Chapter 70: Reid gets jealous

"Alright, McCoy, let’s see the damage," Jax said without preamble, setting his heavy case on the coffee table and immediately pulling back the mountain of pillows.

​He didn’t waste any time. After examining the heavy swelling around the joint, Jax coated his palms in a thick, medicinal oil and began a deep-tissue friction massage directly on the severely sprained ankle.

The goal was to aggressively break up the fluid retention and prevent the joint from locking up, but the process was pure agony.

​I stood a few feet away, leaning against the edge of the marble kitchen counter with my arms crossed, watching the untouchable prodigy completely lose his high-and-mighty composure.

​Reid’s entire body went rigid the second Jax dug his thumbs into the swollen tissue. A sharp, ragged gasp left the rookie’s lips, his knuckles turning entirely white as he buried his face face-down into a leather pillow to swallow his groans.

His massive shoulders trembled under the sheer force of the pain, beads of sweat breaking out across the back of his neck.

​It looked like hell, and a small, twisted part of me felt a sweet sense of satisfying justice. This was the same guy who had ruthlessly pushed his way into my life, completely unbothered by my boundaries.

Seeing him reduced to a sweating, shaking mess on a couch felt like a proper reality check. Yet, beneath that satisfaction, the hyper-reliant edge of my Omega brain was quietly tracking the sharp, pained spikes in his frozen pine scent, making a strange, involuntary tension tighten in my own chest.

​"Good. The joint still has decent mobility, but you’re locked to this couch for the week," Jax grunted, wiping his hands on a towel as he finished the torture session. He turned his sharp eyes toward me, gesturing with his chin. "While I’m here, Captain, let me take a look at those ribs from the collision last week. Marcus said you were still bracing during practice drills today."

​I stiffened, my fingers digging into my forearms. "I’m fine, Jax. It’s just a standard bruise at this point."

​"I’ll be the judge of that. Shirt up, Evans," Jax ordered, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument.

​I let out an irritated breath, reluctantly stepping away from the counter. I pulled the hem of my shirt up to my collarbone, exposing my torso to the cool air of the penthouse.

The large, mottled purple bruise over my left ribs was clearly visible, though it had finally entered the yellowish, healing stage.

​Jax stepped in close, completely objective as he placed his hands directly onto my bare skin. He pressed his thumb firmly against the edge of the ribs, tracking the bone alignment to ensure nothing was cracked.

​The sudden, sharp pressure sent a dull, burning ache straight through my side, causing me to let out a sharp, involuntary catch in my breath.

​A low, vicious sound instantly cut through the room.

​From the couch, Reid’s head snapped up. His face was still flushed and sweating from the ankle massage, but the moment his eyes landed on Jax’s hands pressed firmly against my chest and waist, bare, his expression turned incredibly dark.

​A heavy, threatening growl rumbled deep from his throat—a primal, instinctual Alpha broadcast that practically vibrated through the floorboards.

The scent of frozen pine spiked violently, turning thick, possessive, and entirely hostile as he stared dead at the trainer’s hands on my body.

He didn’t care that it was a standard medical check; his distracted, territorial brain couldn’t handle another man touching me.

But the trainer took it that he was getting upset about his own hurting ankle.

Jax kept inspecting my ribs, his fingers moving methodically over the healing bone as I looked over at the sofa.

​Seriously, he was so childish. I could tell it wasn’t the pain from the ankle making him act up, but the simple fact that Jax was touching me. Why couldn’t I? It was written all over his pheromones, screaming in a language that was loud, clear, and completely suffocating.

​But someone like Jax, who was a real Beta, wouldn’t know. He was completely blind to the biological warfare currently filling the room.

​"Don’t sweat it out, it’ll only make your ankle hurt more," Jax said over his shoulder, entirely misinterpreting the low, vibrating growl as just another reaction to the grueling massage. He didn’t even look up from my side, applying a bit more pressure to the center of the yellowish bruise. "Deep breaths, McCoy. Bracing your core like that is just going to restrict your blood flow."

​Reid didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His fingers dug so deeply into the leather pillow that I heard the material groan under his grip, his jaw locking so tight the skin around his mouth went white.

His smoky grey eyes never left Jax’s hands, tracking every single point of contact on my bare waist with a raw, dangerous fixativity.

​The concentrated wave of frozen pine was turning heavy and toxic, wrapping around my ankles and creeping up my spine.

My inner Omega did a frantic, hyper-vigilant flip, my core tightening in response to the sheer, demanding weight of his possessiveness. A sudden warmth flared right beneath my synthetic patch, and I had to actively force my breathing to stay steady so Jax wouldn’t notice my heart rate spiking.

​"Alright, everything feels aligned," Jax finally announced, stepping back and letting his hands drop away from my skin. "No shifting in the cartilage. Just keep applying the topical gel I gave you, Captain, and you’ll be fine by next week."

​The second Jax’s hands left my torso, the suffocating pressure in the room eased just a fraction, the sharp, hostile edge in Reid’s scent dulling into a low, restless simmer.

​I quickly pulled my shirt back down, hiding the bruise and tucking the fabric back into my waistband. I kept my face strictly neutral, a flat, untouchable captain’s mask firmly in place as I looked down at the rookie on the couch.

​"Thanks, Jax," I said smoothly, my voice completely level. "I’ll make sure he stays off his feet for now."

"Make sure he does," Jax grunted, packing the oils and the stim machine back into his heavy case. He snapped the latches shut and stood up, casting one last warning look at Reid. "I don’t want to see you trying to put weight on that foot until Tuesday, McCoy. If I catch you creeping around the facility early, I’m telling Devin to extend your bench time."

Reid just let out a low, rough breath through his nose, dropping his chin back onto the pillow in a thoroughly grumpy, defeated slump.

He looked thoroughly humiliated, stripped of his usual high-and-mighty armor, and the fact that he had just let his primal instincts slip in front of a team trainer clearly had him stewing in his own frustration.

I walked Jax to the door, checking the hallway to ensure the coast was clear before letting him out.

As the heavy door clicked shut, the silence of the penthouse rushed back in, thick, private, and entirely loaded with the lingering taste of frozen pine.

I turned around, leaning my back against the wood, and crossed my arms as I stared across the minimalist room at the broken prodigy.

"You’re unbelievable," I murmured, a faint, cynical edge returning to my voice. "You’re acting like a possessive Alpha going through a rut."

"Maybe I am," he huffed.