Chapter Nineteen
MILLER
The kid’s face reminded me of mine when I lost my mom. His eyes—they were so sad, and for him to ask a complete stranger, one he looked up to, if he was going to make it? God, it almost killed me.
It brought back memories of not wanting to live—of wanting to go to sleep and never wake up so I could be with my mom. But then I’d go to practice and remember all the games she went to and all the times she supported me—and I went on. Because of her. Because football wasn’t just a distraction anymore, no, it had turned into this need—because when I played I was closer to her. My mom’s death taught me that the future was never certain.
To see a little boy with that same look.
At his age.
Damn, the kid needed hope, just like I’d needed football.
Pain slashed through me.
Raw.
Pain.
The emptiness of losing my mom.
And then Emerson.
The pain of losing our child that I hadn’t even known existed.
Physical pain I could deal with, but emotional pain? Sometimes I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle it, I sure as hell didn’t handle it well. All I had to do was take one look at Kinsey and it was obvious that I wasn’t a fan of putting myself in any position to feel anything like loving and losing again.
And yet.
I was currently checking us both into a hotel.
Separate rooms.
That had an adjoining door, because for some reason the idea of her being by herself at any point while she went through her father’s illness made me sick to my stomach.
“Home sweet home!” I tossed one of my bags onto the bed and walked into the adjoining room, where Kinsey was busy tossing her stuff all over the room so it looked like she’d been staying there for more than ten minutes.
“How does it look?” She crossed her arms and examined her handiwork. Shoes were piled in the corner, clothes hung off one of the chairs, and a bra was strategically placed on the TV. Nice.
“It looks like a tornado swept through and decided to strip your clothes just so I could see you naked one more time before your brother ruins my life.” I shrugged. “So yeah, pretty good.”
She sighed. “Good.”
“The bra’s a nice touch.” I picked it up and closed my eyes, then purposefully moaned a few times before she snatched it out of my hands and swatted me with it.
“This isn’t playtime! I have to focus. You know, that whole keeping-you-alive thing.”
“We’re adults,” I pointed out. “Do you really think he’d be pissed enough to kill me? Honestly?”
She froze, dropped the bra on the bed, and hung her head, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder while she visibly trembled. “Yeah. I do. You’re a football player.”
“So he’d be more pissed about me being a football player? That makes no sense. Kins, you’re old enough to make your own decisions.”
She lifted that one shoulder, as more hair spilled back. “Yeah, I know that. He even knows that. He just . . . he doesn’t want to see me hurt.”
“Do you think I’d hurt you?” It was out before I could stop it.
She turned around, her eyes sad. “You already did.”
“And you think I’m dumb enough to repeat the mistake?”
“It has nothing to do with brain cells, Miller, otherwise you would have already been out of the running.” She winked. “It has everything to do with your ability to move past whatever you need to move past. You’re the one that said you aren’t even sure you have possession of your own heart, that’s not really the kind of risk most girls want to take. I mean you’re basically telling me that you’re unable to commit, and sorry to break it to you, but most girls want commitment.”
I nodded, unhappy with the direction of the conversation, and desperately needing to do something about it, like kiss all the doubt from her mouth and get her naked.
We would be good together.
More than good.
I was at war with myself, wanting to prove to her how good it could be while simultaneously telling myself that it could be bad, there were too many uncontrollable factors.
“Damn it, Kins.” I groaned, tired of my own thought process. “What if I want to try?”
“What if try isn’t good enough?” she fired back.
A knock sounded on the door. I froze. She froze.
I ran to the adjoining door for my room. Locked. Shit. I’d forgotten my key.
“Kins!” Jax’s voice sounded. “It’s me, do you have someone in there?”
“No!” Kins yelled, “I, uh, it’s um . . . TV is so loud, hold on!”
She shoved me into the bathroom and then hissed, “Get in the shower.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. “Kins, this is ridiculous.”
“Get in!” Tears welled in her eyes. “Please?”
Tears were my downfall, especially when they came from a girl so strong, a girl who rarely let people see the tender side of her. I’d known her over a year and every day she impressed me with her strength. “Can’t believe I’m hiding in the bathroom from your brother,” I muttered, stepping in the tub and pulling the curtain across to shield myself. “If he comes in here for any reason other than taking a piss, I’m out!”
“Fine!” The door slammed after her as she ran out of the bathroom and said a bit too loudly, “Jax!”
“Why are you yelling my name?” He sounded amused. “I mean, the yelling I expected, but you seem genuinely excited to chat.”
“Well, I am.” She giggled.
Ah, hell, we were screwed. The worst liar in the history of liars was trying to bullshit a guy who read body language for a living. Great.
“You sure you’re okay?” Jax asked, concern laced in his voice. “Are you taking all your medication and getting enough sleep?”
Medication? The hell? What kind of medication was she taking? And why, after two weeks of basically living with her, had I not clued in on it? Angry, I clenched the curtain with my fingers, ready to jerk it off the damn rail.
“I’m not stupid,” she said in a harsh voice. “Okay, speak.”
“I’m sorry,” he blurted.
My eyebrows shot up—color me impressed, two apologies in one day. I released the curtain and hunkered down in the tub. I tried to get comfortable, but my body was so massive that I had to hug my knees to even fit, let alone sit in the small space without accidently hanging myself by the same curtain I’d just been mutilating.
“I know you are.” Her voice was sad. “I know you’ve been stressed. I just . . .” Another sigh. Damn it, I needed to get closer. “You can’t fix everything. You can’t save everyone.”
He was quiet.
“Jax, you know that, right? You aren’t Captain America.”
“But that’s just it. I’ve always been able to fix things. I’ve always been your hero, just like Dad, and I failed. I honestly thought getting you away from everything would help, that if you got sick you’d never forgive me.”
Sick?
Like the flu? A prickling sensation pinged the back of my neck as I waited for more information.
I kept listening. Even though something told me I shouldn’t.
“Let’s focus on Dad. On us. Not the past.”
The same damn thing she’d said to me.
What the hell was so horrible about her past? Other than Anderson?
“Just like that?” He didn’t sound convinced. Hell, I wasn’t convinced. Push her, man! Make her talk! Open up! You’re an NFL quarterback, for shit’s sake! Man up!
“Jax . . .”
“Right.” His voice softened, and maybe it was my imagination, but he sounded terrified. “I know we both have practice tomorrow so I’ll be around if Anderson gives you shit . . .” He sighed. “I noticed things are going great with Miller. Too great, if you ask me. Mind telling me why he keeps kissing you?”
“Because I’m irresistible.”
I smirked at her teasing tone. Damn right she was.
I barely held my laugh in when he cursed. God, just thinking about her writhing against me had me ready to turn on the cold water and let it hit me for a good ten minutes.
“You swore you’d never date a football player after Anderson.” Interesting. “You love football, hate the players.” Well, damn. “Anderson tried to break your spirit, Kins. I know Miller is different, but remember, this whole fake-dating scenario is to keep you safe. This isn’t . . . it’s not real, Kins.”
Cock-blocking son of a bitch.
“I know.” Her voice was small. I hated that defeated tone. “I know that, okay?”
“Miller’s a good guy.” That was better. “But he’s young.” The hell? I was of legal drinking age and had been forced to grow up more than pricks twice my age! “He’s still not over Em.”
I was going to kill him.
With my bare hands.
“Oh.” Her answer as she cleared her throat.
I was so tempted to launch myself out of that tub that my fingers went numb clenching the ceramic.
“They had a history, you know that.”
“I know.”
God, he was just making it worse.
“He’s a good actor.”
Maybe I’d just run him over with my car instead? The idea had merit. Bare hands, I needed hands to catch balls.
“Look, it’s best you know. The only reason I chose him is because I know that he won’t touch you when he’s still torn up over the past, and maybe he thinks he’s fine, but I truly don’t think he’s had closure in that relationship. And to bring you into the middle of it would be pretty shitty. So yeah, I trust him not to hurt you, because I don’t think he’s enough of an asshole to do something like sleep with you and then bail.”
She sucked in a breath.
Blood roared in my ears.
Pounded through my veins.
I squeezed my eyes shut and muttered a curse while a deafening silence spread out for what felt like an eternity.
“You’re right,” she whispered in a small voice. “I don’t know what I was thinking . . . I just . . . got caught up.” No! I was so damn tempted to run out of the bathroom, to explain everything to her, to him, to ask for her forgiveness even when I didn’t deserve it.
“You’re beautiful,” Jax said with a hint of agony in his voice. “Look, when the season’s in full swing and we know what kind of battle we’ll have with Anderson playing—we should maybe . . . I don’t know, find you a guy worth dating.”
I was that guy, damn it.
Me.
Not some faceless dick who wanted to taste what was mine. A primitive growl rose from my throat.
“Sure.” Kinsey actually agreed? The hell! “Miller and I will just lay low until then.”
“It’s for the best,” Jax said in a hollow voice. “Especially if you’re developing feelings for him, Kins. That won’t end well.”
I was going to murder the son of a bitch with my bare hands. He didn’t know shit about me. He just thought he did. Micromanaging pain in my ass!
Even if he was right.
No.
I shoved the thought away.
I was completely over Em.
We’d had closure. The only reason she was still in my life was because we’d been best friends—still were, to an extent. But now that she had Sanchez, I’d done the only thing that made sense. I’d bowed out in order to give them time.
How the hell did that make me the bad guy?
“You look pale,” Kinsey pointed out. “Everything okay, Jax?”
“You mean other than the fact that Dad’s dying, Anderson’s a pain in my ass, and Miller had his tongue down your throat earlier? Nope, can’t think of a thing!”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .” She sighed. They both fell silent again. I strained to hear anything—even just her breathing would have been nice. Instead, nothing.
“Love you, sis.” Jax sighed. “You sure you don’t want to come back to the apartment?”
“Soon.” Like hell she was. “I have the room for a few more . . . days.”
“Love you.”
The door closed.
I kept sitting in the bathtub, thinking, wondering . . . when the curtain was jerked back I didn’t need to ask what Kinsey was thinking, it was written all over her face.
Hurt.
Sadness.
Anger.
“No.” It was the first word I was able to blurt.
She frowned, releasing the curtain and crossing her arms. “No? No, what?”
“You’re not going on some sick blind date with a sociopath.”
“Who says only sociopaths are attracted to me?”
I sneered.
She held up her hands. “Whatever, I’m tired.”
“Kins, hold up.” I nearly broke the towel rack in an effort to get out of the tub. By the time my massive body was freed, she was already out of the bathroom and back in the bedroom, turning on the TV and hugging a pillow on the bed.
With a sigh, I made my way over to her and sat.
She scooted over.
I followed.
With a huff she glared. “What do you want?”
“You,” I whispered. “Just you.”
She gulped, and looked down at the remote control, her fingers pale against the black and gray buttons. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.” A smile formed across her lips. “Just friends.”
“Okay.”
Her head jerked to attention.
I cupped her face with my hands and whispered across her lips, “Just friends it is.”
The remote dropped from her hand onto the mattress and then she was straddling me, her small body writhing against mine like she’d been waiting years to taste my flavor on her tongue.
“I’m not sharing you,” I murmured down her neck. “Not now, not ever. Tell him no.”
She grinned, deepening the kiss. “You getting possessive?”
“Yes,” I growled, my blood heating to a painful degree. “I am, tell Jax no.”
“Or what?”
I spanked her on the ass with my right hand, a lingering sting slammed into my fingertips. “Sorry, I slipped.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Slipped, my ass.”
“It’s a nice ass.” I smacked it again.
She squealed and then tried to pin me to the bed. Amused, I gripped her hands in mine while she struggled for a good five minutes and then sagged against me.
“You tire yourself out, Kins?”
“You’re huge.”
“I know.”
She slugged my shoulder. “Stop taking everything sexually.”
I ground my hips against her. “Then stop encouraging me.”
Kins’s eyes dropped to my mouth. “Tell me something that’s true . . .”
“I hate hippos.”
“Something I can’t google.” She crossed her arms.
My eyes searched hers, they were always doing that, like they were trying to find reasons for my reaction to her. Because I had beautiful women surrounding me on a daily basis, but for some reason, this one, this off-limits little firecracker—had me. And I was powerless to stop my descent into hell, the fires licked my face, and still, I leaned forward, I stole kisses with the knowledge that it wouldn’t end well. How could it? When I didn’t know what the hell I was doing? How could it, when her brother would hate me forever?
“I can’t take it back.”
“Take what back?” She linked her fingers in mine, our palms pressed together while I drew another languid kiss from her mouth.
“Vegas,” I whispered. “I’m not sorry. I won’t take it back. I’d do it again, and again, and again. I can’t decide if that makes me selfish or just very addicted to something that I know will end up being very hard to quit.”
“My turn,” Kinsey announced. She lowered her mouth to my ear and whispered, “I don’t want you to quit me.”
“I should.”
“I know.”
“More truth . . .” I hugged her close to me. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t.”
“You make it sound easy,” I whispered with a ragged breath. My heart squeezed. God, I would do anything for her. It was terrifying. “Like breathing.”
“Miller, that’s how it should be. Have you ever thought that maybe the person making it hard—is you?”
I gulped and then licked my lips. “I want to change my first answer.”
She frowned. “About the hippos?”
“I hate hippos, but my greatest fear is losing someone I care about, someone I love—having them one day and losing them the next. And it seems to be a thing with me, losing what’s most important—and being the only one left behind.”
There, I’d said it.
I’d never admitted that out loud.
I wasn’t sure I wanted the words floating between us. In fact, I was pretty damn sure I wanted to pull them all back, suck them into my mouth, and hold my breath until I turned blue.
Kinsey locked eyes with me, and then very slowly, peeled off her T-shirt and tossed it to the side of the bed.
My breath hitched, I wasn’t able to move, and it hurt like hell to breathe. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you conquer your fear,” she whispered gruffly before taking my mouth in hers, tangling her hands in my shirt and jerking it off my head.
“It may take more than once.” I flipped her onto her back.
She grinned up at me. “Good.”