Page 20

Chapter Twenty

Hayden

I wince from the bitter wind coming in from the lake. I pull my hat further down over my ears before stuffing my hands in my coat pockets. When I lived in Boston, the winters were brutal for me after my injury. It was almost like my bones had become meteorologists and could sense the change in weather before it happened. But as the years have gone on, it’s only become worse, which is why I now call California my home.

Sure, sometimes the winters there can get cool, but it’s nothing like this.

I’ve only been out of the car for less than two minutes, and already my knees are beginning to feel stiff. The wind is making it feel like mid-twenties.

“It’s just a short walk,” Jackson tells me while he unbuckles Isabela from her car seat. We had to park near Millenium Park as the first parking lot we tried was full. Ryan stands next to me on the sidewalk, decked out in a Thunder hat and scarf, and the sight makes me smile .

“Where we going, Daddy?” Isabela asks, holding on to his shoulders when he lifts her out and sets her on the sidewalk.

“To a Christmas market,” he replies, shutting the car door and locking it. “No running off, okay? Either of you. There’s going to be a lot of people, so you need to hold my hand at all times.”

“You got it, Dad.” Ryan nods, stepping next to Jackson, ready to take his hand once Jackson’s finished putting his gloves on.

Isabela looks up from beneath her hat. It’s white with the Thunder logo on and a big fluffy pom-pom on top. But it’s so big on her that it’s fallen over her eyes. She pushes it back with her mitten-covered hands and shocks me when she asks, “Can I hold Hayden’s hand?”

Wait, what ?

My head snaps to Jackson as his gaze immediately meets mine. I must not be doing a good job at hiding my surprise because his lips twitch, breaking out in a smile. “If you want to, peanut. As long as Hayden doesn’t mind.”

I have to swallow hard as emotion gets stuck in my throat. Shit. Am I going to get all emotional because a four-year-old wants to hold my hand?

It’s because she’s his four-year-old.

I look down at her and smile. “Of course you can.” I hold my hand out to her, and my heart swells in my chest as she takes it with an excited squeal.

Is this what it feels like to be chosen? Like when a dog picks you out of a room full of people for a cuddle?

Ah, hell. Now I’m comparing Jackson’s daughter to a dog. I didn’t mean it like that .

Jackson’s expression is filled with pride as we make our way toward Daley Plaza, one of the locations for Chicago’s annual Christkindlmarket. Our hands brush against each other, and I sneak glances at him. I want to grab hold of his hand so badly, but I understand that he doesn’t want the kids to be confused before he’s had a chance to talk to them. Something he doesn’t want to do until we have spoken, but we’re both dancing around it. Digging up the past sucks, even if it’s necessary for us to move forward in our relationship. He deserves to know that I was the reason our relationship ended, and it wasn’t because of anything he did or didn’t do.

My steps falter when we turn the corner to Daley Plaza, and I notice the line to enter the market wraps around the corner.

Standing still in this cold weather is hell for me.

“Uh, Jax. I don’t suppose you can use your Thunder pro-athlete status to jump the queue?”

He chuckles. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work here. Maybe if I played baseball, it would be a different story.”

The image of Jackson in tight baseball pants and an unbuttoned shirt appears in my mind. His golden chest glistening with sweat. His round ass threatening to split the seams of his pants.

Fuck. Maybe I need to make this happen, like a one-man strip show.

I suppress a groan. And because he knows me so darn well, he arches a brow and throws a smirk my way. “You okay over there?”

“Mhm,” I hum, mentally stashing the thought away to bring up later.

He laughs, and we join the end of the line.

It takes twenty minutes by the time we get into the market, and my body is aching. I’m trying to hide my discomfort because Isabela is also crabby at having to wait. Jackson had to carry her for a bit, all while she hid her face in his neck and grumbled, but now she’s back to holding my hand, leading me toward the hut that sells mini Dutch pancakes.

“Look!” She points at the menu board and jumps excitedly. Then she looks up at me with big, innocent blue eyes and asks, “Buy me some?”

I practically melt into a puddle on the floor, but Jackson swoops in before I can pull out my wallet.

“Isabela, that’s not how we ask for things, is it?”

“It’s okay—” I stutter.

“No. She knows that’s not how she asks for things.”

She sticks out her bottom lip and lets out an almighty sigh like she’s just worked a seventy-two-hour shift. “Can I have some, please?”

“That’s better.”

“I’ll get these.” I glance over to Jackson, looking for his approval.

He shakes his head. “No, I can’t let you do that. They’re twelve dollars for some pancakes.”

“Jackson,” I scoff. “I earned eight million a year. I’m pretty sure I can buy your kids some pancakes.”

We end up in a stare-off as he has an internal war with himself, but eventually, he caves with a sigh. “Okay, but only this once.”

“Noted.” I wink, but hopefully, this won’t be the first and last time we get to spend the day together like this.

Like a family.

I order three trays of the mini pancakes with strawberries and melted milk chocolate. We find a table to sit and eat next to some outdoor heaters, and the warmth is an instant relief. I slide the tray in front of her, and Isabela beams up at me. Her soft “thank you” makes me want to run back to the stall and buy her twelve more.

“These are so good. Thanks, Hayden,” Ryan says between bites. Somehow, he’s managed to get chocolate all around his mouth.

“So good you had to shove your face in them?” I tease.

Sighing, Jackson picks up a napkin and hands it over to Ryan.

“Jesus, can’t take you anywhere,” he murmurs, causing Ryan to laugh.

I dig my fork into a juicy strawberry and mini pancake, making sure to get plenty of chocolate, and then I hold it out in front of Jackson. His blue eyes sparkle as he eyes the food, then back at me.

“What?” he asks.

“Try it.” I edge the fork forward. “Tell me how good it is.”

The tip of his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and then he leans forward and opens his mouth. Just as he’s about to take a bite, I raise my hand and get chocolate on his nose. Both kids burst into giggles, and I grin wickedly.

“You sh—” he curses, but I cut him off before he can finish.

“Hey, the kids are present. You’ve gotta be nice to me.”

His eyes darken with heat. He grips his hand around my wrist and brings the fork to his mouth. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he wraps his lips around the fork and pulls the food into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he moans while he chews. “So good.”

“You’ve still got some…” I motion to my nose with my fingers.

“Daddy,” Isabela giggles. “You got chocolate on your face.”

With a roll of his eyes, he picks up a napkin and wipes it off, but the corner of his lips is tilted up.

“That was funny,” Ryan chuckles, and I lean over the table to give him a high five.

Jackson and I finish our tray in a more civilized manner. There are no more chocolate incidents, but he doesn’t stop with the heated glances and brushing of his knee against mine under the table. Ryan fills me in on how his hockey training is going, and once the kids have finished and their faces have been cleaned up of chocolate, we make our way around the rest of the market.

When we line up for the specialty hot chocolates that come in souvenir mugs, his hand finds the base of my spine beneath my coat. I lean back into him, loving the warmth of his hand over my sweater.

“What can I get for you?” the woman asks when it’s our turn.

“Three hot chocolates in the souvenir cups and one child-size hot chocolate,” Jackson says.

“They have gingerbread cookies!” Ryan points to the menu board.

“And two gingerbread cookies,” I chime in, earning another high five from Ryan.

“Yes!” Isabela chants, clapping her hands .

I shift to pull out my wallet, but Jackson drops his hand to curve around my hip and squeezes. He gives me an I don’t think so look and taps his phone on the card reader.

“Why don’t you and Iz grab that table,” Jackson suggests, pointing to a high-top table to the left. “Ryan can help me carry the drinks over.”

I hold my hand out to her, and she grabs hold of it, marching me over to the empty table. She twirls around the table post, then stops in front of me and beckons with her mitten-clad hand.

I try to hide my grimace as I crouch down, my hips and knees protesting the movement. Fuck, it’s like my bones are grinding together.

“What’s up?” I ask her quietly.

She eyes me for a moment, suddenly turning all shy. I catch Jackson’s eyes the second she wraps her arms around my neck. His eyes widen in surprise, but his broad smile hits me square in the chest. My breath hitches. I wrap one arm around her, not quite sure how to take this sudden burst of affection. My eyes burn despite the frigid weather, and I quickly wipe at them when she takes a step back, then returns to twirling around the table as if she didn’t just shift my world on its axis.

All the pain that spikes through my body when I stand back upright is ignored because holy fucking shit. I’m stunned by the realization of how significant this is. Jackson has told me all about how Isabela doesn’t take too well to new people, and here she is, openly offering her affection to me after a couple of weeks.

It’s not just Jackson’s heart you’re at risk of breaking by being a fuckup. It’s theirs too .

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push the negative voice away. I know I can’t think like that. I’ve worked too hard to allow the voice to win when I’m finally in a good place. I can’t allow the doubt and the anxiety to ruin what could possibly be the most perfect thing I’ll ever have.

Jackson and Ryan carry the hot chocolates over to the table, and he must sense that I’m struggling to keep my emotions in check.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, brushing his hand over mine when he hands over my drink.

“Yeah,” I croak. I give a shaky nod and clear my throat. “Yeah, I am. Wow, these look great.”

“Did you know they use a special whipped cream, so it cools it down a lot quicker than an ordinary hot chocolate?” Ryan tells me.

I glance at Jackson, silently asking, How is he so grown-up? But he answers with a shrug.

“Daddy!” Isabela appears from under the table and jumps up and down at Jackson’s side, tugging on his arm. He scoops her up with ease, holding her up in one arm, and takes a sip of his hot chocolate. It has a scoop of homemade whipped cream and a small gingerbread cookie. She plucks the cookie from his mug and takes a huge bite, then proceeds to spray crumbs everywhere when she bursts into a fit of giggles at his shocked expression.

“Did you just steal my gingerbread?” He mock gasps. “Isabela Wilde, you little thief,” he tsks, which only makes her laugh harder.

“Can’t take her anywhere.” Ryan rolls his eyes, echoing Jackson’s words from earlier, and I snort with laughter.

As I watch the three of them laugh and joke over the stolen gingerbread, I make a silent oath that while I’m on this earth, I’ll never do anything to risk hurting them. I’m still a work in progress, and I’m never going to be truly fixed, but they are quickly becoming my entire world.

And I’ll do anything to protect their happiness.