Page 60 of A Little Crush (The Little Things #6)

JAXON

“ Y ou did amazing!” Rory gushes as soon as we reach my office.

After the win, the team showered, I gave a quick speech, then we went to the conference area to answer reporters and give my two cents on the game.

By all counts, I should be exhausted. But finding Rory in my office waiting to congratulate me is enough to renew my energy.

“Thanks.” I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close.

“Um, excuse me, sir.” Her body goes rigid. Peeking over her shoulder at the glass windows, she challenges, “You sure this is a good idea?”

Despite the closed blinds, I understand where she’s coming from, but I’m too elated by the win to give a shit. Honestly, even without the W, part of me thinks I still wouldn’t give a shit. The more time I spend with Rory, the quieter my reservations become.

“Anyone who’s still in the building knows to leave me alone when my office door is closed.” I lean in and peck her lips. “We’re good. ”

Relaxing into my hold, she drags her hands along my pecs before wrapping them around my neck. “Well, if that’s the case.” Her chin lifts and she rises onto her tiptoes, closing a bit of the gap between us before I do the rest of the work and meet her halfway, kissing her gently.

Fuck, I missed her. I saw her before the game and stole a few glances up to the box where she was watching me during it. She even slept in my bed last night, but none of these facts eased the weight of her absence. How the hell did I survive the past ten years or so?

Dragging my tongue along the seam of her lips, I kiss her deeper, riding the high of today’s win as my cock hardens against her stomach.

I wasn’t lying before. The locker room’s empty, and anyone still in the facility knows not to bother me when my office door is closed.

I slide my hands lower, cupping her ass and pulling her into me. Maybe we could?—

My phone buzzes on the desk behind us.

Ignoring it, I slip my hands beneath the hem of her oversized Lions jersey, dragging my fingers along her spine.

The phone buzzes again.

She tears her mouth from mine. “You gonna answer it?”

“I’ll call them back later.” My hands trail down to her ass again as I dive in for another kiss.

Brushing her tongue against mine, she sucks me deeper, and the feeling shoots straight to my cock.

Apparently, we’re on the same page. Thank fuck.

I grab the backs of her thighs and lift her up, setting her on the desk.

“Mmm,” she hums. Threading her fingers through my hair, she kisses me harder, opening her mouth and letting me steal another taste of her.

My phone buzzes again, and she pulls away, arching her brow.

With a groan, I rest my forehead against her shoulder, blindly reach around her back, and find my vibrating cell on the edge of my desk. When I read the name shining back at me, I groan all over again. “It’s Iris.”

“Does she usually call when she has Poppy?”

“Sometimes.”

“Answer it,” Rory pushes.

And even though I don’t love Iris cock blocking me, the fact that Rory understands the position I’m in and why I’ll always answer my ex’s calls even if it kills me only makes me fall for her more. I lean in for one more kiss, then slide my thumb across my screen.

Bringing it to my ear, I mutter, “Hey, Iris.”

“Oh, Jax,” she cries.

My spine turns into a steel rod. “What’s going on? Is Poppy all right?”

“Poppy’s fine.” She sniffs, and my body sags.

“Fuck, Iris. Don’t do that to me?—”

“I’m so sorry, Jaxon. I’m so, so sorry.”

“What?” I shift my cell to my opposite ear. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because…because I screwed up.”

I can feel Rory’s gaze on the side of my face, so I lift my forefinger, silently requesting she give me a minute. Her nod is immediate, and I say into my cell, “Iris, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay.” She hiccups.

“What happened?”

“He cheated on me.” Another sob echoes through my cell. “He cheated on me, Jaxon. Can you believe it?”

He. As in, Chris. Chris cheated on her. The same guy she cheated on me with.

And now she’s calling me to chat about it?

The irony isn’t lost on me. I could rub her nose in it.

Remind her how karma’s a bitch, and what goes around, comes around and all that.

But instead of feeling any kind of humor or elation at the situation, all I feel is pity.

With a sigh, I mutter, “I’m really sorry to hear that, Iris. ”

She sniffs again. “Thank you.”

Silence follows, and I glance at Rory, mouthing, sorry.

“I saw the game,” Iris adds. “You did great, baby.”

My brows tug downward.

Baby? Why the fuck is she calling me baby?

“Uh, thanks?” I clear my throat. “You’re sure Poppy’s okay?”

“Yes, Poppy’s fine. She’s sucking on the little stuffed bunny you got her. That was really sweet of you, by the way.”

Sweet? Since when am I sweet?

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I grumble, “I’m glad she likes it. I’ll, uh, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Wait.”

My head falls forward, but I dig deep, searching for patience.

Not because she deserves it, but because she’s the mother of my baby, and my life is a hell of a lot easier when I’m not on her shit list, which apparently I’m not anymore?

Because she caught Chris cheating on her? Seriously, the woman is delusional.

“What is it, Iris?”

“Do you ever…do you ever think about what our life would be like if I hadn’t…” She lets out a long breath. “If I hadn't slept with Chris?”

“Iris, I gotta go-—”

“You’re not gonna answer me?”

“Can we talk about this later?” I snap. Not that I want to. Ever. But if it’ll get me off this call, I’ll say whatever she wants to hear.

“Sure, sure. Whatever you…whatever you need, baby.”

There it is again. Baby .

I scrub my hand over my face, suddenly exhausted. “I’ll talk to you later.” Ending the call, I drop my cell back onto my desk. “Sorry about that.”

“What’d she say?” Rory asks. Her voice is quiet.

Hell, it’s nothing but a whisper. And even though I can tell she’s trying to act nonchalant and shit, she’s a terrible actress.

Clearly, she overheard the conversation.

And clearly, she wants to talk about it.

Maybe to see if I’m telling the truth. Maybe to see if I’m actually considering going back. Then again, I’m not sure it matters.

Rubbing my hands along her thighs, I answer, “She told me Chris cheated on her.”

Her lips part, though I don’t know if her surprise is from my response or my candor. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She nods slowly but doesn’t say anything else. She wants to, though. I can see it. Taste it. Feel it. Her reservations and unease. I guess I don’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, I’d be on edge, too.

Cupping her face, I force her to look at me. “I don’t love Iris anymore.”

“I know, but…”

“But what about Poppy?” I finish for her. “Poppy’s better off with her parents not living together. Trust me.”

“You say that like it’s a fact.”

“It is a fact.”

“Yeah, but?—”

“No buts,” I argue.

“Let me finish.”

My jaw locks, but I keep my mouth shut, and drop my hands, slipping more between her thighs as she stays seated on my desk. Instead of touching me back, she leans back on her hands, adding some space between us and killing me in the process. Even then, she doesn’t speak.

“You said to let you finish,” I gently push.

Avoiding my gaze, she grumbles, “My selfishness is keeping me from saying it. ”

With a low laugh, I reach up and grab her face again. “I want you, Rory Buchanan. You and only you.”

“And Poppy?”

“Okay, I want my Poppy, too, but choosing you doesn’t impact my relationship with my daughter.”

Whatever concern I’d been hoping to erase remains present. “Isn’t that a little debatable in this circumstance?”

I lift a shoulder. “Maybe, if we’re talking about technicalities. But I look at it this way. She can have a miserable father one hundred percent of the time, or a happy father and happy mother fifty percent of the time.”

“But Iris isn’t happy,” Rory argues. “Which she just informed you of on the phone.”

“Iris is Iris,” I remind her. “I give her a week before she’s right back to where she was yesterday, convinced I’m a worthless piece of shit who can’t do anything right.”

“Yeah, but what if?—”

“You know you’re trying to do the same thing my mom did when she found out about me, right?

” I ask. “My birth mom? Eleanor? She approached my dad after telling him about my existence. Then, my mom, Ashlyn, who was my dad’s girlfriend at the time, tried to play the martyr.

Tried to sacrifice her happiness for the well-being of my dad and me.

But what she didn't understand, or what took her a while to understand,” I clarify, “is that she was actually sacrificing my dad’s happiness, too, and mine.

Because a life without one of the women who raised me, someone I call Mom , it’s…

” I hesitate, taking a second to consider what my childhood would’ve looked like without Ashlyn in the picture, and a burn hits my eyes.

“Damn, Rore. I can’t even imagine how much I would’ve missed out on without her.

I wouldn’t have Griff or Dylan. I wouldn’t have been able to travel to London with my mom.

I wouldn’t have had you.” The realization hits harder than I ex pect, and I lean in, kissing her softly.

“If my dad had caved to either of my moms’ requests.

If he had chosen to break it off with Ashlyn and marry Eleanor, I wouldn’t have had you.

Not when you were born. And not now.” I kiss her again.

“So, don’t. Okay? Don’t question my feelings or my decision.

If you decide you don’t want to be with me, then do it for you.

Don’t do it for anyone else, all right?”

I start to drop my hands from the sides of her face, but she reaches up, grasping my wrists and keeping me in place.

“I do,” she whispers. “I do want to be with you.”