Chapter 36 #2
“You’re so sexy, baby,” I murmur. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
My hand finds its way between her thighs, and she gasps against my mouth as I touch her—slow, purposeful.
By the time she’s trembling around me, she’s breathless, and so am I.
Then she drops to her knees, eyes locked on mine, and takes me in like I’m the only thing she’s ever wanted.
Every slow drag of her mouth has me bracing against the tile, fighting for control.
When I finally come, she looks up, lips wrapped tight, throat working, and swallows every drop.
Just like she promised she would.
I sink into the cold sheets, spent and satisfied. Skiing, sex, laughter, connection. Damn. It’s been a good day.
Alley curls up against me, nuzzling into the crook of my shoulder.
My hand drifts lazily over her back, tracing up and down.
Her ear presses firm to my chest, fingers toying with that little trail of hair below my belly button.
She loves that hair. I used to shave it, thought she preferred that, until one day she told me she missed it.
Said it was sexy. Manly. Haven’t touched a razor there since. If Alley likes it, that’s how it stays.
She props up onto an elbow, palm sliding over my chest. “Hey,” she says softly.
My brows pinch as I meet her gaze.
She hesitates. “I think we should talk about the stuff Sophie told us to talk about.”
“The thing we’re scared to share?”
“Yeah.” Her tone is timid, like she’s nervous just mentioning it.
“Okay. You want to go first, or me?”
“I think I want you to.”
She presses a quick kiss to my lips, then settles back against the pillow. I roll onto my side so I can look at her. Our fingers weave together, legs tangling under the duvet. The room is dark and quiet.
“Alright. I’ll go first…” My pulse kicks up a notch, nerves sparking. “God, I hope this doesn’t come out wrong.”
“Doesn’t matter. Just say it.”
I clear my throat and swallow. The words feel heavy in my chest. “I worry,” I start, because that’s the part I’m sure about, “I worry you’ll always be looking over your shoulder, waiting for me to fuck up—to relapse. And I get why. I don’t expect you to flip a switch and just trust me again.”
My thumb brushes over the back of her hand.
“I know trust isn’t something you hand over.
It’s something I have to earn back. But I’m afraid that no matter how much time passes, even as we start a family, you’ll just be waiting for shit to hit the fan, for me to be the way your dad was.
I can’t promise I won’t make mistakes, but I promise you I’ll show up.
Every day. I’ll do the boring, ugly, slow stuff—meetings, workouts, whatever it takes.
I’ll choose you and sobriety, over and over. ”
My voice drops, softer. “I can’t make you forgive me or trust me. Only you can do that. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to earn it, if you let me.”
She’s quiet for a moment, brows furrowed, lips pressed tight.
“I want to trust you again, Jensen. I really do. And I’m trying.
So hard.” She frees her hand from my grip and slides it up my arm.
“I made an appointment today… for hypnotherapy. It’s with the same person Cooper went to.
Leo referred her. Cooper said it helped her a lot.
” She takes a deep breath. “I want you to know I’m doing what I can to help myself heal, so I can learn to trust again.
Work through all the emotions and trauma.
Sooner rather than later.” She offers a weak smile.
“That’s great, babe. When’s your first appointment?”
“Next week. I’m kind of nervous. I don’t know what to expect. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“I get that. But you’ll be great. Just show up, do your best.” I press a quick kiss to her mouth. “Proud of you. I know you hate therapy.”
Her lips twitch.
“Your turn,” I whisper.
“Okay.” She lets out a shaky exhale. “I’m nervous. Which is crazy because it’s you. My heart’s racing.”
I give her hand a squeeze, chuckling. “It’s just me. You don’t have to be nervous.”
“I know,” she says softly. “I couldn’t decide what I wanted to tell you. But after reading your letters, it was pretty clear what I needed to say. I just… I don’t want it to hurt you.”
God, she’s so selfless. “Babe, I can handle it. Promise.”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “How do you know that? You don’t even know what it is.”
I kiss the back of her hand. “Because I’ve got you. As long as I have that, I can handle anything. We’re in this together. And we’re pretty fucking amazing when we’re a team.”
Her eyes gloss over. “But we were a team”—she swallows hard, voice cracking—“before.”
I let go of her hand and comb my fingers through her hair, letting my palm settle against the side of her head, my thumb brushing her temple. I shake my head. “No, babe. Not like we thought.”
Her brows scrunch.
“That’s where things went wrong. We were on the same team, but I was playing my own game. I was a selfish teammate. When I needed help, I kept the ball, thinking I could score if I just ran faster. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.”
She smiles. “A football analogy?”
I laugh. “Always.” My hand drops to her shoulder, fingers trailing down her arm, brushing her smooth skin.
“I won’t play that way again. We’re in this together.
I want you in every part of my life. I’ll share the hard stuff.
I’ll let you be there for me. And I’ll be there for you.
” I kiss her forehead. “But you’ve got to do the same.
And right now is one of those times. You can trust me with this, babe. I can handle it.”
Her eyes search mine, the faintest smile tugging at her lips before it slips away.
“Alright. I can do that.” She exhales, shakier this time.
“I’m scared—like, really, really scared—to have kids with you after everything.
And that—” Her voice breaks, and a sob rips out, gutting me, shattering something deep in my chest. “That used to be what I looked forward to most. Because I know you’ll be such a great dad.
But now the possibility of relapse hangs over that dream, casting a shadow I can’t seem to shake.
I just can’t see it. I can’t get past these images I have of you…
and then these innocent kids caught in it.
” Her hand slips from mine as she wipes at her tears.
“I keep seeing my dad when I was growing up, but now it’s you. And it terrifies me.”
The words hang like a loaded gun between us. Heavy. Unforgiving.
I want kids more than anything. Always have. But I want them with her. I’ve been wanting to bring it up, to talk about it, but the timing’s never felt right. She’s been too fragile, too uncertain.
We haven’t exactly been careful, either.
Alley’s struggled to get pregnant before, and I think she just assumes she can’t.
Sometimes I catch myself praying she’ll get pregnant, while at the same time praying she won’t.
Because yeah, I want that, but not until she’s ready.
I don’t want her to feel stuck with me. I want her to choose me.
To trust me enough to say, Okay, let’s do this. Let’s start a family.
We’re close. I can feel it. Tonight’s been a huge step, but this? This is the hurdle I don’t know how to clear. I’m just glad she made that therapy appointment, that we’re still seeing Sophie. That someone can help us figure out all these unknowns.
“It’s okay you feel that way,” I finally say. “Understandable, even.”
Her fingers toy with mine. “I know. It just… sucks. Makes it so hard.”
“It does suck,” I agree quietly. “And it is hard. But anything worth having usually is.” I swallow, the words catching.
“And this—us, our future—that’s worth it.
We can’t change the past. All we can do is decide how bad we want it.
And I want it, babe. We’re going to make an incredible family someday.
We’re doing the work. We just have to take it one day at a time.
” My thumb brushes over her knuckles. “Everything else will fall into place if we keep showing up. Be present. Enjoy today. Enjoy each other.”
Her eyes are wet, but a smile curves her mouth. “I want that. More than anything.”
“Then let’s get it, baby.” I crash my mouth to hers, letting this kiss say everything I can’t.
My lips slide against hers as I roll onto my elbow, leaning over her. Her arms lock tight around my neck, and the next kiss is firmer, hungrier.
“You’re so amazing,” she whispers into my mouth. “I fucking love you.”
A low chuckle rumbles out of me. I love when Alley says fuck. It’s rare, vulnerable, real—and it wrecks me every time.
I pull her closer, voice deep and rough. “I fucking love you too.”