27. Sam
sam
. . .
My eyes crack open, a sliver of morning light poking through the bottom of the curtains, and my body stretches.
The first thing I notice is that I’m alone.
My hands run over cold sheets, and I realize it's been this way for a while.
Sitting up, the blankets pool at my waist, and I reach for my phone.
Ten in the morning! I never sleep in this late.
The last time I slept this long was when I was sick.
It dawns on me next that I am, in fact, holding my phone, which means Jameson gave it back to me before he left this morning. Right then a text pops through.
KANE: You needed the sleep. Your mind and body were exhausted.
KANE: Make sure to check in with your girls. I didn’t touch any of their texts.
KANE: Also, you look beautiful this morning.
My gaze snaps around the room, looking for the camera or cameras. I wasn’t aware he had his room bugged as well. My heart races, and soon, I realize it's for an entirely different reason. It's not because he can just see but that he’s watching.
I’m starting to fear that I’m just as gone for him, obsessed and head over heels.
I should be mad he derailed my last two days, keeping me locked here, but a small part of my brain kept whispering that I needed the break.
I was even having crazier thoughts, wondering if I had overreacted to what I had found out.
Jameson had made a point; he never hurt me.
He never lied. He never held me back. He has given me everything he thought I wanted.
And he had been right. That list was made when I was eighteen, but everything on it is just as true then as it is now.
Yet, I got mad at him for it last night.
My mind is everywhere, and while I’m not sure if I can trust him and I feel like he lied to me, I always come back to what he said.
He never intended for me to find out. And if I hadn’t found out, I would have gone on with my life, oblivious and happy.
Jameson makes me happy. He also makes me feel loved and cherished.
He has made my life a dream come true. Why am I mad about that?
My fingers type on the keyboard before I can stop myself and I grin, imagining his response.
I hope you’re watching now, Kane. Slowly, I get out of bed, swaying my hips toward the middle of the room.
I’m not exactly sure where he’s watching from, but I’m determined at this point.
Slowly, my fingers slip inside the waistband of my pajama pants and I slip them down over my thighs.
The material falls to the floor and I step over it, twirling my ass around the room.
I reach for the hem of my pajama shirt next, and slowly, inch by inch, bring it up over my belly, my breasts, then my head.
Holding the material between my two fingers, I let it drop to the floor.
My hand reaches for my hair, and I slide the hair tie out, letting my long blonde tresses fall around me.
I grin, hoping Kane is enjoying this little striptease that he can only watch.
Tits in the air, I make sure to sway my way to the bathroom.
Right inside the door, I start to shimmy my panties down before stepping all the way inside.
As a last thought, I toss the little scrap of material out the door before closing it.
I can hear my phone vibrating on the nightstand and I giggle throughout my entire shower.
Once I’m clean and dressed, I pick up my phone, biting my lip when Jameson’s name flashes on the screen.
KANE: That wasn’t nice, Pretty Girl.
KANE: Best striptease I’ve ever seen. Feel free to give me a repeat later.
I roll my eyes and scoff at his request, even while my stomach flutters just imagining stripping for him, straddling his lap, and seeing how long I can keep him on edge.
My cheeks flush at the image and I saunter out of the hallway and to the kitchen.
It's just me this morning so I grab some yogurt, granola and strawberries before diving into my phone. A notification for 48 text messages sits in my inbox. When I click on them, the majority of those belong to our girls’ group chat.
I respond to the last few with a quick rundown on what's happened. Their responses are immediate.
EMMA: He actually locked you in!?!
RILEY: I can’t tell if you’re happy about this or not…
EMMA: How could she be happy about it?
RILEY: I’m sure Kane has been keeping her very entertained.
ISLA: She hasn’t asked us to get her out yet
ME: I’m fine. And I don’t want to leave yet…
RILEY: I KNEW IT!
Laughing, I quickly text that I’ll chat with them tomorrow.
I’m determined to make it to practice. Coach will flip if I miss too much time right now before the playoffs.
I finish eating breakfast and clean up around the house and Dylan’s room.
I can’t wait to see our little girl tonight. I miss her and it's only been two days.
Soon, it's early afternoon, and the doorbell rings. My brow rises, and I walk over to the window, peering down. A moving truck sits outside. My phone vibrates with a new message from Jameson.
KANE: I’m on my way. Don’t answer it.
My lips pull tight in a frown. Sure enough, two minutes later, the doors open and I hear Jameson instructing where to bring the boxes.
I watch as he and two other guys wearing matching polos with the moving company logo on them lug over fifteen boxes up the stairs and pile them in the corner they were directed to.
When they’re done, Jameson hands one of the guys a stack of bills and claps him on the shoulder.
I glance around the room, unsure about what just happened. “What is all of this?”
Jameson eyes me and walks over to one of the boxes, popping it open. Instantly I recognize the white and tan fluffy blanket on the top. “That’s my blanket. From my apartment.”
He doesn’t answer, just pulls the material from the box and throws it on the couch. Photo frames come out next and I’m snapped out of my trance.
“Jameson! Is this all from my apartment? What are you doing?” I reach for the frame in his hand, but he moves his arm out wide and out of my reach.
“I’m helping you unpack.” There's a glint in his eyes and his smile is all mischief and zero regrets.
My mind whirls and anger slams into my chest. I stomp my foot, instantly wishing I hadn’t reacted that way when his grin grows bigger. Irritation climbs up my throat. “I don’t live here.”
His face darkens and his hand cups my jaw, forcing me to meet his fiery amber gaze.
“You do now, Pretty Girl. You and Dylan officially moved in today. Each box has all your things. Dishes, clothes, toiletries, decorations, everything. I put your furniture in storage for now until we decide what to do with it. Eventually we’ll move once you get drafted and we can choose then to bring it with us, sell it or donate it even.
Maybe a single parent who is starting over might want it. ”
I search his eyes for any hint of playfulness, but all I see is resolution.
He’s dead serious. My heart slams inside my rib cage, and my stomach dips.
“You don’t know that I’m going to be drafted,” I sputter out, my mind zinging in all different directions.
“Don’t act like a caveman, Kane! I can’t just move here.
I have a lease. Bills. I like my bedspread more than yours and my kitchen table.
You can’t just–I can’t. You didn’t even ask me to live with you! ”
He laughs. He actually laughs. My little anger bubble pops and I reach for him pinching his side.
“Ow!” He jumps back, smiling devilishly. “You want to play games, Sammy?”
I shake my head no, but it's already too late.
Jameson tackles me onto the couch, pinning my body underneath his, stretching my arms above our heads, and holding my hands down with his own.
I twist and roll my body, but it's no use trying to dislodge him.
I'm breathing heavily and he smiles down at me, enjoying the way my body rocks against his.
His head dips down, his lips running along the line of my throat.
“You feel so good, Sam.”
Scoffing, I try to wiggle my hands free, eventually giving up with a huff. “This is a big deal, Jameson. I’m trying to talk about this seriously. I’m mad again.”
“You aren’t mad, Sam. Think about what you just said to me.
You don’t have a real lease or bills. I’ve been taking care of everything, not your aunt or your scholarship.
The furniture and bedding are easy enough to switch out if you really like yours more than mine.
I don’t give a fuck what table we eat dinner at as long as it’s all three of us here every night eating family dinner on it.
” He kisses along my jaw, and I hate that I’m melting in his hold.
“And, I do know you’re going to get drafted in the PWHL.
You’re too talented, not to. When that time comes, we’ll figure it out. ”
“This is a lot, Jameson.” I sigh. I’m becoming emotional again and I do not want to cry right now. “We just got back together. This is really sudden. You didn’t ask; we didn’t talk about it.”
One of his hands comes down to cradle my face, his thumb tracing over my bottom lip.
“This isn’t sudden, Sam. We have been inevitable since we were kids.
We already lost a couple of years together due to my stupidity and your fears.
I won’t lose any more moments like this.
I love you. You and Dylan belong here with me. ”
He leans down and kisses me, his body curling around mine, like he really is trying to keep me from escaping. “Now. Our little girl is going to be here in just a few minutes. Let’s get some of her stuff put into her room.”
He stands and helps me off the couch. My brain is still wrestling with if this is a good idea.
I’m torn between my heart that is willing and ready to jump in and my mind that is screaming how fast this is.
I’m still mentally working through the revelations of the past few days on top of Jameson’s secret racing career.
Somewhere in a dark part of my subconscious, I can hear my mom’s voice warning me that Jameson is dangerous, that his infatuation with me is unhealthy.
Just like she did in high school when we first started dating.
She never understood why we always had to be together, or how he would constantly be around me.
My mother called our love wild and toxic.
I hate that I’m allowing these thoughts, her opinion, to creep in.
Jameson gets two boxes into her room and unpacked with my help before the doorbell rings.
My first thought should be to go with him, to try to get out, to maybe convince Johnny that his brother has lost his marbles; yet, my feet stay where they’re at.
My body doesn’t react. My lips stay closed.
The next thing I know Dylan is bolting into her room, her little arms circle my legs as she hugs me tight.
This time tears spring to my eyes for an entirely different reason.
I’ve missed my girl, I’ve missed her sunny smile, her laughter and chatter.
Kneeling on the ground, I scoop her into my arms, hugging her while she tells me all about her adventures at Aunty Riley and Uncle Reign’s and Uncle Johnny’s house. The entire time she talks, we put her stuff from my house into her room at Jameson’s house.
“Knock, knock, pretty girls,” he says from the doorway. “Dinner is ready.”
My eyes blink and I look at my phone. Sure enough, Dylan and I have been in here for almost half an hour.
Glancing at Jameson, I can tell he already knows what I’m thinking.
I didn’t escape and I unpacked Dylan’s things.
I should be mad, I should be feeling anything except for breathless because he has the audacity to look hot leaning against the doorframe, with his arm raised above his head and his abs on display.
I want to blame my mental meltdown on that alone, but it’s the warm way he watches Dylan and the hope in his eyes that completely does me in. I’m ruined.
Dylan follows her daddy out of the room and to the kitchen.
It's his turn now to hear the same stories that I did a few minutes ago. Trailing behind them, I start to realize this could be my life. This isn’t some symptom of Stockholm Syndrome.
Heat rises up my neck, and my heartbeat quickens.
I like this. No, I love this sense of family, of Jameson taking care of us.
I always wanted this with him, dreamed of it even as a teenager.
I watch while he dishes up Dylan’s plate with food and then does the same for me, the veins in his arms tensing with every task.
He sits next to me, his eyes catching mine, and he winks.
I want to combust on the spot. An hour ago, I was ready to raise hell.
Now I’m having a visceral reaction to just sitting next to him while he feeds me.
After dinner, we do the dishes together and fall onto the couch with Dylan between us. The night is peaceful, perfect, and something I’ve always dreamed about. When it's time for bed, I, once again, let him pull me close, ready to sleep wrapped in his arms.
“Jameson,” I say his name quietly, his answer a soft grunt in my ear. “You can’t do anything like this ever again. I don’t want any more secrets between us.”
Silence fills the air as a heartbeat passes between us. His arm squeezes me gently. “Okay.”
“Is there anything else I need to know?” My voice shakes, terrified to ask and yet scared to know the answer.
He leans in, pressing hip lips to the back of my head. “Nothing else, Sammy. I promise.”
Exhaling slowly, I feel my body start to relax more into his hold.
If this is the worst of everything, I need to find a way past it.
In the future, I won’t stand for any more lies or omitted truths.
Jameson is promising he won’t make the same mistake twice; I just don’t know if I can believe him.
I don’t know if we’ll ever get back to my blind faith in him before everything came to light.
And if I can’t, will we really be able to move on?
Will things be okay for us in the future if I can’t?
A headache pulses behind my eyelids, the stress of the past few days finally catching up to me.
My eyes close, seeking the deep nothingness sleep can offer me tonight.
Right before I slip away, his voice tugs me back.
“You’re my everything, Sam. Love is a limitation on what I feel for you.”