Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
ALLEY
THEN—FOUR AND A HALF YEARS AGO
MARCH
We haul the last of the boxes into the apartment. I set mine down on the kitchen table and lean against it, trying to catch my breath. God, I’m winded.
I inhale slowly, blinking as stars flash behind my eyes, a pounding starting to build in my head.
“Babe, you okay?” Jensen asks, his brows knitting together. “You look a little flushed.”
I wince. “Agh, I’m not feeling great.”
“Really? What’s going on?” He crosses the kitchen toward me, concern etched across his face.
I press my palm to my forehead. “I don’t know. I just… I feel like I’m gonna pass out all of a sudden. And my head’s pounding. Feels like I’m getting the flu or something.”
Jensen wraps his arms around me, and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Why don’t you go lie down?”
“Because this is all my shit.”
I’m officially moving in today, even though I’ve practically lived here for the past three months.
Jensen asked me to move in a few weeks ago, and my lease is up, so I finally made the leap.
I sold off most of my furniture, and Jensen did the same.
It was his idea to get new stuff that reflected both our tastes.
Not many men in their thirties would be willing to ditch their manly decor, let a woman move into their space and take over—I know how lucky I am.
“Leave it. I got it, babe.”
“But… you won’t know where to put my things.”
He chuckles softly. He knows what an organized control freak I am.
He kisses my forehead, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“How about this? You lay on the couch and tell me where everything goes. And when we get to the bedroom boxes, you can order me around some more.” A grin spreads across his face.
“I’ll even let you boss me around in bed later while you’re being a pillow princess. ”
I try not to laugh, but it’s hopeless.
“Seriously, babe. I got this.”
“Really? You swear you don’t care? I feel bad.”
“I swear. The hard part’s done, we got all the shit here. This part’s easy.” He grabs my hands and tugs me toward the couch. “Plus, I can’t wait until you fall asleep so I can fuck everything up.”
I laugh again and my hand flies to my forehead. “Ow. Stop making me laugh. It hurts.”
His warm lips meet mine.
I push against him, weakly. “You don’t want to kiss me. You’re gonna get sick.”
He replies by crushing his mouth to mine, firmer this time, slipping in some tongue. Then he pulls back, his lips hovering over mine. “Don’t tell me what I want,” he whispers, then nips at my bottom lip. “And if I get sick? I get sick.”
He kisses me again, slower this time, taking his time. A half smile breaks across his face, one dimple popping as he finally releases me from the hot torment of his mouth—a mouth that makes me wish I felt better, just to finish what he’s starting.
He meets my gaze. “Worth it,” he says, voice husky. “Now lie down and rest. That’s an order.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought I was supposed to be giving the orders.”
He laughs as I lie down on the couch, then grabs a nearby blanket and tucks it around me.
“Now,” he says once I’m settled, “what do you need? Ibuprofen? Tylenol? Whiskey? An orgasm? Your wish is my command.”
“Stop… making me laugh,” I groan through a breathy chuckle. “Some ibuprofen would be great.”
I close my eyes for a moment, the tension and bright light making my head throb even more. He’s back two minutes later with the pills and a glass of water.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Will you turn off this light?”
“Sure. Get some sleep. I got this. I’ll start with the kitchen. I can’t screw that up too badly. There’s only so many places this stuff can go.”
My eyes crack open, and I blink the sleep away. I don’t even remember closing them.
I’m in bed now—our bed. The soft light from my nightstand glows across the room. I must’ve been really out. Jensen moved me here, and I didn’t even notice.
He moves about the room quietly, pulling something from a box, then sliding open a drawer. I smile to myself, gratitude swelling in my chest. My stuff is going to end up in the weirdest places.
My gaze lands on the dresser, and a weak laugh slips from my lips. “Oh my God. What did you do?”
He turns around, a wicked grin stretched across his face. “What do you think of our new decorations?”
I have these heinous dolls from all over the world—souvenirs my grandma used to bring back every time she traveled.
They’re ugly as sin and creepy as hell, but I cherish them.
I usually keep them boxed up, but once a year, I’ll get them out just to look at them.
I would’ve preferred that not be today. And definitely not around Jensen.
Looks like he found the box and lined them all up on our dresser.
“Okay, but seriously. We gotta talk about these,” he teases. “Should I be concerned?”
I shake my head, laughing, and he joins in.
Every time I look at the dolls and imagine him finding the box, I laugh harder.
I wish I could’ve seen his face. I’m laughing so hard, tears sting my eyes—until suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns to crying.
Real tears. My chest tightens. My throat burns.
And before I can stop it, I’m sobbing. My face contorts into what’s probably the worst cry face imaginable, and I’m instantly mortified.
But I can’t help it. That ache—the one that misses my grandma—punches me in the gut. And it hurts.
And then I think of my mom, and I can’t breathe.
No. No. No. I’ve never cried in front of Jensen before. This is new. He hasn’t seen this side of me, and I’m not ready for that.
“Babe!” Jensen rushes to my side. “God, babe. It was a joke. I’m so sorry.”
He pulls me into a hug, and I sob like a baby in his arms. “Hey,” he says softly, kissing the top of my head, patient as ever.
Who cries the first day they move in with someone?
Eventually, my tears slow, and the room falls painfully quiet—just the sound of my quick, uneven breaths.
“Are you wishing you hadn’t asked me to move in?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“It’ll take a lot more than a few tears to scare me away.” He pulls back, his hands cupping my face. “You wanna talk about the dolls?” His lips twitch into a smile.
“They were from my grandma.”
His brows furrow. “Well, hey, I’ve never been a doll guy, but we can leave them up if you want.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “You’re so sweet. And I love you for that—but no. They’re so creepy. But I love them at the same time. It just made me sad for a minute.” I blow out a breath, still a little shaken. “I’m sorry. That was… different.”
“Hey.” His hand finds mine. “Don’t be sorry.” A soft smile touches his lips. “I’m just glad they can go back in the box… How you feeling? Aside from the doll fiasco?”
“Not great,” I say, my voice thick, nose too stuffed to breathe properly. “Turns out crying’s not great for a head cold.”
His lips press to my forehead in a lingering kiss, and I close my eyes, sinking into the safety of him. It’s the kind of tender moment where sometimes, what he doesn’t say says more than anything he ever could.
“Can I show you what I did with all your stuff?”
My eyes go wide. “Oh boy. I’m not gonna lie—I’m a little worried.”
“Nah, babe. You’re gonna be impressed. I paid attention when we were boxing up your stuff.” He stands, making his way over to the new dresser. “You get all six of these drawers. I just took the three on the left.”
He pulls one open. “Underwear’s in here.” He glances back at me. “And don’t worry, I kept it in that little cube box thing you had it in.” He closes it and opens the next. “Socks. In the cubes, and color coded. Just like before.”
He keeps going, pulling each drawer open and giving me the full rundown.
I hug my pillow tight to my chest, resting my chin on top, a smile planting itself on my face—even though my head’s pounding and I feel like crap.
He finishes his presentation, then slides into bed next to me, flipping on the TV. He finds the sports channel and turns the volume down low.
I close my eyes, sinking deeper into the mattress, soaking up the comfort of our new bed. Our new bed.
“Are you picturing me naked?”
My eyes snap open to find Jensen watching me, grinning.
“What?”
He laughs. “You had the biggest smile on your face with your eyes closed. Figured you were imagining me naked.”
“You’re so dumb.” I reach out to smack him, but he dodges it, laughing.
“I wouldn’t blame you, you know.” He smacks his lips together, his gaze settling on mine. There’s so much love in his eyes, so much adoration, it tugs at my chest. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does.
My smile deepens. “I was thinking about how comfortable this bed is… and how cool it is that it’s ours now. Not yours or mine.”
A small smile pulls at his mouth. “Yeah. It is cool.” His voice dips low and gravelly—sexy. His eyes sweep over my body, awakening all my senses. I wish I wasn’t sick.
Then his gaze returns to my face. “Tell me more about your grandma. You’ve never really talked about her.”
My eyes go misty at the mention of her. “Well… she was the best. She loved to travel. She’d go with her best friend.
They were both widowed pretty young, in their fifties.
I never knew my grandpa.” I pause to swallow, a sore throat setting in.
Great. “Anyway, she’d always bring me back these weird dolls.
I kind of hated it when I was little because I was like, what am I going to do with these?
” I laugh, and Jensen’s smile grows wider.
“I just wanted her to bring back some cool candy or chocolate or something. Something normal, you know?”
That pulls a laugh from him. “I mean…” He gestures toward the dolls. “I get it.”
My smile’s not going anywhere. “Anyway, as I got older, she started inviting me to her Pounce parties—it’s a fast-paced card game you play with a partner.
Every Thursday night in middle school, I’d hang out with my grandma and her friends.
There was always a buy-in, she’d cover mine.
And when we won, she’d split the pot with me. ”
“She sounds like a good time.”
“She was. She could hang with the best of them.”
His expression softens. “When did she pass?”
“A year before my mom.” I purse my lips. “That was a tough year. My grandma died, my mom was sick, and my dad… spiraled. I feel like I lost all three of the most important people in my life in the span of twelve months.”
I blink, forcing the tears back, and shift to a lighter note. “She left me her travel scrapbooks and all her romance novels—and of course, my collection of creepy dolls.”
He pulls his pillow down flat and turns, lying onto his side to face me. “I was wondering about the box of books, especially when you always use your Kindle.”
“Yeah.” My lips break into a grin. “Turns out my grandma loved a dirty book.”
“No way!”
“Oh yeah. Some of the smuttiest books I’ve ever read came from that box. I basically learned everything I know about sex from Grandma’s dirty little library.”
Jensen belts out a laugh. “Grandma’s dirty little library… Hey, is that a business idea?”
We laugh together, and I wince as the laughter spikes the pressure behind my eyes.
“I think I like Grandma,” he says, still grinning.
Our eyes lock, and even though we’ve slept in this room together for months, it feels different now, like we’re starting something new. Something permanent. Something forever.
“She would’ve loved you,” I whisper.
“Come here,” he murmurs, closing the space between us.
He shifts, pulling me in, and our lips meet.
My nose is stuffed, my head is pounding, and somewhere in the back of my mind I’m worried about getting him sick.
But it doesn’t matter. It’s healing—physically, emotionally.
The past, the present, all the broken pieces coming back together beneath Jensen’s mouth.
“Do you want me to stop so you can get some sleep?” he whispers against my skin.
I’m already shaking my head when he grins against my lips. “Or do you want to be a pillow princess so I can help you forget all about this cold?”
“Pillow princess,” I whisper, pleading softly.
He leans in, voice husky. “Is that a command?”
I nod.
“Good.”
He trails slow kisses down my jaw and neck, his hand sliding under the blanket to cup my breast, palming it gently.
I gasp, heat flooding my core and surging through my veins. Suddenly, I’m hot—and I pray it’s from him, not a fever. I reach for the hard length beneath his joggers, but he swats my hands away.
“No way, baby. You’re sick. I’m taking care of you tonight.”
His hand slides down my stomach and dips into my sweats, and I arch into him. He circles his fingers against my clit, drawing out a soft moan. “Babe,” I whisper, my eyes squeezing shut.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Open your eyes.”
So I do.
He meets my gaze. “I love you.”
Then he’s kissing me again before I can respond, filling me with the best remedy in the world.
Don’t they say that food is the best medicine?
Bullshit.
Jensen is.