Chapter 39
Ethan
“I’d own part of you,” I correct. “Thirty-three percent of the Stars is mine. Rossi Investments owns the rest—privately.” Turns out, I wasn’t drafted to the team by accident. The Rossi family has held majority ownership in the organization for two generations. Now, we own it all.
“Same thing,” Jackson mutters as he reads the documents. “You’ll be the GM?”
“If you agree. If not, we rip up the contracts and forget about it.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance despite the anxiety coursing through my veins.
I won’t be general manager without Jax. That requires staying in New York.
The Rossi crew knew this, which is why Rocco showed up in LA with two offers in hand.
“The transfer of ownership is almost finalized, though. I won’t be your coach much longer. ”
Aurora peers up at me, brows pinched. “You’re leaving the Huskies?”
I nod. “They’ll be letting me go.”
She glances between the two of us. “Why?”
It’s Jax who answers. “Because he can’t own one team and coach for another. It’s a conflict of interest. He’ll have to choose, and he’s choosing to be in New York.”
“Not without you.” I tighten my hold on Aurora while locking eyes with Jackson. “I’ll divide my time if that’s what you want.”
“No. Please, Jax,” our girl pleads, hands steepled at her mouth. “We could all be together.”
He draws a deep breath, and the kitchen falls silent, save for the scrape of the spatula and Danny’s lip-smacking.
“You’re willing to give up coaching and work for your family?” Jackson’s voice is quiet, controlled. “For me? For us?”
He was back in LA for only a few hours before he wanted to end his life.
Lucas was jumped and locked in a cell, tortured.
If it were Aurora or Jax in that hospital bed, I’d die—after I killed someone.
Many someones. I won’t risk them again, and I never want to feel as helpless as I did when Jackson was crying in my arms or when Aurora was under that desk.
“I’d do anything for the two of you—to ensure your safety, your happiness.
” I swallow the puck-sized lump in my throat.
“I want to be there for it all—the pregnancy, the birth, watching you with our baby.” I thrust a hand toward the man flipping pancakes and pretending not to listen, though I know he hears every word.
“Reece can’t live without his partner, and you know the twins won’t let Lucas return to LA.
” I shoot for lighthearted and blink away the tears.
“What happens if I don’t fit in with the team?” Jax clenches his jaw. He’s going to give himself a headache if he doesn’t stop. “What happens when they don’t want me anymore?”
“I’ll want you,” I say without hesitation, because I know that’s what he’s asking. Will I be disappointed? Will I still want him? “Always.”
He has the freedom to choose—whether it’s playing for a different team, not playing, dabbling in real estate, or staying home and helping raise our children. He’s not worried about his career or finances. He’s worried about me. Us.
His expression hardens and his eyes narrow. It’s not the reaction I was expecting, and my stomach churns.
“I’ll do it under one condition.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I want more than Carmichael. That prick doesn’t deserve to be paid higher than me.”
My shoulders relax, and I let out a breathy laugh. “I’m working with a strict budget. We’re trading two players for you.”
“Who?”
“McArdie and Botterill.”
He tilts his head, and his scowl deepens. “I’m worth at least three.”
I jut my chin. “Prove it.”
“Fine. Add Grant and Kill, and we have a deal.”
“Don’t push it,” I warn, but my heart is soaring. This is happening. We’re going to be together, safe, in New York. “Maybe next year.”
Fuck, Reece is right. I’m a sucker for this kid.
“Now you’re my boss and my boyfriend?” A slow, devilish smile creeps across Jackson’s face. “Will you have an office?”
God help me and my office staff. “Soundproof, so I can choke you.”
He lowers his tone. “Pretty sure being the owner and fucking a player is way worse than being the coach and doing the same.”
I lean in and cock a brow. “Yeah? Who’s gonna stop me?” Not like they can fire me.
He rounds the island and squeezes himself between my legs. Jax is on one thigh, Aurora on the other—except they’re standing, or we’d break this stool.
His arm comes around my shoulders, and he gives me those puppy-dog eyes. “I’m sorry I was a dick to you.”
“You didn’t scream and destroy shit. I’m proud of you.” I press my lips to his.
“Ew! Kissin’!” Danny shrieks from his perch on the counter. “Icky!”
Laughter ripples through the kitchen, and the knot in my stomach finally unravels. “Sign the contract, Jax.” I sneak in another kiss. “Let’s make this official.”
“But New York is so cold.” He pouts dramatically. “I’m a Cali boy. I’m not meant for freezing weather.”
“A brat, that’s what you are. I’ll buy you a fucking jacket…and get a tattoo today.” I grumble the last part and glare into his teasing green eyes. He’s got me by the balls and he knows it.
“Reece James!” interrupts a sharp Southern voice.
Jax and I jolt apart, heads snapping to the doorway.
Harper stands with her hands on her hips, her hair in a messy bun. She marches to her son, who has chocolate smeared across his cheeks and covering his fingers and pajamas.
“I swear to God, if he crashes out today after being hyped up on all this sugar, you’re dealing with him.” She surveys the chocolate disaster and shakes her head. “And you’re giving him a bath.”
Reece points the spatula in our direction. “Don’t blame me! This was Jackson.”
“Traitor,” Jax hisses. “You fed him. I would’ve done a much better job.”
“I only have one arm!” Reece fires back.
“Ugh, here we go again,” my boyfriend groans. “Always using your injury to get attention and sympathy. You were shot. We get it. Jesus.”