15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
W hen they finally stepped out of the shower, Jesse grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Hayley first, rubbing her down with slow, deliberate strokes, careful with every inch of her skin like she was something fragile. Something precious.
She wasn’t, though. She was tough as hell.
But Jesse still handled her like this, every single time.
“C’mere,” he said, steering her toward the bedroom with a warm palm at her back.
She followed, her body still humming, still heated from him, from everything.
Jesse opened a dresser drawer, rummaging for a second before pulling out a worn, faded Disturbed band tee—the same one she’d practically lived in three years ago, back when his apartment had felt as much like home as her own.
She took it, something tugging deep in her chest as she pulled it over her head. The fabric was soft, oversized, smelled like him.
She looked up at him, but he was already running a towel through his damp curls, tossing it aside, sliding on a pair of boxers before leading her into the living room.
“Sit,” he told her, nodding to the couch.
She didn’t argue. Didn’t even hesitate. She curled into the corner, pulling her knees up, sinking into the cushions, watching as he moved to the small kitchen, flipping on the kettle.
Hayley glanced at her phone. 9 p.m. on a Friday. Her friends were waiting for her downtown, expecting her at bars, at clubs, at places with flashing lights and music so loud it drowned out her thoughts.
She fired off a few texts. Bailing. Feigning exhaustion.
The truth was—there was no place she’d rather be than here.
“Hungry?” Jesse asked, glancing at her over his shoulder.
“No.”
He cocked his head, drying off a mug, his gaze too knowing. “You ate?”
She hesitated.
Jesse’s jaw ticked. “Tell me what you had for dinner.”
“Um…”
His eyes narrowed.
“Jesse—”
“I’m making you something.” His voice left no room for debate.
She sighed, sinking deeper into the couch, watching as he pulled a box of soup from the cupboard.
“I haven’t got groceries yet,” he muttered, shaking his head. “So you’ll have to suffer through this. But something at least.”
She didn’t argue. Didn’t say anything, just let herself watch him.
The way he moved around the kitchen, all fluid efficiency, checking the kettle, stirring the soup, sliding a pan onto the stove to toast the bread.
A few minutes later, he pressed a warm mug into her hands.
“Tea,” he said. “Just how you like it. With honey.”
Hayley wrapped her fingers around the ceramic, inhaling the steam, feeling something crack in her chest.
How did he still remember?
How did he still know everything?
Ten minutes later, he placed a plate in front of her. Tomato soup and grilled cheese. With a pickle on the side.
Just like always.
Hayley exhaled softly, setting her tea down, letting her head fall against his shoulder.
Jesse reached for her without hesitation, pulling her in, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Her legs tangled with his. His arms wrapped around her.
And just like that—she melted into him, into this.
Jesse tore off a corner of his grilled cheese and dunked it into the soup, taking a slow, deliberate bite like he was really considering it.
“Damn,” he said, chewing, eyes flicking to hers. “I forgot how good I am at this.”
Hayley snorted. “Oh, yeah. Culinary prodigy over here.”
He pointed at her with the sandwich. “Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”
“I mean, the pickle on the side really elevates it to fine dining.”
Jesse grinned, taking another bite, but his eyes never left hers.
It had been six weeks.
Six weeks since she’d been in this apartment. Since they’d curled up like this, limbs tangled, nowhere else to be, just existing together.
The soup was warm, the tea was soothing, but none of it compared to this.
Jesse nodded toward her, still chewing. “So, tell me, rockstar—how was it?”
She exhaled, shaking her head. “Unreal.”
“Yeah?”
Hayley leaned back into the couch, stretching her legs over his lap, watching as he instinctively started rubbing slow circles into her bare thigh. Casual. Easy. Like he didn’t even have to think about touching her.
“The crowds were insane,” she continued. “We had, like, 50,000 people screaming our lyrics back at us. The press was wild. The shows were wild. The afterparties were wild.”
Jesse gave her a dry look. “Yeah? You get real wild?”
She smirked, sipping her tea. “Define wild.”
Jesse arched a brow. “Do I need to kill Caiden?”
Hayley laughed. “What? No!”
Jesse narrowed his eyes, chewing slowly. “You sure?”
“Jesse.” She nudged his thigh with her foot. “He’s a friend.”
“He’s a snake.”
Hayley rolled her eyes. “Says the man who ghosted me for six weeks.”
Jesse sighed, setting his plate down, his hand sliding up to squeeze her knee. “You know I couldn’t call.”
She did. She knew that.
But it didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt.
She swallowed, forcing a small smile. “Alright, Mr. Navy SEAL, tell me—what top-secret, classified, black-ops shit were you up to while I was dodging paparazzi and singing my heart out?”
Jesse leaned back, looking smug as hell. “Saving the world.”
She scoffed. “Oh, please.”
“No, really. Super top-secret. Super dangerous. Super badass.” He shot her that killer grin. “You shouldn’t even be asking.”
“Just a humble hero.” She snatched his grilled cheese sandwich right out of his hand and took a bite. She gave him a look, challenging him to just try to get it back.
Jesse narrowed his eyes. “You gonna share that, or—”
“Nope.” She grinned, chewing. “You owe me.”
Jesse lunged.
Hayley shrieked, laughing as he grabbed for her, wrestling the sandwich back from her, pressing her into the couch as she kicked and swatted at him.
“Food thief!” he accused, pinning her wrists, grinning down at her. “I knew it. Some things never change.”
Hayley panted, eyes locked on his.
And just like that—the laughter died.
Because this.
Them.
The way they fell into each other so damn effortlessly.
The way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world.
The way she felt safe in his arms, even when he was teasing her, even when she was kicking and fighting and pretending she didn’t feel every inch of him.
Jesse’s breath was warm against her lips, his body so close, so solid, so Jesse.
His hands loosened on her wrists, his thumb brushing over her pulse. “I missed you, you know.”
Hayley’s stomach flipped.
She swallowed, forcing a teasing smirk. “Clearly. You’re practically crying over a stolen sandwich.”
Jesse huffed a laugh, dropping his forehead to hers. “You drive me insane.”
“Likewise, babe.”
His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns up her arm. “Six weeks gave me too much time to think.”
Her heart stuttered. “Sounds dangerous.”
“You waited for me?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. Because the way her body melted against his? The way her hands ached to pull him closer? They both knew.
Jesse exhaled, kissing her soft, slow, lingering. And when he finally pulled away, he smirked. “Now give me back my damn sandwich.”
She handed it to him and then shifted. “Jesse…”
“Yeah?” He hummed, tilting his head down to press a slow, lazy kiss against her lips.
“Did you think I was going to get with Caiden on tour?”
He grinned slowly, assessing her, and finally he admitted, “No, not really. But I hate to see him try.”
Hayley picked up the mug from the table, lifting it to her lips, taking a slow sip of the tea. The warmth spread through her, but it did nothing to steady the racing of her pulse.
Jesse sat beside her, silent. Watching.
He was always watching.
Even when he wasn’t saying a word, he was reading her, waiting, anticipating.
“I need to tell you something.” She set the mug down on the coffee table.
His eyes never left her.
The air shifted.
The lightness from before had evaporated, replaced with something heavier, sharper.
Then—soft, quiet. “What’s up, Fox?”
Hayley’s stomach tightened. This was it.
She licked her lips, inhaled, and forced the words out before she could stop herself.
“I’m pregnant.”
Silence.
Jesse didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
Hayley gripped the edge of her t-shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric. Her throat was tight.
“It’s yours,” she said, voice steadier than she felt. “From the night before you left.”
More silence.
And then—Jesse inhaled, slow and deep.
His brows furrowed, just barely, golden eyes locked onto her, searching, processing.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” Hayley nodded. “I’ve already been to the doctor.”
A slow breath.
“I’m doing well.” She swallowed. “Baby looks healthy. It’s still early. But—yeah. It’s real.”
Jesse sat back, dragging a hand through his damp curls.
Hayley braced herself.
For anger.
For frustration.
For some kind of Jesse-esque self-destruction.
She expected resistance, denial, panic.
What she didn’t expect—
Was the way he exhaled, shaking his head once, and said, “Good.”
Hayley blinked. “What?”
Jesse’s lips tugged into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but wasn’t fear either.
“I’m happy to hear that,” he said simply.
Her stomach flipped.
“What?” she repeated.
He turned fully toward her, reaching out, his fingers sliding gently against her thigh, grounding her. “Do you want this?”
She chewed her lip, afraid to admit the truth, but looking into his eyes—the truth slipped out anyway. “Yes, I want this.”
“We’ll figure it out then,” he said. “Move in together. Get married. Get a place. Make it work.”
Hayley’s heart slammed against her ribs.
She had braced for an explosion.
Instead, he was calm. Certain.
Like he had already decided. Like it was that simple.
But it wasn’t simple.
She ran a hand through her damp hair, shaking her head. “Jesse, this isn’t just some easy next step. My life—my career—everything is happening so fast. The band is blowing up. The label is pushing us harder than ever. I don’t even know what my life is going to look like in six months, let alone—”
She broke off, rubbing at her temple.
“I don’t know how to have it all.” Her voice cracked slightly. “I feel like I have to choose. One or the other.”
Jesse watched her.
Then—he exhaled, reaching for her, tucking her into his arms, holding her like he had every intention of never letting go.
“You don’t have to choose.” His voice was steady, firm. “I’m all in. We’ll make it all work. Whatever it takes.”
Hayley pressed her face into his chest, closing her eyes.
She wanted to believe that.
More than anything, she wanted to believe that.
Jesse’s fingers tilted her chin up, his golden eyes dark and unreadable, his touch grounding, steadying.
“If I was going to have a surprise baby with anyone,” he said, voice low, raw, “it would only ever be you.”
Hayley’s stomach tightened.
His thumb brushed over her jaw, gentle, reverent.
“The sick part of me?” He exhaled sharply, the ghost of a smirk curling his lips. “I’m fucking thrilled that you’re locked in with me now.”
He picked up her left hand as if trying to assess the size of her ring finger.
Her breath hitched, heart pounding, emotions tangled.
And maybe it was the exhaustion, the jet lag, the overwhelming weight of everything, but—
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you mean for this to happen?”
Jesse laughed.
A full, deep, throaty laugh, something unrestrained and real—something she hadn’t heard in so damn long that it made her chest ache.
“God, no.” He shook his head, amusement flickering across his face. “But…”
He trailed off, eyes raking over her, sliding down to where his oversized t-shirt clung to her frame, where she was carrying something that was half him, half her.
And then—his smirk turned wicked.
“There is something so goddamn hot about you carrying my child.”
Hayley’s breath stalled.
Then—his lips were on hers.
Slow.
Deep.
Not rushed, not frantic, not desperate.
Loving.
His hands slid into her damp hair, his mouth moving against hers like he had all the time in the world.
Like he was telling her, I’ve always loved you. This is happening. And I want it.
And fuck—
For the first time since she had seen those two pink lines, she thought…
Maybe.