Page 10

Chapter Ten

Hayden

I must have imagined what this moment would be like more than a thousand times over the years. What it would be like to kiss Jackson again. I’d often think about the softness of his lips, his low, breathy moans, and the addictive taste of him as my tongue dove into his warm mouth. I’ve thought about it in so many ways, but none of them were like this.

The possessive way he grips my head in both hands, fingers burying into my hair, holding on to me like he’s afraid I’m going to disappear. His greedy pulls on my tongue and the low growl from deep in his chest make my toes curl.

I cautiously place my hands on his hips. With the desperation that’s thrumming through my veins, I don’t want to be overzealous by grabbing him and hauling him closer like I want to do, but I need to touch him in some way.

I need to know that this is real and not some figment of my imagination .

He responds by pressing a thick, muscular thigh between mine. He rolls his hips, and I gasp into his mouth when his hard length rubs against the underside of my dick.

Fuck. He’s going to make me lose my mind.

He deepens the kiss, and there’s no way on earth I can stop the moan that escapes me. The edge of the vanity digs into my ass cheeks from the weight of his body pressing up against me, but I’m not going to complain. I don’t want to break this moment. Not when I’ve finally got Jackson in front of me.

Not when I’ve finally got his lips on mine again. His body pressed against me, enveloping me in his heady scent.

His tongue sweeps into my mouth in hungry strokes. He tastes like beer and frustration and a whole heap of want. He bumps my glasses with his nose, shifting them to sit awkwardly on my face, but I don’t dare move to right them. He can knock them onto the damn floor for all I care. Anything, as long as he doesn’t take his mouth off me.

Giving in to temptation, my hands slide up the hard planes on his body. He feels so much bigger than he did before. Like the last fourteen years have been kind to him. The thin material of his costume does nothing to disguise the ridges and grooves of his solid obliques, and his muscles shiver as my hands travel higher. When I reach his chest, I smooth my fingers over his pecs, then pinch his nipples between two fingers.

“Fuck,” he hisses, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth.

My lips tip into a wicked grin at his reaction. He’s just as sensitive as I remembered.

He rests his forehead against mine, and minutes go by as we stand there, eyes closed while trying to catch our breath. My heart is beating a mile a minute, and I’m starting to feel a little light-headed from the blood that’s rushing down to my cock.

But that euphoric feeling doesn’t last long. He takes a step back, and it’s like I’ve been doused in ice-cold water when he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

I rear back and right my glasses so I can see him clearly.

“What?” I sputter. “What for?”

He takes another step back, increasing the distance between us, and runs an agitated hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. That was a mistake.”

Well, fucking ouch .

My fight-or-flight instincts kick in, chest tightening, pulse quickening. That kiss didn’t feel like a mistake to me. It felt like it was fueled by hunger and desire with a hint of frustration wrapped up in one Jackson-flavored package. I won’t let him take this moment from me. Not when it’s the first time I’ve felt alive in years.

Straightening my spine, I say with all the confidence I can muster, “Well, I’m not sorry.”

His gaze snaps up to meet mine. “You’re not?”

“No, I’m not. If it isn’t obvious already, I’m kind of a mess for you, Jackson. I always have been.”

“I… don’t understand. But you used to be married?” he asks, brows pinching.

“Yeah, I was, and I’ll love Zara until the day I die because she’s an incredible woman, but I married her for the wrong reasons.”

He watches me for a beat. There’s a mix of emotion swirling in those brilliant blue eyes. Obvious desire, but also fear. I want to know what he’s afraid of so I can show him he doesn’t need to be. I want to show him I’ve changed, that I’m not the same guy I was.

I might be broken, but I’m not stupid enough to throw away his heart for a second time. If I’m so lucky enough to catch it again.

He runs a hand down his face and drops down to sit on the closed toilet seat. “I’m so fucking confused.”

“About what?”

“You. Me. This.” He waves a hand between us. “I don’t want to want you again. I can’t risk falling into your hands only to get hurt, Hayden, because I barely survived the last time. I have my kids to think about now.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I admit quietly.

Quite the opposite, actually.

“I know I asked this in Boston, but why now? If you’ve been a mess for me all this time, why now?”

I lean back against the vanity, taking some of my weight off my knees. I wet my lips with my tongue, then rub my fingers against the cool marble top, tracing the shapes and lines. It’s hard for me to open up and be vulnerable about my past struggles. Most of the time, when people hear you have depression, they don’t know how to act around you. Or worse, tell you that you have nothing to be sad about or other people have it worse, or you’ll get over it, or that everyone gets sad sometimes.

Zara’s words from the other day about being more open with him come filtering back through my mind. Jackson was always my safe place before I fucked everything up, and the level of care shining in his eyes right now tells me he can sense my reluctance. He’s always been more emotionally mature. I know he won’t spew the other shit, but I also know I can’t dump all my trauma at his feet.

I can do this. I trust Jackson, and if I want this to happen—for us to happen—I need to tell him.

Give him the option to escape.

No, I can’t think like that.

Baby steps.

“It took me a long time to realize that I had married Zara for the wrong reasons. Years, in fact. It was during one of my therapy sessions that I realized it had always been you, but I screwed up big-time. I needed to make sure that I wasn’t that same guy who broke your heart. I needed to work on myself to make sure I was worthy of you before I tried to reach out. The way I ended things with us wasn’t okay. I was scared and immature. I believed the negative voices in my head telling me you would be better off without me, but that’s no excuse for the way I treated you.”

He stares at me, brows still slightly furrowed, but there’s a new emotion in his eyes. Empathy. His voice is soft when he asks, “And how long has that been? That you’ve been working on yourself before reaching out?”

“Six years,” I manage, dropping my gaze to the floor. I can’t look at him when I tell him this. I can’t bear to see the pitying look on his face when he finally knows the truth. I can do this. “It was after Zara found me trying to end my life.”

The bathroom is silent, apart from the music coming from downstairs and the blood rushing in my ears. When he doesn’t speak, I lift my head, and the expression on his face knocks the breath out of my lungs .

His eyes shine with unshed tears, cheek tinged pink as he swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“ Cas ,” he whispers, voice cracking.

I dip my head again. Shame coats me like a shroud, like it always does every time I have to say those words out loud.

I’m aware of Jackson standing up, but I’m not prepared for when he steps in front of me. His fingers grip my chin, and he angles my head up to face him. My eyes lock with his.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers with a shaky voice. “Really fucking glad.”

My face goes hot. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I am.” His tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip, and then he takes a deep inhale. “I need time. I’m not saying no, but I can’t say yes right now either. It’s not just my life anymore, Cas. It’s Ryan and Isabela too. I’ve put them through so much fucking shit with the divorce and moving to Chicago that I can’t risk bringing any more chaos into their lives. Not that you would be chaos, but any new relationship would be a change for them. And I need to figure things out in here—” He taps his head, then his heart. “—and here first.”

Swallowing down the puck-sized lump that’s formed in my throat, I nod as best as I can with his hand still holding my chin. “I understand.”

This has to mean something, right? I wasn’t expecting him to jump in my arms and tell me we’re getting back together. I knew it was going to be a progressive thing. A marathon, not a sprint.

Baby steps .

I’ll give him the time he needs. I’ll wait until the end of time for him if he asks me to.

“I think it’s best if I go,” he whispers, tracing over my bottom lip with his thumb before letting go of my chin.

I open my mouth to argue that these are his friends, his teammates. If anyone should be leaving, it should be me, but he holds up a hand to stop me before I get the chance to speak.

“You should stay. Enjoy yourself. I just… I need to clear my head.”

Jackson takes a step to the door and clicks the lock open. I grab hold of his wrist before he can open the door. He looks over his shoulder, patience radiating in his eyes as he waits for me to speak.

“Can I still speak to you?”

A soft smile crosses his lips. “Yeah, you can. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t enlighten me further on random facts about jellyfish every morning.”

I huff a laugh, suddenly feeling sheepish.

“I hope you’ll tell me the story about them one day.”

“Yeah. I will,” I say quietly, then let go of his wrist.

He opens the door and gives a gentle nod of his head to say goodbye. I watch him leave, my chest heavy with emotion.

Okay, so that went better than I expected. Opening up wasn’t as scary as I made it out to be in my head. If anything, it’s done what Zara predicted. It’s created an olive branch between us, opened up the door for whatever might happen in the future.

Turning around, I splash my face with water and use a towel to dry off. When I head back downstairs, Jackson’s nowhere to be seen, but the disappointment I would’ve felt before doesn’t come.

Can we talk about progress? High five to me.

I gaze around the open-plan kitchen living room area, and it seems everyone has been preoccupied and too busy to notice I disappeared upstairs until my eyes catch a set of brown eyes staring at me from behind black-framed glasses.

Ethan Parkes is watching me. His face is stoic, expression giving nothing away. Except when he arches one brow, silently letting me know he noticed, and clearly, he saw Jackson leave only moments ago.

Steeling my shoulders back, I take a steadying breath and head toward where he’s standing with Jacob, Alex, Blaine, Zach, and Carter.

“Hey!” Blaine greets me with a wide smile, then looks at my empty hands. “You need a beer?”

“Whiskey, if there’s any left.”

I risk a glance in Ethan’s direction, and his dark eyes still bore into me as he takes a sip of what looks like my whiskey.

“Here you go,” Blaine says, handing over a glass. “So what did you come as? I can’t tell if you’re supposed to be some kind of cat.”

“I’m Chilli, from Bluey .”

“Huh, didn’t Jackson come as something from that?”

“He did,” Ethan answers, his grumble barely audible over the music playing. Nobody picks up on his pointed tone, though, because Ethan’s always been on the quiet and grumpy side. Add in the fact he’s dressed up as the Beast while Jacob has come as Belle, and he’s only adding to the part.

Needing to change the subject, I wiggle my finger between Zach and Carter. “This is iconic. I never would’ve guessed you’d come in Star Wars theme.”

“It was my idea.” Carter grins, ignoring my sarcasm. “I can’t wait for him to be punching into my hyperspace later.” He wiggles his brows suggestively and thrusts his hips while Zach groans and drops his face into his palm.

I choke on my drink, and the others burst into laughter.

“Thanks for that visual,” I deadpan.

“You’re welcome.” Carter beams.

“You should have heard some of the things he was saying earlier about us,” Alex pipes up. He’s in a Pikachu onesie, similar to my costume, and Blaine has come as Ash from Pokémon .

“It’s not my fault you come in such innuendo-worthy costumes,” Carter retorts.

“You literally asked us if I smack my balls against Alex’s face and pretend to catch him,” Blaine points out.

“And? I don’t see the problem with that.”

My gaze bounces between them in amusement, and then a guy I recognize from the wedding appears at my side, holding out his hand.

“I don’t think we’ve met. Hi, I’m Nate,” he says, laying the charm on thick.

“ Nate ,” Alex warns.

“What? I’m introducing myself.”

“I thought you’d be all over our goalie,” Zach says.

Nate chuckles. “A guy can dream, but in all honesty, we’re not suited. Could you imagine the chaos we’d cause together?”

“Yes,” Alex chimes in quickly. “Plus, I warned you to stay away from him. ”

“Eh.” Nate waves his hand dismissively. “That only encouraged me. Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s hot as sin, but our personalities would clash too much, and he’s not the kind of guy you have a one-night stand with.”

Blaine visibly shudders. “Please don’t talk about fucking my twin in front of me.”

“Who wants to play drunk Twister?” Peyton shouts, holding up a plastic mat with colorful dots on it.

“Aaaand that’s my cue to leave.” Twister and bad joints are a recipe for disaster. I down the remnants of my drink and place the glass in the sink. “Thanks for the fun night.”

“What? You’re leaving already?” Nate coos, placing his hand on my chest.

I look down at his hand, then back up at him. He’s bold, I’ll give him that.

“Nate!” Alex scowls. “I swear I am never bringing you again.”

Nate flashes a flirty smile and saunters off while Alex gives me an apologetic look. I give him a wink, letting him know it’s okay, then make my rounds to say goodbye. When I head outside, my ride share is waiting. I slide into the back seat and rest my head against the headrest, watching the bright lights of downtown Chicago pass by. I’m feeling oddly… content. I wasn’t sure how tonight was going to go, especially turning up in this costume, but I’m glad I did.

My phone vibrates ten minutes later as the door to my hotel suite closes behind me. I slip it from my pocket, and my heart lurches at the sight of Jackson’s name on the screen.

Jackson

I meant what I said earlier. I’m glad you’re here, Cas. You’ve always been important to me. No matter what happens, I want you to remember that.

I raise my hand, shielding the smile that threatens to split my face in two. I don’t think Jackson fully understands how much those words mean to me.

Especially coming from him.