Page 94 of The Coach

I narrow my eyes, trying to ignore the stupid flutter in my chest. “This is some weird caveman provider instinct, isn’t it?”

He smirks. Doesn’t deny it.

I sigh, relenting. “Fine. I’m a Reese’s Pieces girl. Basic, I know.”

Jackson grins like he just unlocked a critical piece of information. “Noted.”

We snack together in comfortable silence, standing in my tiny kitchen.

It’s stupid. Too easy. But… I like it.

Way more than I should.

Later, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, sleep refusing to come.

It’s too quiet.

Or maybe it’s too much knowing he’s here.

I chew my lip, debating for a solid thirty seconds before finally calling out into the dark, where Jackson is sleeping on the couch.

“Hey, Jackson.”

A pause.

Then—his voice, deep and immediately awake.

“Yeah?”

He’s there in an instant.

Standing in my doorway, brows drawn together in concern. “You okay?”

“Oh. Yeah.” I hesitate, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “I was just going to say… if you want to sleep in my bed…you can cuddle. I’ll allow it.”

The silence stretches.

I can barely make out his face in the dim light, but I swear his lips curve at the edges.

“Cuddle, huh?”

I shrug, trying to play it cool even though my heart is slamming against my ribs.

Jackson exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

Then—he moves.

And when he slides into bed beside me, his body warm, solid, too damn big for my mattress?—

I don’t regret it.

Not even a little bit.

I wake up to warmth.

And it’s not the kind that comes from blankets or the cozy morning light streaming through my blinds.

It’s Jackson.

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