Page 38

THIRTY-EIGHT

carter

ONE WEEK LATER

I slow down at a red light when my phone rings.

I stab the Accept button on the screen.

“What’s up, Dad?”

“Hey, son. It’s actually all of us on the line. Gran, too.”

My lips turn up the slightest bit when I hear their voices.

“Hey, guys.”

“So, what’s happening with Jack? Have you seen him yet?” Gigi asks.

The smile fades from my face quicker than it appeared.

“Nope. But I’m still going to try.”

“Honey, maybe you should just wait until he’s back with the team,” Mom says.

“Give him some space. He went through hell a week ago. He’s lucky to be alive. I’m sure he needs time to process everything.”

“I know, Mom. And that’s more reason to keep trying. I don’t want a single day to go by that he wonders how I feel about him, if I’m going to flake again. I don’t want there to be any doubt in his mind that I’m in this and I won’t stop coming back.”

“That’s the idea, Carter,” Gran says.

“When your grandfather was courting me, I made him bring me flowers every day for weeks before I agreed to go on a date with him. By the time I said yes, I knew he was a keeper because he never backed down.”

“Mom, this is a little different,” Dad says.

“No,” Gran says sternly.

“He’s making a case for himself.”

“I agree,” Ally sings out.

“Make him see all the great things, Carter.”

My fingers wrap tight around the steering wheel as I turn the corner and pull onto Jack’s tree-lined street.

Today, there’s a spot right in front of his building.

Maybe it’s a sign.

I usually have to drive around the block ten times before I get lucky and a spot opens up.

This is too easy.

Maybe that should make me nervous.

I maneuver my truck into the space and put it in Park before turning off the ignition.

“I appreciate the pep talk or whatever this is supposed to be,” I say.

“But I just got to Jack’s place and I’m going back in.”

“Good luck, sweetie,” Mom says.

“We’re all rooting for you.”

“Livvie’s not,” Gigi says with a snicker.

I roll my eyes. I love them but Jesus.

Sometimes they’re too much.

“Hold strong, son,” Dad says.

“He’ll eventually come around.”

“Thanks.” I end the call and let out a shaky breath, just like I’ve done every day that I’ve shown up here.

I get out of the truck, then go around to the passenger side and pull out the bags of treats from Crumble and Whisk, the bakery Jack loves.

I’ve switched it up every day, different meals, foods, gag gifts, cards.

And today, I went a little crazy at the bakery, buying cheesecake, his favorite lemon blueberry cake, cookies, brownies, creamy tarts, and doughnuts.

Hopefully, Jeremy has a sweet tooth, too, since there’s enough in the bags to put them both into a sugar coma for days.

I walk into the building and stop at the security desk.

“What’s good, Howie?” I ask, holding out a box of cookies for him.

Poor guy has had to put up with me all week.

Cookies are the least I can do.

Howie’s eyes widen when he takes in the bag of sweets.

“Is Mr. Larson having a party?”

“Yep. Only I wasn’t invited,” I say.

“Would you mind taking this stuff up to him for me?”

Howie nods and taps his fingers on the desk, eyeing me.

“You know there’s a video on Reddit…”

“Yeah. I know all about it.”

“I just saw it this morning,” he says.

“And all week, you’ve been coming here with all this stuff but you don’t take it up yourself…was it a mistake, that kiss?”

With a tight throat, I shake my head.

“It was probably the best thing that could have happened. But I wasn’t ready for it.”

His eyebrow lifts.

“And now you are?”

I nod.

“He doesn’t want to see me, but I want him to know I’m here for him. That I always will be.” A grin lifts my lips.

“Sorry, that was probably too much information.”

“No, no,” Howie says.

“I asked.” He picks up the phone and dials Jack’s apartment.

His eyes focus on me as he talks.

“Mr. Larson, I have a delivery for you from Mr. Van Kleef. Should I bring it up?”

His eyes widen the slightest bit, and then his face relaxes into a smile.

“Of course, sir.” Then he drops the phone into its cradle.

“Mr. Larson would like you to bring him the packages.” Howie’s eyes crinkle in the corners, his beaming smile is so wide.

My heart jumps and does a little dance.

“Really?”

He nods and presses the button next to the security gate.

“Thanks, Howie. Enjoy the cookies.” I push through it with my lower body since my hands are full as I head to the elevator.

I can barely think over the racket caused by my thudding heart.

The elevator climbs to Jack’s floor and I step out into the hallway.

His apartment is about halfway down the corridor.

I stop in front of the door and set one of the bags down so I can knock, but it swings open before I have a chance.

My breath catches when I see him.

His Black Sabbath t-shirt stretches tight across his muscular chest, his left arm in a sling.

Black sweatpants hang low around his hips.

His hair looks like he just rolled out of bed and hangs over his piercing green eyes.

Week-old stubble covers the bottom half of his face.

I’ve never seen him look more fuckable than he does right now.

Sweat beads on the back of my neck, my body starting to overheat under the jacket and weight of the bags hanging off my arms.

“How much longer are you planning to stalk me?”

I shift under his stare.

“Well, it’s not really stalking if you know it’s me, right? I’m bringing you stuff. Stalkers don’t usually come bearing gifts.”

His lips tighten and he holds the door open a crack wider.

“I don’t have space for any more stuff.”

I peer into the apartment behind him.

The place is covered with bags I’ve sent over the past week.

“Please tell me you’ve at least eaten the food because that’s fucking disgusting if you just keep it laying around like that.”

He rolls his eyes and I latch onto the angry-looking bruise on the side of his face.

It looks much better than it did in the hospital, but it’s still a little swollen.

“How are you feeling?” I press on since he hasn’t sent me away yet.

“You look better.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still in pain,” he snaps, and I know it has nothing to do with the accident and the shooting, but everything to do with me.

“Look, I’m not going to stop showing up here. I want you to understand that I’m here for whatever you throw my way. I did a shitty thing?—”

“A ridiculously thoughtless, selfish, asshole thing,” he interrupts.

“Yes, all of that. But since you haven’t accepted my apology, I’m going to keep trying until it finally breaks through.”

“And you think sending me shit is gonna do the trick?”

“Until you get back on the ice. Then I’ll have to come up with something new. In the meantime, I’m just trying to make sure you’re taken care of since you won’t let me do it myself.”

“And you think I should trust you to take care of me?” he says.

I nod. “Yes. Because I’m a good guy who made a mistake. You know me, Jack. Don’t people deserve a second chance?”

His jaw tenses, his glare searing my insides until he pulls it away and focuses on one of the bags in my hand.

“Wait, is that…? Crumble and Whisk,” he breathes, taking a bag and breathing in deeply.

“Is that the lemon blueberry?”

“I remember you said it’s your favorite when we were at my parents’ house, and although I can’t imagine how anyone in his right mind would put those two things together?—”

“Fuck,” he mumbles.

“Mmm, that’s so good. I needed that so badly.” He backs up and nods at the rest of the bags.

“Just leave them here. I’ll grab them later.”

Then he closes the door with his right shoulder since his hand is now full.

My jaw drops, damn near hitting the floor.

Is he fucking serious right now?

I stare at the door for a long minute, anger knotting in my chest.

What the hell else can I do to get this guy to just forgive me, already?

Do I need to serenade him on the goddamn ice in front of the entire arena and ESPN worldwide viewers?

I drop the bags in front of the door and slide to the floor against the wall opposite his apartment.

I can’t just leave.

That would be giving up, and he’s worth the wait.

He has to know I won’t walk away.

He has to believe that I’m playing the long game.

My head falls forward into my hands.

I need to up my levels of persuasion, I guess.

Make him realize that?—

The door clicks and my eyes snap upward, meeting his playful grin.

“You’re still fucking here?” he says.

“Jesus, man. Play a little hard to get, yeah?”

I just sit there and laugh.

“You’re a real tool, you know that?”

He shrugs with his good arm.

“Hey, I had some of that cake. It’s fucking amazing.”

“You were gone for a minute.”

“I work fast when I’m hungry.” He pauses, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“Speaking of hungry, why don’t you get your hot little ass in here so I can eat the rest of it off you?”

I struggle to pull myself off the floor and follow Jack inside.

Unable to control myself for another second, I snake an arm around his waist and flip him around to face me.

“I love you, dick,” I say.

“What?” He cocks his head to the side.

“You love my dick?”

With a grin, I back him against a wall and crush my lips against his.

“I do love your dick.”

“Show me,” he murmurs against my mouth, tugging at my belt.

And this time when we make love, when he tells me not to let go, I say the words freely.

I won’t. Ever.

Because I know I can’t live without him.