A year removed from the club and Tara is still composed of pure, Old Lady steel. Everything about her posture is closed and dignified, only betrayed by the shaking of her bad hand. Immediately and without doubt, Jax knows that that autopsy isn't from the hospital but from Charming. It could mean the death of any number of them. Clay, Gemma, Tara, Jax himself...Every option, every possible nuance of death that might come from that folder performs as the city has surely designed.

"If we go out to dinner with that fucking thing on the back of my mind, I'm not gonna enjoy dinner," he says. Neither will Tara. Hell, even talking about it will probably ruined the night for him and that's a consequence that Jax just has to live with. Any option he takes ends in a ruined night.

Finally, he sighs and reaches out, his hands on Tara's shoulders. "Your call, babe." In this, he has to trust her. "I'm gonna heat up those chicken nuggets for the boys. You think it over."

Because her job is to be strong when he can't and Jax's job now is to be strong because he has no other option.