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TWELVE

ARDEN

“Is this pity party open to the public, or do I need an invitation?” I ask, hovering over Jackson as he sits on the floor with his back resting against the couch. When he went to visit with the team doctor last week, they were concerned about him tearing his hamstring with the way he kept tweaking it, so they put him on the disabled list. He’s almost a week in and has at least one more to go before they’ll put him back in the lineup, pending a clean bill of health.

He scrunches his nose, looking up at me. “I told the bouncer to keep the riffraff out, but I guess they’re just letting anybody in.” He smirks and I playfully kick his arm, but he grabs my ankle, lifting it to his mouth and nipping at the skin of my lower calf. I bark a laugh, yanking out of his grip as his smile grows wider, the dimple in his cheek sinking in like it always does when he’s truly happy. It’s a welcome change from how sad he’s been, having to watch his team play without him while he sits here unable to help. I’ve been trying to lighten the mood, but I get it. I wouldn’t be very good company if I were in his shoes right now, either.

“How was practice?” he asks, patting the floor beside him in invitation. I sit, letting my head fall back onto the couch cushion behind me as I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.

“Better than it has been. I’m starting to fall into a rhythm with my hitters, which took a while, but we’re really working well together. I swear, no matter how good of a day we have, Dahlia digs until she finds something wrong so she can yell at me in front of my teammates. Today, Zara tried to stick up for me and she ended up getting chewed out, too.”

“Didn’t you guys go to Penn State together?” he asks.

I nod my head. “Yep. And she was always kind of underhandedly mean, but I was younger than her, so I stayed in my lane and did my job. Then she randomly quit one day, and since I was her backup, that was my shot.”

“Quit?” he questions. “Why?”

“No clue,” I respond. “The team was really good, but they lost a lot of graduating seniors before I got there, so it was almost like a rebuild. Everyone said it was because she knew we wouldn’t win a National Championship, although I can’t imagine ending my final college season because of that.”

“Don’t take it personally. Some people are never happy.” He picks up the remote, switching the TV to the Fury game. They’re on a five-day road trip, playing their last one in Milwaukee tonight before heading to Minneapolis for two in a row. It’s weird how much I miss Hawk. The condo feels a little emptier without him, and I find myself counting the days until he’s back home.

I wonder if he misses me too.

After our talk in the kitchen last week, I made an appointment to meet with a therapist about my anxiety. He was right. I shouldn’t do this on my own. It’ll be another ten days before I can see her, but it’s better than pretending everything is fine when I know it’s not. I need to work on my coping skills and unpack my thoughts every once in a while so they don’t eat me up inside. I’m grateful that he opened up to me the way he did because it showed me that I’m not alone, and admitting that I struggle sometimes doesn’t make me weak—in fact, now that I’ve taken the first step, I feel so much stronger.

“Here we go,” Jackson says as the game broadcast fills the eighty-five-inch screen that’s mounted on the wall in front of us. My eyes immediately find Hawk as the camera pans to third base, and butterflies take flight in my stomach at the sight of his perfectly symmetrical face. Black hair that’s faded up the sides shows beneath his teal Daytona Fury ballcap as he catches the ball in his glove, licking his lips before leisurely sending a warm-up throw back to first. I’m instantly reminded of the way they felt as needy groans passed from his mouth to mine while he held me like he didn’t want an inch of space between us. It’s been a week since we kissed, but I swear sometimes I can still taste him.

It isn’t long before my eyes grow heavy and I rest my head on Jackson’s shoulder, using my hand to cover the tired yawn I can’t hold back. He chuckles, settling further against the couch so we’re both more comfortable. Today kicked my ass, and the late start time for this game isn’t helping matters, even if it means I can stare unabashedly at Hawk without anyone knowing. But I don’t even make it through the first inning before exhaustion pulls me under and I fall asleep cuddled into Jackson’s warm body.

The muffled sound of game highlights on the TV brings me back to consciousness, and the first thing I feel is how stiff my back is. The weight of a thick, muscular arm presses into my shoulder and my eyes flutter open to find Jacks fast asleep, holding me with his head leaned back onto the cushion behind it. I pull my knees up, shifting myself in his direction to ease the pressure from the hard floor against my ass. I’m uncomfortable, but entirely too wiped out to go to my room right now—not to mention the way it feels being held by him. I shouldn’t like it this much, but I do. I always have. He may be my stepbrother, but there was a time when I saw the possibility of something completely different.

I carefully tilt my head so I can take in his face, his expression soft and carefree as shallow breaths leave his open lips. I allow myself to study him freely, admiring the flawless features and chiseled jawline that I used to secretly drool over as a teen. I’m not sure how he’s changed so much, yet still looks the same after all these years—but I’m grateful to have memories of the boy he was, and excited to make more with the man he’s become.

Dragging my gaze across his tan skin, my eyes catch on the chain around his neck when the light from the TV glimmers off it. The gold rope looks oddly familiar, and I furrow my brows as I wonder if it could possibly be what I think it is. My rational brain tells me there’s no way because it’s been so long, but I can’t help myself. I have to know.

I reach up, gently wrapping my fingers around the warm metal, doing my best not to wake him as I gingerly pull it from where it’s tucked under the collar of his shirt. As soon as the pendant comes into view, memories from the past flood my mind as if they happened just yesterday.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked, closing the sliding door to our back patio before making my way to where Jackson sat on the steps. He turned slightly, looking up at me and scooting over to make room. The cold from the wood seeped through my sweatpants as soon as I lowered myself down, and I had to suppress the full-body shiver that threatened to flow through me. Christmas in Pennsylvania was always chilly, and that year was no exception.

“I just needed some peace and quiet,” he said, looking up at the stars that twinkled above us. I huffed a laugh, because while it wasn’t the first time he’d experienced one of my dad’s over-the-top holiday get-togethers, it was the first one he couldn’t escape since he was living with us now.

The second half of the year had been a whirlwind for us, with our parents’ lightning-fast engagement, the wedding, college applications, and the amount of time we spent playing our respective sports. Jacks and I had grown apart despite the fact that we spent our nights under the same roof. I hated it. I missed my friend, but our lives were already moving in different directions. Soon, we’d only see each other on holidays and special occasions.

“Well, I’m glad I found you,” I began. “With all the commotion, I didn’t have time to give you your gift.”

His head snapped my way, his eyes going wide with surprise. “I didn’t know we were exchanging presents. I didn ? —”

“It’s fine,” I replied, waving a dismissive hand between us as I pulled the slender velvet box from the pocket of my hoodie and extended it toward him. His gaze locked onto it for a moment, guilt blanketing his expression as I shook it in invitation. “Oh my God, take it. You can buy me two birthday presents when you sign your giant MLB contract. I wear a size Mercedes C-Class, for future reference.”

“Noted,” he said with a laugh, wrapping his fingers around the box and pulling it from my hand. Slowly, he lifted the lid, a grateful smile stretching across his face as the chain came into view.

“I know it’s your high school jersey number,” I warned, motioning to the # 16 pendant hanging from the gold rope, “but I’ll replace it if you end up with a new one after you’re settled with a team.”

He looked up at me, his emerald eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Thank you, Princess. I love it.” His voice was tight with emotion, and my throat went dry as he studied my face like he’d never seen it before. He leaned in just slightly, and every part of me wished he’d close the distance and kiss me. I knew it was wrong and that he was my stepbrother, but for years, I’d wondered if he’d ever seen me as anything more than a friend. It was risky and stupid, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to feel it, if only for a second.

“You’re welcome,” I said, leaning in closer. I expected him to back away, but he didn’t. Instead, he licked his lips and turned his body toward me as my heart pounded in my chest. My stomach flipped, and I closed my eyes, feeling his breath puff against my skin as he moved in. I couldn’t believe what was about to happen. I was finally going to taste Jackson Blake.

“There you two are!” Gina’s voice rang out behind us, causing us both to jump away from each other as she stepped outside. My cheeks burned despite the frigid temperatures, and I threw up a silent prayer that she hadn’t seen us just inches away from kissing. We turned her way, and she looked at us confused for just a fraction of a moment before hitching a thumb over her shoulder. “Uncle Alex and Aunt Katie are heading out and wanted to say goodbye.”

“Okay,” Jackson rasped, standing and glancing down at me as I joined him. As much as I wanted to look at him—to see if there was any regret behind his eyes—I couldn’t. Instead, we went back inside, leaving our almost-kiss as nothing but a memory that I’d never forget.

I stare at the pendant, my heart beating like a drum as I try to figure out why he still wears it. His jersey number has been twenty-six since he started playing for the Fury, so this one doesn’t even make sense. Not to mention, he has enough money to buy an updated version that’s bigger and better, yet he’s choosing the fifty-dollar Christmas gift I gave him nearly a decade ago.

I still wonder where we’d be if our parents never got married. Would I have worked up the courage to ask him if he saw me as more? Or would we have continued to drift apart without a reason to bring us together a couple of times a year?

Pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, I stand and quietly pad up the stairs toward my room. I do my best to push the racing thoughts of everything that could’ve been to the back of my mind, knowing that no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to let them go for good.