Page 56 of Triple Power Play 3
“Babe.”
“Babe.”
“Aurora,” says a raspy, pained voice.
Jax.
“Hmm?” I mumble, still trapped in the fog of sleep.
Ethan lifts a shoulder under me. “What’s wrong?”
“Migraine.” Jax takes a few labored breaths, his face buried in the pillows. “I need meds.”
That wakes me fully, and I scramble off the bed. “Where?”
“Closet. Black bag.”
It’s dark, we’re at our new place in Santa Monica, and I don’t know this room. We’ve barely settled in. We were all tired and miserable between packing the SUV in the snow, saying goodbye, the six-hour flight, and the time change. Then, after we landed, Jax and Reece disagreed over who was driving.
Jax hired someone, and Reece wasn’t comfortable with an unvetted person knowing our location. Jax argued anyone could find our address, that the house was gated, and the Viking was being paranoid. Reece scoffed and said that was ironic.
In truth, my husband is stressed. The closer we got to LA, the more his knee bounced and he tugged at his hair. This migraine is likely a result of tension and lack of sleep.
I extend my hands in front of me and locate the wall. I move forward, feeling my way until I come upon the entrance to the walk-in closet.
“Babe, I have to turn on the light.”
He makes a smothered noise.
I hit the switch, and the room fills with light. I blink to allow my eyes to adjust and spot his leather bag on the far side of the closet. I riffle through the backpack and find four bottles of pills. None have labels that specify headaches, migraines, or anything besides the name and strength.
When I return, Ethan is sitting against the headboard, massaging the base of Jackson’s skull, and I’m jealous. I feel a headache coming on in the future.
“Which med?” I ask, gently.
Jax holds a pillow over his face with his forearm, even though the light from the closet hardly reaches the bed. “I need two. They don’t say?”
I reread them to be sure. “No.”
“Fuck,” he curses.
Ethan grabs his phone. “I’ll text Doc.”
“Reece will know. He’s a medic.” I’m already out the door.
Soft baseboard lights illuminate the hallway. Opposite the primary bedroom is the nursery, followed by a guest room Ethan wants to use as his office.
Reece’s apartment is across the house. It’s adorable, with a double-sided fireplace and a reading nook. I could live happily on his side alone. It has a separate entrance, a patio, and access to the pool and beach.
I knock on his door. It doesn’t take long for him to answer, and suddenly, I’m staring at a hard, inked body without a stitch of unmarked skin, and holy shit… “You have piercings?”
My face heats. Did I say that out loud?
He chuckles, a deep, husky sound full of sleep. “Angel, you’re lucky I’m wearing pants.”
My gaze falls on gray sweatpants then immediately darts up. Nope. Not going there.
Another throaty chuckle. “What are you doing here, princess?”
