24
JACKSON
It’s pouring rain—icy, slushy fucking rain. Hail pelts the windows, creating a chaotic rhythm that fills the loft.
I enjoy the sound. It’s peaceful, it could lull me to sleep—especially since I didn’t sleep much last night, even with our slumber party. What I don’t enjoy is being nailed by frozen golf balls while I load our shit into the vehicle.
Dear Mother Nature, is this necessary? There’s absolutely no purpose for this weather. None.
Ethan grew up here, and look at him. He’s gloomy. I’d be a miserable bastard too if I didn’t see the sun until I was thirty-five.
My eyes catch on the mismatched, decades-old furniture, and I smile.
Despite the bitter cold, I’ll miss this place.
I’ll miss the mornings I sat here eating donuts and listening to the twins razz each other over stupid shit, like who was better at Call of Duty or whose body count was higher.
Foolish arguments, since I’m fairly certain they only play together, and I don’t mean just video games.
Aurora was right: this loft is a dream. It’s isolated but not lonely, and Ethan’s family has everything to do with that.
“Wife,” I shout over my shoulder. “Don’t let them throw out the furniture.”
Between now and when we play here next, which is in March—and with Aurora’s due date, who knows if we’ll be traveling—the loft is being remodeled, completely gutted.
“Okay, husband ,” she yells from the kitchen, where she’s making coffee with the Viking.
I grab our bags from the bedroom closet and toss them on the bed. Then, exhausted by the mere thought of packing Aurora’s clothes and saying goodbye, I plop my ass onto the mattress and drop my face into my hands.
Tears burn behind my eyelids. Fuck, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to return to LA. I don’t want to deal with the paparazzi or the LAPD. I’ll be forced to confront Kyle’s death and make arrangements regarding his estate.
I’d rather hide out in dreary New York.
I’d rather have nights with the three of us in this bed.
Someone snatches my baseball cap and ruffles my hair, breaking me from spiraling thoughts.
I glance up, and there he is, standing between my legs. I don’t know what else to say but, “Give me my hat, asshole.”
Ethan flips it around and puts it on, his thick, wavy hair escaping.
It looks good on him. “You never wear a hat.”
He takes it off and chucks it onto the bed. “Gives me a headache.”
“That’s ’cause you need a real haircut.”
“A real haircut? You mean a hundred-dollar haircut.”
“Yes, a twenty-dollar street barber is not taming that mop on your head.”
He smiles, and those gray eyes gleam. “Your wife likes it.”
“Joke’s getting old, just like you.”
He laughs on his way to the closet, returning with an armful of Aurora’s clothes and laying them over the foot of the bed. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t wanna leave?”
“No.” It comes out a little petulant, I won’t lie.
He flashes me a doubtful glance. “You wanna stay in this loft? With the cubicle walls and slanted floors? Are the donuts that good?”
“Yes, and I like this bed.” I hold his gaze.
He shakes his head. “Both of you, so fucking clingy.”
I don’t miss the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. He loves us and he knows it.
He comes between my legs again and slides his fingers through my hair. It’s new, and I don’t hate it—far from it. My heart skips a beat, and I have to force myself to breathe and not lean into his caress.
For once, I feel awkward. What to do with my hands? I know what I want to do with them, but if I touch him, he’ll probably avoid me for days. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.” My words come out breathless, and I’m sure I’m giving him that look he called me out on.
Unsurprisingly, his cheeks flush, his arm drops to his side, and he averts his gaze.
I deflate, my shoulders drooping. “Why are you afraid of things being good?” We could be so fucking good together—more than just sex, no matter what he says.
“Ask yourself that.” He walks away to get another load of clothes or to avoid me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He juts his chin toward the kitchen.
I curl my lip. “Reece?”
He shrugs. “It’s easier with him here. I have a lot less to worry about.”
“Except he’s in love with her. Do you not worry about that?”
Leaning in, he lowers his tone. “Don’t you want someone who loves her to care for her?
I like knowing we can focus on our jobs without worrying about her and our family.
With him here, I know he won’t let anything happen to her—or you.
If you haven’t noticed, you two take a lot of energy. Imagine adding a baby.”
“I don’t have to play.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I want you to play. I want to coach you. You’re talented, and it’s good for you. I’ll never force you or hold our relationship over your head, but we can make this work.”
A thought comes to mind, and I can’t hide my grin. I see why Aurora acts like a brat to get his attention. “I’ll play, just maybe not score. I’m not feeling very motivated.”
“You’ll score.”
I cock a brow. “Will I?”
He hits me with that death glare. “I can be very creative with punishments, Jax. Don’t test me.”
My stomach does somersaults. Why is my stomach doing somersaults? Fuck, do I want him to punish me, to be rough with me? Damn, I think I do. “Oh, yeah?” That’s it. Two words. That’s all I manage.
“Yeah,” he answers with certainty. “Did you know there’s a birth control that lasts up to five years? Another kid while I’m coaching might not be a good idea. I’m sure Aurora will understand.”
All playfulness, or desire, or whatever I was feeling, dies. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“If I have to worry about you two and can’t focus on my job and my star player isn’t performing…I won’t have the energy for sex or a second baby.”
“You manipulative bastard. I hate you. You better take some fucking vitamins and Viagra.”
He chuckles and heads back to the closet.
“I’m serious! I’m only twenty-five, old man.”
He throws another pile of clothes onto the bed. “We can all get what we want.”
“He has a career. You don’t even know where this’ll lead.”
“I do. I once joked about bringing a fourth into this love triangle, and she named him . Have you ever seen her comfortable enough to hug someone else? He’s confused, thinks she’s just affectionate.
She’s not. I’ve watched her around Grant.
She gives him a stiff, half-assed hug.” He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.
“She won’t cheat on us, but she asked for him specifically as her bodyguard. ”
A derisive scoff escapes me. “He wants more than that.”
“She’s pregnant. Maybe if she wasn’t…”
More reason to have another one. “I can fix that.”
I pack and mull over his words. When we finish, I grab a bag and hoist it over my shoulder. “You’re saying with Reece around, you’ll be less stressed? You’d be open to seeing where this leads and having a bigger family?”
“Theoretically, yes.” He zips up a duffel. “You ready, brat, or you gonna pout some more?”
I shake my head. “The shit I do for you.”
He weaves his fingers through my hair. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”