Page 45 of Triple Power Play 3
“What are you doing?” She giggles.
Then, I clear the B and e. “There. That’s better.”
It’s left saying:Mine.
She cocks her head and smiles. “I don’t get a choice?”
“No.” I offer her my thumb for her to suck the chocolate off. She does, and my cock jerks. “I meant it when I said you were stuck with me.”
20
JACKSON
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch.” Aurora’s brows pinch, and her eyes search mine. She lowers her voice. “What is it?”
When they came back from dinner, she made a beeline for my lap. One glance and she knew. Then she glared at Reece, probably thinking he did something, or it was her date with Ethan that was bothering me. Neither could be further from the truth.
I want her and Coach to work through their issues. I want him to be a part of us, and if anything happens to me, I trust him to care for her most. My feelings toward Reece are conflicted, but as long as he protects her, I can tolerate him.
The problem is, I won’t get a wink of sleep in the bedroom. I’ll be preoccupied, listening for noises and attempting to fend off the nightmares, the flashbacks, the demons tormenting me.
Even sober, I’m fucked up. My worst nightmares were after the bottle-throwing incident—not that I regret almost killing the piece-of-shit predator, but the guilt of hurting Aurora was unbearable.
I took her to Laguna Beach to convince her not to leave me. I promised her everything, including sobriety.
Then, the guilt festered, the withdrawals kicked in, and I had horrifying nightmares. Not only the usual twisted flashbacks, but new, demented terror…
I stepped into the kitchen of my childhood home. My ears rang with the eerie echo of my heartbeat. The air was harsh, cold in my lungs. The marble tile was gleaming, and my boots smacked as I walked. I remember thinking I had to be quiet, or I’d alert someone. That someone could’ve only been Kyle, a dark, lingering presence in the back of my mind.
At my feet, I found my mother’s crumpled and broken body. I sank to the floor and pulled her into my arms. The icy touch of her skin passed through my fingertips, spreading through me like death personified, aching in my bones.
The lines between reality and illusion blurred, and when I shifted my gaze, the face that stared back at me wasn’t my mother’s. No, it was Aurora’s—her eyes lifeless, expression frozen in agony.
It felt as if my heart was ripped from my chest with a chainsaw. I woke up from clinging to her dead body in a cold sweat, gasping for air. The guttural screams from my nightmare were strangled in my throat, suffocating me.
I scrambled out of bed, went to the minibar, and downed every drop of alcohol. My promise to quit drinking lasted less than forty-eight hours.
Still, she stayed. She never confronted me, but she knew. I hated myself, but she continued to love me. The more she did, the greater the self-loathing and guilt consumed me, the worse I treated her.
I already fear the nightmares, and I can’t put her through that again. They can enjoy the bedroom while I lie awake on the couch.
Instead, she sits on my lap and tells me about tomorrow. Her touch brings me peace and chases away that numb, icysensation. My thoughts slow when she’s talking to me, drowning out the chaos in my mind.
“One day at a time.” She runs her fingers through my hair. “In the morning, we’re packing up in New York and heading home.” She gives me a big, bright smile. “Next week, we have a baby appointment and Thanksgiving. I need you to make everything. Unless you want me to try…”
She knows damn well I don’t want her to cook.
“No. I got it. It’ll be our first Thanksgiving in our first house. It has to be epic.”
“It will be,” she says with certainty. “Ethan said we can have Gram over for dinner, so we’ll have an extra.”
My brows shoot up. “Seriously?”
“Yup.” She grins, excited. “You can invite Grant and Kill. You have a home game on Wednesday. I’ll get everything ready if you give me a list.”
“I got it.”
“I’ll help.”
