Chapter 17 Jaxon
Jaxon
I’m singing… in the shower.
I’m actually singing in the damn shower.
I never sing in the shower.
That thought brings on a laugh, a new kind of lightness inside me.
“Something funny in there?” Rowyn calls out. “Or is a woman not allowed to ask that to a guy alone in the shower… doing God knows what?”
I slide the shower door open and spread my arms. “Are you saying this is something to laugh at? My cock’s still at half-mast from my morning pudge.”
“Nope. Nothing to laugh about there.” She grins.
“Are you sure you’re not going to join me?” I ask, as I recognize just how much that disappoints me, how much I suddenly dislike that I’m giving her lessons so she can please another man. What the fuck was I thinking?
“If I do, things will happen.” I give her a naughty grin that tells her she’s not wrong, and she shakes her head. “I’ll never get to work on time. And I’ve got a busy day. So do you.”
“Right. I’ll pick you up tonight before we go to Penn and Jaylynn’s.”
“I can drive myself there. I have to shower and change into clean clothes after work anyway. And I don’t want to put you out.”
I love how easy the morning-after is for us. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel. Embarrassed, maybe, or thinking we’d crossed a line we shouldn’t. But there’s a happiness about her, a teasing spark. I think she needed the sex as much as I did.
I point at her. “But I love putting out.”
She snatches up a washcloth and throws it at me. “Don’t I know it.”
I catch the cloth midair. “Hey, that’s cotton abuse. A crime that comes with punishment.”
“Promises, promises,” she tosses back as she walks away. “My Uber should be here in a minute.”
I wanted to drive her, but she’s used to her independence, so I didn’t argue.
“I’ll see myself out.”
“Make sure you get something to eat. I still have some of those muffins you love in the freezer.”
Jesus, look how domesticated we already are.
“I’ll probably take you up on that,” she calls over her shoulder before leaving the room.
I finish washing up and grab a towel to dry off. When I walk back into the bedroom, I see she’s made the bed and my clothes are in the hamper. I step up to the bed and laugh out loud when I find her torn panties sprawled across it.
My souvenir.
I plan to get many, many more.
I drop onto the bed, still grinning, but as I look around my pristine room, a part of me feels a pang of loneliness. Other than the panties, there’s no sign she was even here, and that bothers me.
Growing up in an inn, as an only child, the place was always chaotic, especially during the holidays.
There was always someone to talk to, play with, or cook and share meals with.
When Jesse, who grew up in Halifax, told us about the famous Maritime kitchen parties, I compared Snowberry to that.
I miss it. It was crazy at times, sure, but I miss it.
And last night… I had it with Rowyn. She brought life to this house. To me.
What was it like for her, growing up in a single-family home with a mother who might have resented her?
Judging by the order of my room and the dedication she gives her career, her childhood must have been extremely structured…
maybe even harsh. She doesn’t talk about it much, only opening up briefly the other day, but it’s clear her mother wants her daughter to put her career first, so she won’t have to rely on anyone, or get left behind with a child to raise, on her own.
But is that what Rowyn really wants? She says it is, but I’m not entirely sure.
I slick my hands through my hair and get dressed for practice. Downstairs, I hear the door open and click closed. I walk to the window and see Rowyn climbing into the back seat of a car. She glances up, and my heart pumps when she gives a little wave. I wave back and watch her drive away.
I head downstairs. A cup is waiting for me on the counter, a pod in the coffee machine, and a plate with a still-frozen muffin.
My chest squeezes at her thoughtfulness.
I laugh and press the button to start brewing.
I’m about to stick the muffin in the microwave when my phone pings.
It’s Penn, letting me know a few guys are at the Nook, grabbing a bite before practice.
A little team camaraderie before we hit the ice sounds just about right. Now, I just need to get this permanent smirk off my face so I’m not walking around like a hormonal teen who got laid last night. Not that anyone would notice… okay, maybe everyone would notice. Definitely everyone. Ugh.
The coffee machine beeps, so I take a few big sips to fuel myself for the drive.
I set the cup down, trying to savor the quiet morning like I used to, but it’s gone.
Quiet mornings now come with a side of ‘holy crap, I can’t stop thinking about her’.
I grab my keys from the bowl, sliding them into my pocket, and mentally debate if I should give Rowyn a spare key.
Couples do that, right? You share keys, trust, and occasionally your Netflix password.
I snatch up my wallet, toss on a light coat, and head outside.
The morning sun is bright, the streets buzzing with life.
I maneuver through traffic toward the Nook, cursing under my breath as I hunt for parking.
Finally, I snag a spot and pause, just for a second.
Rowyn… is she grabbing coffee at her favorite spot?
Maybe flirting with hot coffee shop guy.
Maybe laughing too loud, hair messy, her eyes sparkling?
I should hope she is.
But I don’t. Dammit.
I step from the car and slam the door harder than necessary. Nothing says I’m in a mood like denting the quiet morning with your rageful car closure.
“Whoa, someone piss in your cereal?”
I spin to see Ash approaching, balancing boxes like a human forklift. “No,” I grumble. “Let me help.”
He passes me a box with the ease of someone who has literally moved mountains. “What is all this?”
“The flour delivery didn’t come. Didn’t get called in, I guess. Gina is just too run off her feet, taking on too many roles. I did an early morning run to help her out.” I glance at the dark circles under his eyes.
“Dude, you look like you’re auditioning for a zombie movie.”
He snorts. “Yeah, worst time with the finals closing in on us. But with college out and the students gone home, Gina needs help.”
We reach the café door, me balancing a box while trying not to topple over like a clumsy circus act, and I pull it open. The smell of fresh coffee and baked goods hits, warm and comforting. Like home.
“Short-staffed,” some girl mutters, dodging me, still half-asleep as she hurries out the door.
I get out of her way quickly and Ash just shakes his head, muttering something about hoping they get help soon, as we set the boxes down in the back.
Gina, who looks like she’s run off her feet, steps up to him.
“Thanks, babe.” He bends and gives her a kiss and my heart tightens as I watch the way they make marriage look so easy.
But I guess, like everyone, they had a past they both had to work through, and they put in the work, which is why they are where they are today, happy parents to two kids.
Grant, Ash’s dad, walks into the room. “Got the kids off to school,” he tells us with a big grin that displays how much he loves his grandkids.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Gina adds, giving his arm a soft squeeze.
“Anything I can do to help with the morning rush?” he asks as Maria steps into the kitchen. Now here’s a story. Grant lives with Maria’s mother, Elena, and Gina had Zoe, her oldest, with Maria’s now ex-husband Lucian when she was nursing and living in California.
Apparently Gina had no idea the guy was already married with two boys. Talk about a wide web. I have no idea how they all got through it and Gina and Maria are now good friends, with Maria working at the café and living in the apartment above with her two teenage boys.
It gives me hope for love and happily ever after.
If they can move past deceit, Jaxon, why can’t you?
“Go sit, Grant,” Gina says. “The morning rush is dying down. Maria will get you your favorite treat.”
He rubs his stomach. “Don’t tell Elena. She’s been watching my cholesterol since my last doc’s visit.”
Gina laughs at that, and Ash shakes his head.
His father is in great shape, and I once remember the story they told when he pretended to be sick to get Gina to stay with Ash, because he was playing matchmaker.
It worked until they clued in and Gina decided she had no choice but to take his temperature rectally to see if the oral was accurate. Then the gig was up. But it was cute.
“Come on, Grant.” I put my hand on his shoulder and lead him into the room, where Penn is sitting. Gina ushers Ash out, even though he wants to help. We all sit, and Maria brings us coffee.
“Who’s this lovely girl I’m hearing about, Jaxon?” Grant asks as he opens a packet of sugar and dumps it into his black coffee. I quickly glance at Penn, although I don’t know why. He knows what the two of us are up to, and has done it himself.
“Rowyn Perry is a journalist. She works at the Insider.” He frowns. “What, you don’t like her stories?”
“No it’s not her stories I don’t like, it’s the guy…oh, what the heck is his name.”
“Billy,” I provide somehow knowing exactly who he’s talking about.
He shakes his head, angry. “That asshole once tried to do a story on Ash. Came to my door, looking for dirt about his mother. The only thing I gave him was a boot to the ass.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Don’t trust him.”
“I don’t,” I say. He gives me a tortured look like it’s possible I could get duped anyway.
But that won’t happen because I’ve been there, done that, and I’m pretty careful who I let into my life.
Rowyn is not after a story. She’s after my body and what I can do with it to help her.
Which when I think about it, is all kinds of strange.
“Bring her in sometime, I’d love to get to know her,” Grant says.
I cock my head. Is he looking to protect me?
“It’s okay, Dad,” Ash says. “I’m meeting her tonight at Penn’s. I’ll do all the reconnaissance.” He laughs. “But she’s one of the good ones. She really helped Rip’s wife when she was in a bind.”
“Okay, I just worry about you boys.”
I love that about him. I take a sip of my coffee as Maria brings us cinnamon rolls and some omelets and sausages to fuel us for our morning practice. That’s when I realize what Ash just said.
“Oh, you’re coming for dinner too?” I ask casually. I love the guy, I really do, but tonight was about not having to pretend in front of others and just enjoy ourselves.
“Yeah, Penn asked us. We all think Gina needs a break from here, from cooking, and from parenting.”
“That’s where I come in,” Grant says proudly, and I nod.
They’re lucky to have him. Christ, if I ever had kids, I know my parents would be the same way.
Back when I just got out of high school when I thought Ember was pregnant—back when I was ready to marry her—they’d worried we were too young, too reckless, too focused on my career.
But they’d still have shown up. They’d have helped me figure it out, carry some of the weight.
We all know how that turned out, thanks to the damn media.
I dig into my food, trying to chew through the memories. Now isn’t the time to look back. Playoffs are coming, and I need my head clear, my body fueled.
The table quiets, the air thick with the sound of forks scraping plates, until the bell over the door jingles. Grant’s head snaps up, a low snarl rumbling from his throat.
I follow his gaze.
My stomach knots hard enough to steal my breath.
Billy strolls in like he owns the place, though I’ve never seen him set foot in here before.
“Jesus,” Grant mutters. “Speak of the devil.”
Penn’s chair creaks. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
Yeah.
That’s what I’d like to know, too.