Page 27

TWENTY-SIX

JACK

NOVEMBER

“I don’t think there’s anything left, sweetie,” Mara said to Hazel. Gabi’d brought Mara home from the hospital about an hour earlier. I was hitting the easy button and letting the kids watch a movie.

Mara was trying to breastfeed, and I say ‘trying’ because it wasn’t going well.

“You need a snack, Mar?” I offered.

Mara ignored that. “I think I’m all dried up from the medicines.”

Hazel was fussing in between attempts. “I’m sorry, baby,” Mara tried as Hazel swatted at her.

Eventually, Hazel gave up and Mara pulled her up to her shoulder as she fussed. She bounced Hazel and tried to comfort her with hushed words, but it wasn’t helping.

Then I saw it, the thing I feared. A tear streaked down Mara’s cheek, her emotional dam about to burst.

What the fuck was I supposed to do? I knew what to do when my kids cried, or at least I tried. I knew why Mara was frustrated and I hated that I couldn’t make it better. She had to be devastated. She’d said that thing about letting her kids choose when they were done, but this time, the choice had been taken from them. I had to figure out some way to help.

“I’ll get you both a snack,” I said, rising from the couch.

“Don’t.” Mara’s dark voice surprised me.

“O . . . kay,” I said, wondering what the fuck I did wrong. More tears streaked down Mara’s cheeks, her wet lashes splayed out on them. Maybe it wasn’t about me at all.

I stepped to stand next to her, then knelt in front of her. Maybe if we were closer, she’d be comfortable talking to me. I was right.

“I’m afraid to eat. I don’t want to react again.”

I squeezed her knee. “Crackers?”

Mara opened her eyes and held back more tears. “Okay.”

I nodded and rose, fixing a kids bowl of crackers for Hazel and a plate for Mara. Instead of sitting on the other end of the couch, I sat back down next to them, so close our outer thighs touched. I didn’t really know what to say, so I just sat with the cracker plate in my lap. After Mara ate a couple and Hazel dozed off on her shoulder, a warm hand met mine.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

I laced my fingers with hers, running my thumb over her hand. “Anytime.”

The kids were in bed and Mara was in the shower while I made her a grilled cheese. After we got the kids settled, I managed to get her to admit she was hungry, and she decided the sandwich was one of the least offensive things she could eat.

Mara shuffled into the kitchen in bare feet, damp hair, and sweats. “Smells good.”

I flicked my head toward the bar. “Sit.”

“Back to monosyllabic Jack,” she joked.

I rolled my eyes. “Brat.”

She smirked. “If I recall correctly, you were the brat.”

I pulled the sandwiches off the stove and turned it off, plated them, and slide her plate in front of her. I struggled to find my words. “I . . . am not sure how to feel about what we did that night.”

Mara worked around her bite. “In what way?”

“I’ve never . . . had anyone talk to me like that.”

Mara nodded. I searched her face for any sign that she was going to humiliate me, but she was taking me seriously. “Did you like it?”

I pulled at my hair, staring at my feet where I still stood at the counter. “Is it weird if I did?”

“Not at all,” Mara said. “There’s nothing wrong with something that feels good.”

Shame washed over me. A series of memories came flooding in from my relationship with Sydney. She humiliated me, but in a different way. She made fun of me for not being as dominant as she wanted. Told me I was weak and not a man. It got to a point where I could hardly talk when we had sex, afraid she’d weaponize anything I said. I just tried to do what she wanted. I got a lot of blowjobs because she said that’s what a real man should want.

And yeah, they’re great. But I also wanted to serve her. She just wouldn’t let me.

In fact, when I told her I wanted a divorce, she announced all those things to a room full of my friends. That was a real low moment. My friends didn’t speak a word about it. Hell, they probably didn’t believe her given my hockey reputation.

When Mara degraded me, though, it felt good. She was giving me something I needed, something to rebel against. She wasn’t judging me for it. She was helping me. I’m not sure how she saw that in me, but it came so naturally.

I wanted more of it, but I was afraid to ask for it.

I’d zoned out for so long that Mara was almost done with her sandwich, so I scarfed mine down. I brought my focus back to Mara. It was such a relief to have her back in front of me, not passing out, not getting sick, in a place where I could support her.

“Dishwasher duty’s mine,” I said, snatching her plate.

I loved having her back in my house, but something about the whole interaction made my house slippers feel full of lead. This wasn’t permanent. She was a guest, not a permanent companion.

Mara stood and rounded the counter, resting one hand against it and crossing one leg at the ankle. “So, I had a lot of time to think.”

I blinked and clenched my teeth together. I’d have asked what she was talking about, but I damn well knew what it meant. “Yeah?”

Mara licked and bit her bottom lip. “And I think even though you can’t promise love, we should get married.”

I almost dropped the plate in my hand, letting it clatter to the countertop as I rushed toward her. “Thank god.”

I wrapped Mara up in my arms, and she hugged me back just as hard. She giggled. “Is this how you treat all the nannies you hire?”

I craned my neck to look down at her in my arms. “Not nanny. You’re my wife.”

Mara tipped her head from side to side. “Technically it’s fiancée.”

I rolled my eyes. “I am so sick of you already.”

“Liar,” Mara whispered against my lips with mischievous eyes. “You can’t get enough of me.”

She rose on her toes and pulled me down to her. This time, she wasn’t in a hospital bed. I could really feel her, letting my hands grip her waist, then roving down to her luscious hips. She was more brazen, gripping a fistful of my ass in a way that had me rocking against her.

I pulled away, breathless. “And you’re not doing it because you feel like you have to because of your job?”

“Shut up or I’ll change my mind,” she said, nibbling on my neck.

“Fuck me, that feels good.” I shook away from the haze. “But you’re sure?”

“Ask me one more time and I’m bending you over this counter and spanking the shit out of you.”

My mouth fell open and my eyes went wide. “Mara!”

“Surprised how much you like it?” she asked with a wicked grin.

“You’re fuckin’ dirty,” I rasped, coming in for another kiss.

This one was raw. Filthy. Nasty. Teeth and tongues and bites and pressing into each other. Mara grunted and then there was . . . a giggle?