Page 32 of Everything In Between

TWENTY-SIX

hayes

Once Jersey is cleared to leave the studio, we go back to her place to clean up before heading out for dinner. I ask her a few times if she is still up to going out after her long day, but she reassures me each time.

“Yeah. I need a break. And possibly a drink . . . or three.” She gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

I take that as a personal challenge—we’re going to end this evening on a high note.

“I’ll find us the perfect place then,” I assure her, grabbing my phone and reading over the reviews of a few places before settling on one that I’m sure will amp up Jersey’s mood.

Not long later, her driver is pulling into the restaurant parking lot.

Jersey peers out the window as the car comes to a stop and then she turns to me in question, one of her dark eyebrows arching on her face. “A bar?”

I smirk at her. “Gotta keep it interesting.”

Her eyes go wide with alarm. “I don’t think I can go in there. We don’t have security.”

Running my hand down the back of her hair, I say, “I’ll be right next to you the whole time. No one’s getting close to you unless you tell me it’s okay.”

Her eyes trace my face and I see the moment my words soften her. She exhales and tilts her head. “All right, let’s go.”

Together, we get out of the car and walk up to the front door. I pull it open, letting Jersey walk in first before following closely behind her. As soon as I step into the establishment, I know everything I read about it online was true to its word.

The bar instantly gives me a semblance of home.

The warm wood paneling on the walls and ambient lighting are inviting and comfortable.

The scent of french fries and smash burgers permeates the air and my stomach rumbles at the prospect of delicious food.

At the far end of the dining area, next to the bar seating, is a small stage where a young girl stands, front and center, singing boldly into the microphone while confidently strumming at the guitar around her neck.

I figured Jersey would love a place with an open mic night, which is why I chose this place over all the other popular places here in LA

I suspect I was right.

Jersey gasps a little, her attention zeroing in on the young artist singing her heart out.

While she’s distracted, I find us a place to sit.

Grabbing her hand, I pull her over to a small two-seater table close to the stage.

Her gaze never leaves the singer as we walk past the oblivious barflies.

I was also right in taking the chance that Jersey could fly under the radar here.

We’re far enough away from the main scene—not to mention the general demographic of pub crawlers isn’t too into pop princesses—that I knew she’d be safe here.

Otherwise, I wouldn’t have taken the chance.

I’d throw myself in front of a bullet for her if I had to. I wouldn’t even hesitate sacrificing myself to keep her safe. It means a lot to me to know she trusts I’ll always have her back.

Jersey slides into the seat directly facing the stage, her eyes still glued to the young girl. When the singer finishes her set, the bar erupts into cheers and applause.

“Wow,” Jersey says.

“She’s really good.”

Jersey shakes her head as if I don’t understand.

“She’s better than good. You can see that she really loves what she’s doing up there.

She loves singing, she loves playing, she loves it all.

” She presses her lips together in a tight line and her eyes grow shiny.

“I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel that way. ”

My heart aches for her and I want to reach across the table to hug her, to take away whatever pain and frustration are eating at her.

Instead, I place my hand up on the table, offering it to her.

She slides her hand into mine, and I note how small her hand is compared to mine—dainty, delicate, perfect.

“You’ll get that back. I know you will.”

Something flashes behind her eyes, and I suspect it has a lot to do with the man currently steamrolling her career. “I hope so. One day.”

The waiter comes by then, giving us a warm smile as he puts down a few cocktail napkins and glasses of water. “Hey guys, what can I get you?” He scans over Jersey first, then me before doing a double take. “Oh shit. Hayes Vogt, right?”

I notice Jersey is trying to fight off a smile at not being the center of attention. Giving the kid a sheepish nod, I acknowledge him. “In the flesh.”

“Dude, you crushed us this year.” He holds out his knuckles and I fist bump him. “You’re a living legend.”

I laugh, relieved that he’s being a good sport about it. “It was a good game across the board. The Lightning really left it all out on the field.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” The server nods. “Anyway, good to meet you. If you have a minute on your way out, I’d love a picture and an autograph.”

“Sure.”

“Sick.” He fights off a broad smile before schooling his features. “What can I get you to drink tonight?”

I order a beer and Jersey orders herself a vodka tonic. The server hurries off to get our drinks and Jersey levels me with an amused smirk, mindlessly running over the petals of the flowers on the table with her fingers.

“What?” I ask her, feigning innocence as I take a sip of my water.

“Is this why you picked a dive bar?” she teases.

“Definitely not. I figured we’d have the best chance of flying under the radar here. And besides, even if I’m recognized, I’m not as big of a deal as you are.”

“Hayes,” she protests. “That’s not true. You’re just as important as I am.”

“Maybe in the sports world, but my fans won’t be as feral as your fans, and you can’t even say I’m wrong. I’ve been to your show, experienced your fans.” She rolls her eyes but doesn’t disagree. Her attention falls to the flower again, a breezy expression falling over her face.

My phone buzzes on the table and I glance at it, biting back a laugh when I see the picture my housekeeper has sent of Periwinkle.

She’s made a fort of sorts on the couch and has buried herself under the blankets and pillows.

There’d be no way one could know she was under there if not for the two beady black eyes peering out.

I flip my phone around and show Jersey, who fights off a smile and shakes her head at the amusing pup.

The server returns a few minutes later with our drinks and we put in an order for some appetizers—fried pickles and pretzels with beer cheese. When he walks away, another up-and-coming artist takes the open stage and introduces himself.

Jersey props her head up on her hand, leaning forward a little to get as good of a view of the singer as possible. A blissful expression takes over her face the moment the singer starts his first song. She might be entranced by the music, but I am entranced by her. I live for these small moments.

I could watch Jersey like this for hours, days, years, an eternity. Her face so clearly displays her love for music and songwriting, and I wish there was a way I could bottle it up and sell it, but I’m grateful I’m the one that gets to see it in real time.

Her love and her passion are priceless.

“He’s so good,” she says, eyes sparkling as she takes in the person on stage. “Listen to the cadence of his lyrics.” And later, as he finished his set and is walking offstage. “He wove that melody together masterfully.” She shakes her head in awe. “He’s gonna go places.”

Even as she enthusiastically explains things I really have no clue about, I listen intently, wanting to understand the things that are so important to her. I want to learn everything about her: her likes, dislikes, and everything in between.

She’s lit up with excited energy the entire ride back to her place. “You remind me of how excited Riley was after we saw your concert,” I tell her, remembering the night fondly. “She was pretty wound up the whole way home, too.”

Jersey beams at me. “Was she?”

“Oh yeah. She’s a huge fan of yours. She’s going to be so excited to meet you some day. You two have a lot in common, so I’m sure you’ll get along well.”

“Will she be at your game before Christmas?” she asks. “She’ll be done with school by then, won’t she? I can’t wait to meet her.”

I shake my head. “She’ll be done with school, but unfortunately, no.

She’ll be coming up for Christmas Day, but she won’t be there for the game.

She’s apparently got a new boyfriend she’s going to spend some time with.

” I try not to let my dissatisfaction show at the thought of my sister dating.

It will take a lot for someone to be worthy of her in my books.

Jersey’s expression falls. “Dang it, I won’t get to see her then. Ugh.” She falls back against the car seat. “Why does Cal have to be such an asshole? I mean, what kind of scrooge wants me to be in the studio on Christmas?”

“That is pretty petty of him,” I agree and then reach for her hand. “But you’ll get through it. We’ll get through it.”

She exhales and squeezes my hand. “You’re right. I was looking forward to our first Christmas and getting to meet your parents and Riley, though.”

“You’ll see my parents at the game and I’m sure if you really want to Riley could be talked into a FaceTime.

That would make her day. I’m in this for the long haul, Jersey.

We’ll have many more Christmases to spend together.

” Hands still entwined, I tug her closer to me, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

She leans against my side, where she stays for the rest of the ride.

When we walk into her condo and close the door behind us, she launches herself into my arms, taking me a little off guard. Her arms wrap around my neck and she hugs me tightly.

“Thank you so much, Hayes.”

“For what?” I murmur into her hair, burying my face against her and breathing her in. She gives the best hugs.

“For everything,” she whispers.

When she untangles herself from me, I meet her gaze and my breath catches. Her warm brown eyes are overflowing with emotion and desire. It sends need skyrocketing through my body.

My hand rises to cradle her cheek, and I tilt her jaw up, positioning her so I can kiss her. She sighs happily as soon as my lips are on hers, leaning into the kiss, driving me wild.

Not wanting to break apart, we stumble down the hallway toward her bedroom, each of us having the same want and need on our minds.

Jersey kicks the door closed behind me and then finally breaks away. She gives me a heady stare as she takes a step backward, her hands falling to the hem of her dress before raising it up and over her head, exposing her body to me.

My mouth goes dry as I take in the lacy blue bra and panty set she’s wearing. The color stands out against her smooth skin. I reach for her again, unable to bear the thought of not touching her.

“You are everything to me, Jersey,” I murmur against her mouth as I kiss her deeply again. She whimpers as she arches into me and the sound goes straight to my dick. I walk her backward until we’re right at the edge of her bed.

She falls back against the mattress and I follow closely behind her, pulling my shirt over my head in the process. I lean down to kiss her again, resting some of my weight against her, the heat from her flushed skin seeping into mine.

Fuck, she feels so good against me.

I could die a happy man knowing what it’s like to kiss her and have her body against mine. The need to have her, consume her, to know her becomes overwhelming.

As I hover above her, something has me pausing. I stare down at her, memorizing the way she appears right now, exactly in this moment. My heart is hammering in my chest, desire coursing through me at rapid speed, but still, I slow down and take in everything about her right here.

Her pupils are dilated, her already plump lips swollen from the ferocity with which I’ve been kissing her. She’s looking up at me as if she’s trying to memorize everything too, commit it to memory.

It’s right then that I realize I love her.

Everything else doesn’t matter—not the short-span of our relationship or any of the obstacles or potential conflicts standing in our way. Jersey was made for me, and I was made for her. We were always meant to find each other in this life, even if it took longer than we would have hoped.

She’s mine, and I’m hers.

That’s all there is to it.