Page 40

THIRTY-EIGHT

ARDEN

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Gina says, pressing the button on the coffee maker as I pad into the kitchen. It’s still pretty early, and I didn’t sleep well without Jacks, so I decided to start the day, leaving Hawk out cold in bed. I’m sure it won’t be long before he wakes up and realizes I’m gone, but this is a good opportunity to talk about the things she wanted to discuss yesterday. With all the excitement of my Rip-It endorsement, I’m glad we didn’t dig into the Flare drama. It certainly would’ve put a damper on things.

“Morning,” I reply, opening the cupboard and filling a glass with water before moving to where my anxiety meds are sitting on the counter. I pluck one from the bottle before placing it onto my tongue and taking a sip. I'm supposed to take it with food, and normally, it would already be next to whatever breakfast was waiting for me when I came down the stairs. But since I'm the first one up, and I don't know if we will be sticking to our normal routine, I may as well just get it out of the way now. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Your dad can’t sleep without the white noise machine these days. A commercial airliner could’ve flown through here, and I wouldn’t have heard it.”

Well, fuck. If I had known that, I wouldn't have stayed away from her son all night. It's funny how, after such a short time of sleeping with the two of them, I can't seem to fully rest if I don't have one of my boys on each side. Maybe I'll be able to sneak Jackson into bed tonight so we don't have to go through that all over again. It's still a risk, but it beats tossing and turning all night.

“Anyway,” she says, carefully walking over to the table with her steaming mug and taking a seat. I make a cup for myself before sitting down across from her because, if I have to tell her all about how Dahlia is running our team into the ground, I’d like to be caffeinated while I do it. “I looked at your stats the other day. Unfortunately, the match broadcasts were blacked out at our house, so I wasn’t able to watch. I saw some of the plays on the team website, but you didn’t look like yourself. Is something going on?”

I sigh, slouching a little because she’s right. I looked like shit, and it translated onto paper. My assists were almost half of what they were in Argentina, and I have better chemistry with my hitters here. If I was in charge of what we were running on the court, things would be so much different. “I mean, it’s fine. My teammates are great. It took me a little while to learn what they like, but we figured it out. Coach has insisted that she be in charge of calling the plays, though, so it's been a rough transition.”

Her brows furrow in confusion. “Wait. She what ?” She blinks rapidly, turning her head slightly as though she didn’t hear me right the first time.

I shrug. “Dahlia calls our plays from the sideline. And before you ask, I really don't know why. About two weeks ago, I made a few dumps she didn't like, but other than that, I can't think of any reason she wouldn’t trust me to make the right choices.” I decide to leave out all the details about the way she's spoken to me, and how it's affected my mental health. Having the boys’ support and working with my therapist has really helped me cope with the pressure I'm under, and I don't want to bring Gina into that side of things. It's only a matter of time before Dahlia realizes that her decision is hurting the team, then we'll be back to normal. There's no way she'll risk her job by letting us lose match after match just to prove a point. At least, I hope not.

She takes a sip of her drink, thinking for a moment, still clearly befuddled by what I’m telling her.

Me too, girl.

“I don't think I've ever heard of a coach doing that outside of high school. Do you want me to say something to her? As your agent, I can't let her run your career into the ground. So, if you feel like that's a possibility, I think we should nip it in the bud before it becomes a real problem.”

I shake my head, worry washing over me. “Not yet. Let's give her another match or two to figure out that it's not going to work. With any luck, she'll change things back to the way they were, and it won’t affect our chances at making playoffs. It'll be easier on everyone if she thinks it was all her own idea.”

She gives me a skeptical look but eventually backs off. “Fine. We’ll see where things are at in a couple weeks. By the way, I'll need you to sign the paperwork for your endorsement. I know they want to roll out the merchandise as soon as possible, to strike while the iron is hot with the league kicking off their first season. Let me go grab that from upstairs so we can get it out of the way and enjoy the rest of our visit.”

“Sounds good,” I say, just as Jackson enters the room. He looks delicious in a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants, with his mouth-watering chest and abs on full display. His hair is messy, just like it is every day when he wakes up, and it takes all my self-control not to walk over and drag my fingers through it. He's always so warm and cozy in the morning, and I can almost smell him from here. I'd give anything to have his strong arms wrapped around me right now.

“Hey, honey,” she says, rising from her seat. “I was thinking we could go for a drive along the coast later. I need it to get through another Pennsylvania winter.”

He laughs. “You got it, Mom. Maybe we’ll even steal you a bucket of sand to bury your feet in on the really cold days.”

Her jaw drops, and she throws a hand over her heart in faux shock. “Jackson Matthew, that’s illegal. I thought I raised you better.” She pauses, pushing her bottom lip out thoughtfully. “If we get caught, I’m telling them it was your idea.” He rolls his eyes, an adorable smile breaking through his poor attempt at an annoyed expression. “We'll go this afternoon. I just want to get Arden's contract signed so I can send it over to Rip-It Sports as soon as possible. Be right back.”

She exits the kitchen, and as soon as her footsteps fade up the stairs, I’m being yanked to my feet. He wastes no time placing a hand on each of my cheeks and lowering his mouth to mine in a desperate kiss. I suppress the moan that works its way up my throat, opening as soon as his tongue presses between my lips. It’s sloppy and hurried, but a much-needed connection after our night apart.

“Fucking missed you,” he whispers on a quiet exhale before plunging back inside. It’s like he’s trying to get his fill, tasting me like he doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. He’s not wrong. We agreed to wait until right before our parents leave to tell them that we’re together, so at the very least, we still can't be affectionate out in the open for another day.

My hands slide up his arms, clutching onto his warm biceps as he claims me, while his move down my body, gripping onto my ass firmly. I fight my instinct to throw a leg over his hip, but the need to feel him grind into me is almost overwhelming.

We lose ourselves in the kiss, only breaking apart when we hear a familiar voice cutting through the air behind us. “What the fuck is going on?” Gina says loudly, letting go of the papers in her hand as they flutter to the floor at her feet. We step away from each other abruptly, but the damage is already done. She saw everything, and now she's staring in horror as she awaits an answer.

“Mom,” Jackson says, putting both hands up in caution. “Let me explain.” My heart beats a deafening cadence in my chest, and suddenly, I feel like I can barely breathe. The plan was to tell her all along. But we definitely didn't want her to find out like this.

“Explain what?” she yells angrily, bouncing her gaze my way. “I saw how you and Hawk were touching each other yesterday. I thought you were with him.” Her brows are pulled tight, and she glances around as if the otherwise empty room will validate her assumption. I swallow thickly, attempting to gather saliva with my tongue, because I feel like I have a hundred cotton balls in my mouth, making it impossible to speak.

“I—" I croak, clearing my throat. “I am…with Hawk.”

“Does he know you’re down here kissing Jackson right now?” Apparently, Jacks doesn’t like the accusing tone behind her question, because he steps closer to me, wrapping his fingers tightly around mine in a silent show of solidarity.

“He knows everything. We love her, and we both want to be with her.” He says the words with so much confidence, my heart flips in my chest, but anxiety creeps its way back to the forefront as she scoffs in disagreement.

“No,” she snaps in my direction, the kind, loving woman I’ve known since I was a child nowhere to be found. “Absolutely not. This will ruin your image. If you go public with the fact that you not only have two boyfriends , but one is your stepbrother, you’ll get torn apart in the media. If it gets bad enough, Rip-It will revoke your deal. Not to mention, if the league doesn’t like the negative press, they could say you violated the morality clause in your contract. That would void everything.”

Jackson whips his head my way, and his grip loosens around mine before he severs the connection I so desperately need. I look down at my empty hand as panic begins to flow through my veins like poison. My stomach churns, and my insides twist uncomfortably while they both stare at me, waiting for a response. But I don’t have one to give. It’s been my dream to play volleyball at a professional level since I first stepped foot onto the court. I can’t remember ever wanting anything more—at least not until he and Hawk made me theirs. Now, they’re the best part of my day. My peace in the storm. Without them, I don’t even want to think about how incomplete I’d be.

I can live without volleyball. I’ve already felt the sting of that loss once. But could I truly survive loving and losing my boys?

The thought hits me like a speeding train, and I feel the panic as it snakes throughout my limbs, wrapping tightly around my throat and stealing the breath from my lungs. Every muscle in my body tenses to the point of pain, and without even thinking, my feet carry me backward, creating even more space between myself and the one person in the world who’s calmed me since we were kids.

“Arden, wait!” he says as I bolt toward the stairs, taking them two at a time as fast as my trembling legs will carry me. I vaguely hear him running after me, but I blow through the entrance to my room, closing and locking the door just as he hits the top.

“Arden!” he shouts, pounding on the thick wood with heavy, closed fists. “Open up and talk to me!”

“Go away, Jackson. Give me a minute, please,” I reply weakly, my feet feeling like two cinder blocks as I trudge toward the bathroom, closing and locking myself in before lowering to the floor. Sucking in gulps of air that never seem to fully fill my lungs, I focus on not falling into the darkness. I don’t want to be there…I want to be here. I’m just not ready to have whatever conversation awaits me outside these walls.

I know Jacks better than anyone, and I could practically hear his thoughts in the kitchen. Gina’s words put doubt in his mind, and now he’s second-guessing whether or not we should be together. If that’s the case, and he wants out, I’ll do whatever I can to stop him. But if he ultimately chooses to walk away, he’ll take a big piece of me with him—and I just want to keep it for a little while longer.

The muffled knocks stop for a while, and I let my tears flow freely, feeling more and more numb with every second that ticks by. I allow my head to fall onto my knees when I can no longer support it on my own, and I wrap my arms around my legs, doing my best to hold myself together. My entire body aches as it trembles, and I jolt up as more thundering blows beat against the bedroom door. I vaguely hear Hawk’s booming voice, but I ignore it, knowing I’m too weak to answer loud enough for him to hear me anyway.

Remembering what I’ve worked on in therapy, I look around the room in an attempt to ground myself, starting with five things I can see.

Shower. Towel. Bathrobe. Lotion. Fluffy rug.

I inhale deeply, leaning to the side and running my hand along the plush fibers. The deep, velvety texture is soft against my palm, and I feel myself relax a little as I pass back and forth over it. Getting lost in the sensation for several minutes, I’m startled as a loud crack brings me back to reality. Heavy footsteps approach the bathroom door, followed by the sound of Hawk’s concerned voice.

“Baby, it’s me. Can you let me in?” His tone is full of gravel, yet breathless, which means someone likely woke him after I ran in here.

“I just need a few minutes,” I reply. “I’m okay.” It’s not a lie—at least, I don’t think it is. A few months ago, this panic attack would’ve sent me somewhere else. But right now, I’m coping by using the techniques I’ve learned. Do I want him in here, holding me and telling me it’s going to be alright? Yes. But I’d rather not face anyone until I’m ready.

“I’m right here,” he says. “You can stay in there as long as you want, but I’ll be sitting on the other side of this door. You aren’t alone.” My eyes fill with tears again, grateful that he understands what I need. It’s just too much all at once, and if I don’t take the time to find my center, I’ll spiral before we can even get to the bottom of things.

I try not to get swept away in the what-ifs as I think about what may come next for us. Jacks has always been the type to put others’ happiness and well-being before his own, and knowing that my career could be in jeopardy isn’t something he’ll be able to ignore. My hope is that he’ll talk to me, and we’ll figure out a way to get through this together.

I take more time for myself, listening to the calming softness of Hawk’s even breathing through the wood that separates us. As soon as I stand from the cold floor, I’m hit with my own reflection in the mirror. My eyes are red and swollen from crying, and my skin is covered in blotches. But I’m here. And no matter what happens in the coming days, I’ll get through it, hopefully with Hawk and Jackson by my side.

Turning on the sink, I splash a few handfuls of cold water on my burning face, carefully blotting it with a towel. I take another deep, soothing breath, filling my lungs with oxygen before reaching forward and pulling on the doorknob. Hawk looks up from where he sits with his back against the wall, hurrying to his feet and yanking me into his comforting arms. Doing my best to stop more tears from falling because I don’t want to spiral all over again, I inhale his scent, focusing on the deep connection his embrace provides. I need it right now, and I’m grateful that he gets me the way he does.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the crown of my head. “He went for a drive, and your parents took off to give us some time. Your dad was consoling Gina because she was pretty rattled, so I promised him I’d take care of you. He’s going to call to check on you later. We’ll let the dust settle, and then you and Jacks can talk about everything.” He pulls back just enough so that I can see his face when he tilts my chin up toward him. “Whatever you need from me, it’s yours. I’m not going anywhere.” The sincerity in his eyes is like a tranquilizer straight to my heart, and I lean into him, allowing him to bear the heavy weight of my body.

“I need him ,” I say weakly, my voice shaking with emotion.

“I know.” He leads me to the bed, sitting against the pillow before pulling me into his lap. I curl up, focusing on the warmth of his chest against my ear as we sit in silence for what seems like hours. But as soon as I hear the faint sounds of someone moving around downstairs, my pulse speeds up. I go rigid, looking at Hawk with fear written all over my face as footsteps come closer and the bedroom door—which now has a broken lock from his entrance earlier—pushes open.

“Hey,” Jackson croaks as I take in his dismal appearance. He looks about as rough as I do, his slumped posture and sullen expression telling me that he’s been going through it, too. “Can we talk?”