Page 59 of Cross Check Daddies
I tell him yes just to see Brooke’s reaction. She chokes on her soda.
Later, after Jackson starts nodding off in the booth with a slice of crust still in his hand, Brooke reaches out, not touching but close enough that her presence feels steadying.
“You’re good with him,” she says.
“I like kids.”
“You want any?”
“Wanted,” I say. “Didn’t work out.”
She doesn’t flinch, just waits.
“I was almost married once. Bad timing,” Then I tell her all about the woman who almost broke not just me but my entire career.
She shifts slightly, the atmosphere between us turning quieter.
“I knew you played, but…”
“I had a rep. Hothead. Talented, but volatile. Never broke laws, just sticks, and made execs nervous. Coaching gave me a second chance.”
She studies me for a long second. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Thanks for not bolting.”
She smiles a little. “You want to keep talking?”
I nod.
“You can come over,” she says. “Jackson’s going to pass out as soon as we walk in.”
I don’t hesitate. “Yeah. I want that.”
And I do. Not just the couch talk or the low lights or the possibility of her in something soft and loose. I want to sit on the other side of a night that isn’t about fixing everything or falling apart.
I want her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ace
She slips backinto the living room, barefoot, quiet, her sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder again. Her hair’s pulled into something lazy, strands falling around her face.
She looks soft. Undone in the kind of way that makes you want to wrap your arms around her and just stay there.
I’m on the couch, legs spread, head tilted back against the cushion. The TV’s playing something we’re not watching, the light flickering low against the walls. When she walks in, I hold out my hand.
She takes it.
I pull her into my lap, her knees settling on either side of my thighs. Her mouth is right there, too close not to kiss. So, I do. My hands slide up her sides, her breath catches, and when my tongue brushes against hers, she lets out this low moan that tightens every muscle in my body.
I kiss her slowly. Then pull back, eyes on hers.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About wanting time. Space to process everything. I want to know... all of it.”
She looks startled, then shy. Like she hadn’t expected me to ask again. Her eyes drop to my shirt. Her fingers play with the hem. I kiss her again, gently this time.
“Just tell me,” I whisper against her mouth. “No filter.”
