone else who tries to take it."
"So what happens now?"
"Now?" Barb looked at Ryder, who was walking to his car with a goofy grin on his face. "Now the team falls apart. Jax can't trust Ryder. Ryder doesn't respect Jax. And Misty? She's just striking matches and throwing them into the gas tank."
Barb shook her head.
"Next week is gonna be ugly, Tam. The heatwave broke, but the temperature is rising."