Page 92 of The Coach

Kyle stops laughing.

My breath catches.

Kyle forces another chuckle, but it’s shaky now. “Alright, Jesus. No need to be a psycho.”

Kyle steps back, hands up. “See you around, Ivy.”

Jackson’s muscles are so goddamn tight I can feel the energy rolling off of him.

The door closes.

Silence.

I exhale shakily, turning to face Jackson.

“That was so weird. He doesn’t usually come talk to me. I’ve told him so many times to leave me alone, but…anyways, thanks for telling him even though I know you weren’t serious.”

“You think I’m joking?”

I stare at him.

I don’t.

And that terrifies me.

But even more?

I don’t hate it.

The air in the apartment still feels thick, charged from Kyle’s uninvited visit.

Jackson’s hands are on his hips, his jaw tight, his eyes still stormy from whatever dark thoughts are running through his head.

I sigh, trying to shake off the moment. “Jackson, it’s fine. I can handle myself.”

His head whips toward me, disbelieving. “What kind of psycho shows up unannounced?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

I shift on my feet. “He’s…He never really got over me. I don’t know. I’m not going to say he’s harmless, but I’m also not going to let him be on my mind all the time. Okay?”

Jackson’s eyes flash. “Well, I’m sure as hell not okay with this, no. Has he done that when I’m not here?”

Before I can respond, he moves in closer—so close I can feel his warmth, the barely-restrained frustration radiating off of him.

“No. He hasn’t. That was weird.”

His fingers find my chin, my throat, tilting my head up gently but firmly.

And damn him—it shouldn’t feel this good.

His voice is deep, rough, unshakable.

“You’re carrying my baby.” His thumb brushes along my jaw, slow, smooth. “But that’s not the only reason why I wouldn’t be okay if something happened to you.”

My breath catches.

His blue eyes pin me in place, holding me there like he needs me to hear every damn word he says.

“I care about you, Ivy. I still do.” His grip tightens slightly, just for a second, before relaxing. “I know it was just one night, four months ago. I know we lost the momentum of whatever that could have been.” He swallows, his voice dropping even lower. “But I care about you. Understand?”

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