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His gaze drifts toward the bathroom. “I’m going to petition to transfer the conservatorship to you and add your name to my accounts. Whatever is necessary.”
Why does he sound defeated? “Jax?—”
“Convince her to stay home. She’ll listen to you. She doesn’t trust me, but she’ll trust you to care for her. Make sure she and the baby have everything.” His eyes well up, and he drops his head.
I sit up straighter in the leather armchair. “Shut the fuck up. You’re not going anywhere.”
He faces the ceiling and blows out a long exhale. “I don’t know what’ll come of this.”
“We’ll work it out,” I assure him.
“This,” he circles his hand, gesturing to the three of us, “is temporary. If I’m not in prison or dead, the team will likely trade me once the season ends. If not, they’ll let me go next year, and a few years down the line, they might release you too, because of all the shit I’ve done. What then?”
I won’t accept that.The thought is instantaneous.
When did I go from desperately wanting a Stanley Cup to desiring a family? When didthisbecome my priority?
“Pull yourself together and get back on the ice. Play with the same passion you did in your rookie year. Management wants you to sell tickets, to dazzle the media and fans. They don’t care how you do it, as long as the team makes money. Fuck Kyle. Fuck what people will think. Play hard and win.” I suck in a deep breath. “And if we end up separated, I’ll be the biggest fan in your box, right there beside Aurora. Someone has to manage you, and I already spend most of my time doing so anyhow.”
Are my eyes burning? No, they are not.
I expect a wave of regret or panic to hit me, but it doesn’t come—instead, there’s a sense of conviction. A weight lifts from my shoulders, and I feel…unburdened. Everything I said feels undeniably right.
Jackson blinks his tears away. I’ve never seen him at a loss for words. “Why? Why would you do that? You love coaching.”
I chuckle lightheartedly at his dumbfounded expression. “Because I want Aurora—all of her—and she’s not whole without you, and because you haveit. You’re naturally talented. Every part of you is made for the ice. You just need a team behind you.”
“Wow,” he breathes, taken aback. “Are you always like this, a coach? Is thatyournatural talent?”
I can’t help the shit-eating grin that stretches across my face. He really is rubbing off on me. “No, my natural talent got your girlfriend pregnant.” I grin wider. “You’re welcome.”
He returns my smile, the glimmer of light rekindling in his eyes. “And there it is—the reason I hate you. You’re such a fucking asshole.”
We both laugh, neither of us able to control it.
37
JACKSON
“Someone’s exhausted.”Ethan carries Aurora into my bedroom, her legs around his waist and arms encircling his neck.
He’s smiling, but given Aurora’s red-rimmed eyes, she has been crying in the shower, and he’s trying to cheer her up. My gut clenches, a physical recoil, because I know I’m the source of her pain.
He drops her in the center of the bed with a bounce, making her giggle. His hands land on each side of her waist, and with one knee on the mattress, he bends down and kisses her.
Shirtless, sitting at the bedside, I watch the scene unfold with a sly smile.I wonder when I should tell him…
The warm fingers palpitating my icy ribs abruptly still, and I peer down to see Doc staring at Coach in utter shock.
Ethan is in a loose pair of gray sweatpants and a team T-shirt, his dark hair tousled, climbing into my bed to wreck my girlfriend—ourgirlfriend.
Although Doc doesn’t know that.
He does now, and the look on his face is absolutely priceless.
My roar of hilarity grabs Ethan’s attention. “Asshole, did you forget we have company?” I ask between gasping for breath and wincing in pain from my body shaking.
Coming from my bathroom, on the opposite side of the room, he likely couldn’t see Doc crouched, assessing my left side.