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“He said he wants to be involved.”
“He’s married.”
“He’s not.” His tone is harsher and more abrupt. “He’s divorced.”
We’re silent for a moment, lost in thought. I recall how Jackson began this conversation, by telling me he wanted to be together,no matter what,and now the bite in his tone…
“Wait. Are you worried I want him?”
“Yeah,” he says, heavy with dejection.
“I don’t know him. It was one night. More than my worry about raising this child alone, I fear what Ethan might do.” I sniffle, unable to stop from crying. “What if he wants custody, Jax? What if he decides to take him from me?”
“I’ll never let that happen, and Ethan won’t do anything irrational. He’s…a good guy.” It sounds as if Jackson is gritting his teeth when he says that last bit.
I snort through the tears. “Did that hurt you to say?”
“Fucking awful. I almost choked.”
We both laugh, lightening the mood.
“I hate being away from you already,” he mutters and sighs. “Ethan being the father changes nothing for me. I want you and the baby in my life. I’m not pressuring you, but I don’t want to lose you.”
My head is a jumbled mess, but one thing stands out. “I can’t believe you’re calm right now. You’re keeping me from falling apart.”
This is undoubtedly difficult for Jackson. Ethan is hiscoach.He’ll have to see him almost daily, and the fact that he’s not losing his shit is a testament to how much he has changed.
His voice deepens. “I’ve wanted you back, but I needed to sort myself out first. Kyle’s no longer breathing down my neck, and I owe Ethan for that. He’s, uh, the person who helped me get clean.”
“Wow, that’s… ” I falter, my mind blown. “I don’t wanna screw things up between you two.”
“You won’t. He’ll get over it.” There’s that hint of jealousy.
“Jax,” I scold and dry my tears with the back of my hand.
“What, babe? He already knows about us.”
“About what?” My tone elevates.
“Pretty much everything.”
Again, I’m speechless. Jax rarely confides in anyone, me included.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, thankfully changing the subject.
I crisscross my legs on the couch, relaxing into the cushion. “I’m fantastic. It’s hard not to be. This place is truly amazing. I wish I could stay forever.”
“That’s interesting.”
“What?”
“You can. Stay forever.”
“Pardon?”
“I own that penthouse. When I said I was meeting a realtor, it was to finalize the contract.”
“You own this penthouse? The one I’m in right now?” I don’t know why I’m whispering. I’m astonished, I guess.