Page 40
EIGHTEEN
W hen I slam the back door shut behind me, I lean against it to catch my breath.
I jogged all the way home from the most boring class in existence, dying to get back to my man.
I already missed classes yesterday and he wouldn’t let me miss another.
But the very insistent, very urgent need to get upstairs to Jace nearly made me skip again anyway.
Because fuck, I missed him. Even though it’s only been a couple of hours, being apart still sucks.
And while that need is burning strong in my chest, there’s also a rising wave of panic in my gut, because I’m praying like hell that he got to the package before any of the nosy fuckers here got their hands on it and opened it.
They have a habit of doing that. Zero boundaries exist in this damn house. And this particular delivery is one solely intended for him and me.
I check the tracker app again, and yep—there it is, in bold letters: Delivered.
I drop my backpack next to the coatrack, kick off my shoes, and file into the kitchen, just as my phone buzzes with a message from my one and only. I let out a relieved sigh when I read it.
Jace: Intercepted. Lam was already opening it.
I snort. Wouldn’t have expected otherwise. It would surprise me if the guy didn’t try sniffing the box too, just out of pure dumb curiosity. I swear, I’m going to label things as radioactive just to keep them out of reach.
After grabbing two bottles of Vitamin Water, a couple of granola bars for myself, and a bag of pretzels for Jace, I veer around the corner and immediately halt in my tracks.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have pictured Ev behind a damn console, yet here he is, gaming like his life depends on it, his broad shoulders hunched forward.
And he’s not alone. Tuck, Miles, and Raf are all crowded around him, cheering him on as he’s obliterating Lamar, according to the stats.
“Really? Does no one have class anymore these days?” I deadpan.
“We’re all skipping the last lecture,” Tuck says, eyes still on the screen. “If we want to be on time in LA, we have to leave soon.”
“Jodie’s getting nervous,” Ev adds, calmly aiming down the sight at poor Lamar sprinting between two buildings. “You’ve got twenty to freshen up.”
I almost want to utter a yes, sir again, but I’d never hear the end of it if Jace caught wind of that. Not after last time.
“He’s fucking good at this. Did you know that?
” Rafa says, smile broad, stars in his damn eyes as they flick between Ev and the screen.
He’s been like that ever since Ev and Jace showed up the day before yesterday.
Tuck told me it took them two hours to stop his ranting about Jace when I went upstairs.
And it took multiple bribes to make sure he kept his damn mouth shut to the rest of the team.
Yup. No one knows Jace is here. And for now, we’re keeping it that way. He desperately needs his rest. We need the rest. The last eight months wrecked him, wrecked us , and the disaster that was the last show? Didn’t help.
So we’re keeping it under wraps, letting him breathe, letting him be . As far as the outside world’s concerned, he’s still holed up on that stupid bus.
The guys all let out a chorus of shouts just as Lam yells, “What the fuck, man!”
Guess Ev nuked him. I suppose Jace wasn’t the only one who got bored out of his mind on those endless drives.
Shaking my head with a half-smile, I take a step back toward the stairs.
“Remember. Twenty minutes,” Ev calls without looking away from the screen. “No shenanigans.”
I salute him and head upstairs with my snack stash. When I open my bedroom door, I freeze for a second and fucking exhale.
Jace is sitting up against my headboard, my laptop balanced on his knees, looking up at me with a smile so genuine it knocks the fucking wind out of me.
The sadness, sorrow, and strain still cling to the edges of him, but it’s tucked behind something softer now.
Safer. Like he’s letting himself believe again that we’ll be okay.
I swear my heart skips a fucking beat every time I see him, every time my eyes land on him, which has been a lot these past few days.
He’s barely left my side, like we’re both too scared to let go again.
Yesterday, we didn’t even leave the house.
We slept in, stayed wrapped around each other in my bed, tangled up in warmth and skin and the kind of silence that says everything.
We didn’t do a damn thing except exist together, breathe each other in like we’d been starving.
I skipped class.
Skipped practice.
Skipped the world.
All I did was take care of my man. Just like he took care of me. Not with grand gestures or big words, but by being here. Home. By taking up space in my life again; in my bed, in my arms, where he fucking belongs.
But still… some part of me can’t wrap my head around it. That he’s really here. That this, us , together , isn’t just a dream I’ve woken up from too many times before.
He’s in my room. On my bed. Wearing a pair of my old joggers and a beat-up Tigers shirt that is just slightly too big on his frame, even though I know we’ve got boxes of his own damn stuff collecting dust in the attic.
Stuff and clothing he left behind when they went on tour.
Stuff he didn’t take with him when he moved out of his and Missy’s apartment.
It feels like another life. Like a version of us I barely recognize anymore.
And now that he’s here, now that I have him back, I know one thing with every damn part of me: I’m never letting him go again. This was the last time we’ll be apart for this long. I’ll make it my mission, my fucking purpose, to keep him close. To keep us whole .
He’s a goddamn masterpiece. His blonde hair pushed back just the way I like it, those ridiculous bright-gray eyes glinting again with mischief and meaning, and that smirk, that damn smirk full of mischief, is back on his lips like it never left.
And fuck, I missed him so badly it still hurts like a motherfucker. I press a hand over my chest, like I can hold it all in, everything that’s swelling inside me, everything that’s threatening to spill over.
Then I follow his gaze and the amused glint inside it… Because there, lying neatly at his bare feet, is the box.
The box I absolutely did not want anyone else in this house to touch.
When our eyes meet, Jace’s lips twitch with barely concealed laughter. He cocks one brow, like he’s been waiting for this moment, eyes glinting with mischief that’s as familiar as it is infuriating. There’s an unmistakable spark at the corners of his mouth. He knows. Of course he knows.
“Hello, handsome,” he drawls, throwing in a wink for good measure. “Your package has arrived. Well, besides this one, of course.” His free hand slides under the edge of his laptop, suggestive as hell, and that smirk of his blooms into something downright filthy.
There he is. My Jace. It’s good to see him like this again.
Teasing, playful, just a little too pleased with himself.
Because fuck, I hate how I found him the other night.
When he wasn’t smiling, when he wasn’t him .
When he was shaking and pale and barely holding it together, broken in a way I never want to witness again.
And yeah, it still hurts. Hurts like hell that his lips ever touched someone else’s.
That there’s a video I never wanted to see burned into my memory.
But I’m shoving that shit into the farthest, darkest corner of my mind, locking it behind steel doors and launching the key straight into the goddamn ocean.
He’s here now . With me. He chose me. He’ll always choose me. He pushed.
And I’ll choose him, again and again and again, until there’s no more choosing left to do.
I drop the snacks on my desk, scoop up the box, and settle beside him.
I hand it over and press a soft kiss to his cheek, my chest tightening with something fierce and so damn warm.
Shit. The fact that I can even kiss him after all this time still knocks the wind out of me.
Still feels like a damn gift I don’t ever want to take for granted. Not anymore.
Of course, the smug fucker turns his head at the last second so I graze his lips instead.
Instantly, his hand finds the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
His mouth softens, deepens the kiss with a damn flick of his tongue, and it rips a groan from me almost on impact, the sound needy, low and desperate.
I could never tire of this. Of him. How he ever thought I’d end our relationship is beyond me. Because I couldn’t. I could never walk away from something this perfect. This right .
Yeah, it hurt. It hurt like hell. But he didn’t hurt me. He wasn’t the cause. I know with everything I am that he’ll never be the reason I fall apart. He’s the reason I’ll hold it together. He’s not my wound. He’s my fucking cure .
When I finally pull back, he bites down on my lip like he’s not ready to let go, and it makes my grin stretch so wide it crashes right into his.
“Hi baby.”
He groans when I dive in again, slower this time, like we’ve got forever. I tug his bottom lip between my teeth on the way out, just to hear that noise again. That deep, helpless sound he only makes for me.
His eyes catch mine, sparkling up at me, all bright and breathless, and it floors me every damn time. “God,” he murmurs, voice rough. “I will never get used to that.”
I drag my thumb across his cheekbone, holding his gaze for a second too long. Because fuck , he’s beautiful. And he’s mine .
He presses one last kiss to my mouth, just a soft stamp of his lips, before leaning back against the headboard. The box with the tape already half ripped off now resting in his lap, his laptop forgotten beside him.
He glances up at me with a grin as he gives the package a little shake, something inside rattling faintly.
Table of Contents
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- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40 (Reading here)
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49