Page 2 of Dominated By Love

“Does that mean yes?” he asked, stretching his eyes as his hope bloomed.

“It means if you can get home and take a shower before I get too tired to drop you off, you can go.”

Without another word, Jaylen Jr. took off for the locker room to grab his bag. I took that as an opportunity to thank KD again for coming. I didn’t even know he was in town let alone that he would show up to my son’s rec basketball game. I didn’t remember mentioning it to him, but maybe Supreme did.

“What are you doing in Jade Harbor? You and my dad recruiting players off rec league teams now?” I asked, turning to face him. That made him chuckle. He shook his head as he settled into an easy smile.

“I had a few things to take care of out this way. I saw you posting something about JJ’s game and decided to stop by.”

“Well, thank you for coming. Like I said, his dad couldn’t make it, so I’m glad you showed.”

“You’re welcome. I won’t hold you too long since y’all got a sleepover to get ready for. I know you gotta get home and all that. It was good to see you, Sage,” he said, holding my gaze.

I had to swallow to keep myself from reacting to him. His presence was enough. I didn’t need him looking at me like that. The warmth swirling in my belly was the reason I wanted to avoid him. He was too sexy, too charming, too damn much. I didn’t want to make things awkward, so instead of hiding from him, I kept my emotions at bay.

“You too,” I answered quietly.

He nodded before turning to walk away. I hated myself for watching until KD disappeared through the double doors. Why did he insist on always finding his way to me?

By ten, I had dropped JJ off to the Conners, stopped by to get a burger and a shake, showered, and fallen into bed with said burger and shake in hand. The tiny ache in the center of my chest was 100 percent related to my no-show boyfriend.

I held my breath as I scrolled through the internet for any news of a wreck or plane crashes. Just as I already knew, all flights had landed on time, and there were no significant traffic jams in our area. I called Jaylen again before leaving a voice note to give him a piece of my mind for standing our son up yet again. I was so fed up with him. It was one thing when JJ didn’t notice his absence. Now it was so obvious that even a child could see that something was wrong.

I shook my head as I tossed my phone onto the bed and headed to the kitchen to discard my trash. Remembering that I’d left JJ’s gym bag in the car, I went outside to grab it. I hated to let his clothes stay wet and sweaty overnight. I needed to throwthem in the washing machine or at least remove them from that bag so they could air out.

When I opened the front door, I noticed a piece of paper taped on it. I didn’t have to wonder what it was because the wordsFORECLOSURE NOTICEwere typed in bold font across the top. My vision blurred as I ripped the letter down and staggered back into my house. What the hell was going on, and where the fuck was Jaylen?

I made it back to my bedroom and snatched my phone off the bed, unsure why I was even calling him back at this point. Still, my anger only rose when I heard that voicemail prompt again. This had to be a cruel joke or a vivid dream. I would take either. Anything was better than my man of ten years going missing and finding out we were losing the house at the same time.

Silently, I cursed myself for being so dependent on him. Although I ran a dance studio where two other instructors and I taught jazz, tap, hip hop, and ballet, I could never afford to pay for this house without Jaylen. He footed all the bills and assured me that everything would be all right, as long as I stuck with him.

I should have known better. No, I knew better. I knew better, and yet I refused to listen to the small voice in my head telling me that the only one I could depend on was my damn self. It had been tested and proven time after time.

My mom left me and my younger brother when I was going on thirteen years old. My stepdad, Sebastian, was a godsend. Even when my dad never showed up to get me, Bash never treated me like anything other than his own daughter. He showed me love even before I was practically dropped on his doorstep. He raised me and made sure that I knew that he loved me. It wasn’t his fault that I always felt like a burden. It was just a fact. It was not his responsibility to raise me.

My little brother, Supreme, was his actual son. My dad was a dead-beat bitch who never bothered to care that another manwas raising his daughter, as long as it didn’t cost him a dime. Sebastian was the epitome of a man. He showed me genuine, unconditional love even when I didn’t deserve it.

For the first year or so, I got in fights, got arrested for shoplifting, got pregnant. I did all the things an unruly teenage girl did. Bash never stopped looking for ways to help me channel my pain and anger. Dance saved me from going down the wrong path. I was so thankful for Sebastian. At the same time, I could never stop feeling like I didn’t belong there.

When I came to my senses, I worked hard to be a good daughter and not give him too much trouble. In my heart, I knew that he could wake up one day and decide that raising someone else’s child was too much and force me to go back and live with my mom. I couldn’t say what I would have done in his situation. I just knew that I was grateful every day for what he did for me.

For that reason, I moved away and vowed to never have to depend on my brother or stepdad for anything. They had done more than enough for me over the years. Sebastian didn’t blink when I told him that I wanted to go to school for dance. He’d enrolled me in ballet and tap-dancing lessons once he discovered my love of dancing. I wasn’t a professional, but as they say: Those who can’t do, teach.

When I had the idea to open the studio, my plan was to be self-sustained just in case things went left with Jaylen. After five years, I realized that I had become too comfortable. Jaylen paid the mortgage on the building. He footed the bills at home. He did everything.

Whenever I even suggested chipping in to help, it became a big thing about me not thinking he had money like my brother. He wanted so much to prove that he could take care of me and JJ that I eventually dropped the subject altogether. It was good to be able to put all my money back into the studio. Now as I stared at a foreclosure notice while listening to the phone roll over tovoicemail again, the only thought rolling through my head was I fucking knew better.

I drank half a bottle of Jaylen’s thirty-year-old scotch and crashed into bed, only to be jarred awake by my phone buzzing under my face. Jaylen had some explaining to do. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to hear an explanation at this point. What could he really say? Then again, was it even him? I was pretty sure he was hiding out, knowing that the inevitable was on the way. Besides, his ass better not had been calling me. He needed to be front and center, ready to pay those people whatever the fuck he owed them. I was so sick and tired of his bullshit that I wanted to scream. Another series of buzzing motivated me enough to roll over and answer.

After wiping the drool off both my phone and my face with my shirt, I squinted at the unfamiliar number that had sent me several text messages in the past ten minutes. It was just after midnight, so I wasn’t even sure who the hell it could be until it dawned on me that JJ wasn’t home. It was just my luck that on one of the worst nights of my life, JJ would want to come home in the middle of a sleepover. I hated answering strange numbers, but seeing that it was midnight, I swiped to answer anyway.

“Hello,” I grumbled.

As soon as I said hello, whoever was on the other end hung up. I frowned and rolled over onto my back and tapped the message icon since there were five text messages. The first one was a picture. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand as my eyes began to focus on the picture. Suddenly, I sat up straight in bed like I was coming out of a nightmare because what the hell was I seeing? Who the hell would send me a picture of Jaylen asleep?

922-317-0382: You should stop calling Jaylen. We’re trying to sleep.

“What the hell?” I mumbled to myself as I swung my legs over the side of the bed.