Page 38
Story: Triple Power Play 2
“The fuck we didn’t,” he says with a tight jaw and balled fists. “And if the words weren’t explicitly stated, they were strongly implied. This has never been casual. I didn’t cheat on you. Iwouldn’tcheat on you.”
I tilt my head. “What if the roles were reversed? What if I were pregnant withyourbaby, and it was Ethan getting drunk, high, and photographed with other women? Would you want that near your child?”
Rarely is Jackson speechless, but he stands before me, lips parted as I exit the bathroom.
On my way out of my room, I snag my hoodie and throw it on. This old building uses radiators and fireplaces; there’s no central air. It takes time for the fireplace to heat the open space, and I don’t like the smell of the radiator.
I chose a prepared meal from the fridge, only to have Jackson snatch it away.
“Sit. I ordered groceries. At least let me take care of you.”
He sets down packages of cheese, fruits, and vegetables on the white granite island, and I perch on a barstool, facing him. In faded denim and a rumpled T-shirt, he moves with quiet efficiency. He’s always loved to cook, and it reminds me of old times.
A mask of grim concentration settles on his face, and he drops the knife on the cutting board, abandoning my favorite cheese.
He places his palms on the island and glowers at me. “That’s not a valid argument. Ethan wouldn’t be in the picture if you were pregnant by me.” He picks up the blade, slaughtering my poor pepper jack with far too much aggression. “I’d murder anyone who came between us,” he says under his breath.
I make a mental note not to discuss other men while Jackson wields a knife.
He places sliced cheese on a plate, and I pop a piece in my mouth.
When I think the conversation is over, he peers up with glassy eyes. “You’d have nothing to worry about. I’d never leave your side. We’d be staying wherever you wanted until I got my trust fund and we bought a house. I’d play out my contract and be done.”
He’s given this some honest thought.
“That’s…a lot to unpack.” I mull everything over while picking at the food. “You’d quit playing?”
“If you wouldn’t travel with me,” he says with certainty. “I won’t leave you to care for an infant alone, and I can’t picture myself only seeing my child a few months out of the year. I’d go nuts.”
Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I can’t help but think—how ironic?
“You’d give up hockey for a baby but won’t give up partying for our relationship? You realize you require one before the other?”
“I gave up partying before the season.”
I scoff. “A dozen photos say differently.”
“Are you ready for me to explain?”
I hesitate.“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
20
AURORA
Jackson comes around the island,sits on the barstool beside me, and hands me his phone. “These are texts I received from Kyle after I relapsed.”
I read through them, not fully understanding. I expected Kyle to be involved; he always is, but not until they discuss the baby do I begin to grasp the gravity of the situation.
You manipulated me into meeting with you, knowing I’d relapse. Threw some drugs and half-naked women at me and took pictures to fuck my career and relationship, all to avoid me paying child support?
“Kyle took the pictures of you?” I ask, astonished.
Jax nods. “And sold them.”
My head spins. I place the phone on the counter and my palm to my queasy stomach. “But I’m not seeking child support. Nor would I, especially from you.”
“I know, but he isn’t aware of that.” He covers my hand with his and cradles my baby bump. “Remember the plan to portray me as the father?”
I tilt my head. “What if the roles were reversed? What if I were pregnant withyourbaby, and it was Ethan getting drunk, high, and photographed with other women? Would you want that near your child?”
Rarely is Jackson speechless, but he stands before me, lips parted as I exit the bathroom.
On my way out of my room, I snag my hoodie and throw it on. This old building uses radiators and fireplaces; there’s no central air. It takes time for the fireplace to heat the open space, and I don’t like the smell of the radiator.
I chose a prepared meal from the fridge, only to have Jackson snatch it away.
“Sit. I ordered groceries. At least let me take care of you.”
He sets down packages of cheese, fruits, and vegetables on the white granite island, and I perch on a barstool, facing him. In faded denim and a rumpled T-shirt, he moves with quiet efficiency. He’s always loved to cook, and it reminds me of old times.
A mask of grim concentration settles on his face, and he drops the knife on the cutting board, abandoning my favorite cheese.
He places his palms on the island and glowers at me. “That’s not a valid argument. Ethan wouldn’t be in the picture if you were pregnant by me.” He picks up the blade, slaughtering my poor pepper jack with far too much aggression. “I’d murder anyone who came between us,” he says under his breath.
I make a mental note not to discuss other men while Jackson wields a knife.
He places sliced cheese on a plate, and I pop a piece in my mouth.
When I think the conversation is over, he peers up with glassy eyes. “You’d have nothing to worry about. I’d never leave your side. We’d be staying wherever you wanted until I got my trust fund and we bought a house. I’d play out my contract and be done.”
He’s given this some honest thought.
“That’s…a lot to unpack.” I mull everything over while picking at the food. “You’d quit playing?”
“If you wouldn’t travel with me,” he says with certainty. “I won’t leave you to care for an infant alone, and I can’t picture myself only seeing my child a few months out of the year. I’d go nuts.”
Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I can’t help but think—how ironic?
“You’d give up hockey for a baby but won’t give up partying for our relationship? You realize you require one before the other?”
“I gave up partying before the season.”
I scoff. “A dozen photos say differently.”
“Are you ready for me to explain?”
I hesitate.“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
20
AURORA
Jackson comes around the island,sits on the barstool beside me, and hands me his phone. “These are texts I received from Kyle after I relapsed.”
I read through them, not fully understanding. I expected Kyle to be involved; he always is, but not until they discuss the baby do I begin to grasp the gravity of the situation.
You manipulated me into meeting with you, knowing I’d relapse. Threw some drugs and half-naked women at me and took pictures to fuck my career and relationship, all to avoid me paying child support?
“Kyle took the pictures of you?” I ask, astonished.
Jax nods. “And sold them.”
My head spins. I place the phone on the counter and my palm to my queasy stomach. “But I’m not seeking child support. Nor would I, especially from you.”
“I know, but he isn’t aware of that.” He covers my hand with his and cradles my baby bump. “Remember the plan to portray me as the father?”
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