Chapter Thirty-One
Thirty-One
Abby
I have to admit, I feel a little silly for all the fuss everyone was making over me.
Especially since I didn’t think to call Ian and tell him what happened, instead throwing myself into the first cab that came by while using my own sleeve to stanch the bleeding from my arm. I guess it’s safe to say I panicked.
What’s even more surprising, though, is how fast Jack made it to the hospital, and how distraught he seemed when he saw me sitting there on the bed.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so scared.
Not about his arm, not about hockey—none of it.
He kept glancing at me every so often from the driver’s seat of his car on the way back to the apartment, almost as if he was checking to make sure I was actually there. It was really…sweet, actually.
He’s still fussing over me as he helps me through the front door, gingerly lifting my bandaged arm with his good arm. It almost makes me laugh at the pair we make.
“Be careful,” he says. “Don’t hit it on the doorframe.”
“I’m really fine,” I assure him. “That ibuprofen they gave me was as big as my head.”
“Still,” he tuts. “I just want to make sure.” He frowns then. “Actually…”
In the blink of an eye, I’m yelping as he lifts me off my feet, pulling me into his arms bridal-style while he carries me inside.
“Jack! Your arm!”
“Listen, a part of me thought I could have lost you today,” he tells me. “Let me have this.”
Something in my chest softens at his tone, and I hear the lingering worry there. “I’m really okay.”
“I don’t mean just this,” he says, taking me to the couch and gently setting me down on the cushions. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again after yesterday. And then today I got that call, and I just…” He shakes his head. “I’ve never been so scared.”
“I was always going to come back,” I assure him. “I’m sorry I walked out on you in the first place.”
“I told you. I deserved it.”
“Maybe we both did and said things we didn’t mean,” I try.
He carefully settles next to me, winding his arms around my waist and pulling me against him as he buries his nose in my hair. “I was such an ass.”
“You were,” I agree, “but I was a coward. I knew you didn’t mean the things you said. I could have fought a little harder. I was so afraid that maybe there was some truth to what you said. That maybe I wasn’t enough for you.”
“You are enough,” he breathes against my temple. “You’re everything.”
“Jack, I need you to know that I think I—”
“No. Shut up.”
I blanch, pulling away to blink up at him. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”
“I absolutely did,” he says with a stern look. “Because if you think you’re going to sit here and tell me that you love me before I get a chance to tell you that I am fucking madly in love with you then you have another thing coming.”
“I can’t believe you just told me you loved me after telling me to shut up.”
“I had to be the one to say it first. I’ve been trying to tell you for days.”
“And what if that wasn’t what I was going to say to you?”
It’s his turn to blink back at me, his mouth falling open. “It wasn’t? Wait. Does that mean you don’t?” He presses his lips together. “Whatever. I still do. I can wait for you to catch up. It’s fine if you—”
I touch a finger to his lips, my mouth curving into a smile. “Jack. I’m kidding. I love you too.”
“That was horrible.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes you need a taste of your own medicine.”
“If you weren’t injured right now, I would have a lot to say about this.”
“A busted arm never stopped you, did it?”
He glances down at my bandaged forearm. “I guess we kind of match now.”
“It’s very cute of us.”
“The cutest.”
I beam up at him as I wind my good arm around his neck, pulling his mouth down to mine. He makes a soft sound when our lips meet, and I feel his hand curve around my hip, his fingers dipping under the hem of my ruined sweater to tease the soft skin there.
“Fuck, Abby,” he breathes. “I really thought I was going to lose you.”
“I really thought I might have let you there for a second.”
“You have to know everything I said yesterday was bullshit. I was just so scared. I was hurting and panicking and I took everything out on you. Can you forgive me?”
“If you can forgive me for leaving you when you needed me,” I tell him.
“We can call it even,” he answers with a smile.
I glance down shyly then, clearing my throat. “I also told my dad not to contact me anymore today.”
“What?” His brows shoot up. “When?”
“Just before the bike clipped me. That’s probably why I wasn’t paying attention.”
“And how did that go?”
“About as well as you’d expect,” I tell him. “He had a lot of shit to say, but I hung up on him. I told him I was blocking his number and that I would get a restraining order if he contacted me again.”
“Abby,” Jack sighs, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m so proud of you.”
“It took me long enough,” I grumble.
Jack shakes his head when he pulls away. “It doesn’t matter how long it took you. You did it. That’s all that matters. You did it all on your own.”
“I guess I did,” I admit quietly. “But I couldn’t have done it if I didn’t have you. Not really.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he says.
“You didn’t have to. Just knowing I had something better out there waiting for me gave me the courage to finally say goodbye to that part of my life. You made me realize that maybe I am worth more than what I’ve been allowing myself to have.”
“You’re worth everything,” he assures me. “You deserve every good thing this life has to offer. I just hope that I can be a part of that.”
“I really want you to be,” I tell him softly.
He grins at me—a slow, lazy sort of smile that radiates warmth and happiness and all the good things I’m starting to think I deserve. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He pulls me in again to slant his mouth across mine, his tongue touching my lower lip, seeking entry.
I let my lips part until it slides past to tangle with mine, humming softly into his mouth as I try to press my body closer, climbing into his lap, needing to be as close as I possibly can be after everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.
“It’s killing me not to touch you right now,” he mumbles against my lips.
I nip at his. “Who says you can’t touch me?”
“You’re hurt.”
“So are you.”
“Seems like that would be all the more reason to take it easy.”
I arch a brow at him. “And who says we can’t take it easy?”
“Really?”
I grind my hips against his, needing the closeness of him, needing to feel his skin against mine, knowing that he wants me, that he loves me.
I can already feel him stiffening between my legs, his thighs trapped between mine.
I grin down at him as I zipper my body to his, letting my lips graze his cheek, his jaw, lingering at his throat as I press fevered kisses there.
“Show me how much you love me,” I murmur.
His head falls back as I kiss along his neck. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“There’s literal blood on your top.”
“Then take it off me,” I tell him.
I feel his fingers at the hem of my sweater, and then he’s ever so gently easing it up and over my head, careful to maneuver my injured arm through the torn sleeve before he tosses the entire thing onto the floor behind us.
“God, Abby,” he hums, leaning in to press his lips to my breasts, which spill over my bra. “You’re too fucking pretty.” He teases the swell with his tongue, looking up to meet my eyes. “All of you is.”
I take in the sight of his dark eyes, which are staring up at me with an intensity that makes me shiver, and run my fingers through his soft brown hair before tugging it gently to pull his head back so I can lean in and kiss him again.
His hands find my hips to squeeze, rocking me against his growing erection as his tongue slides through my mouth.
I have to maneuver to grab at his T-shirt with my non-injured arm, but he leans forward to accommodate me when I start to tug it off him, revealing the hard plane of his sculpted chest, which I can’t help but run my fingers over, relishing in his firm skin.
“You’re pretty too,” I tell him.
My fingers slide down to the button of his jeans, popping it open deftly and teasing the zipper down until I can reach inside to palm his hard cock.
He groans at the contact, his head falling back against the couch as his lips part, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow before he looks back at me dazedly.
“Need you naked,” he murmurs, his hands tugging at my jeans.
I help him unbutton them just before he rolls them down my legs, the pair of us shuffling on the couch to try to rid me of them as he lifts his hips to do the same. My underwear is already damp, and I suck in a breath when he slides his hand between my legs to confirm this.
“Mm, already wet for me,” he practically purrs. “You want this cock, baby?”
I shudder at the question. I’ll never admit that the nickname sort of does it for me, especially when we’re like this. I nod back at him instead, lifting up on my knees when he helps roll my underwear down my legs to leave me naked from the waist down.
I’m already shoving at his boxer briefs to try to free him, but suddenly his hands are on my wrists to pull them away, bringing one palm to his mouth to press a kiss there. “Don’t have condoms in here.”
“Do we need one?”
His eyes widen. “What?”
“I just mean…I’m on birth control, and my last panel was negative, so…”
“Mine too,” he breathes.
“So…I mean, if you wanted—”
“If you think there’s any chance that I don’t want to fuck you raw, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Ha, coming.”
He barks out a laugh. “Abby Thompson. I’m rubbing off on you.”
“I’d like you to be,” I hum, reaching again for his underwear and yanking them down so his cock springs free.
If I tilt my hips, I can feel the hard length of him sliding between my wet folds, the fat head teasing my clit in the most delicious way, one that has me gasping for breath.
“That’s it,” he coos. “Take what you need, baby.”
“I need you,” I whine.