Page 90 of Body Check

“I don’t want kids,” I tell him. “Yes, I value my career more than having a child. But I also don’t want a child of my own. I have a niece I adore. That’s enough for me.”

He lets out a gusty breath. “Okay. Then, I need a favor.”

“Oh?”

“You’re off on Thursday. It’s the league mandated day off.”

Carefully, I nod. Where’s he going with this?

“Do you mind…” He swallows. “What I’m trying to say is, I need a ride.”

“A ride? To the doctor?”

“Yeah. I’m seeing a specialist.”

I blink. “Okay, I’m missing something here. Because you’re acting like this is the end of the world. It’s not. Your ankle will heal. You’ll be fine.”

Jason shakes his head. “It’s not for my ankle. I have an appointment with a urologist.”

“Okay?”

“For a vasectomy,” he blurts.

My eyebrows go sky high. “What?”

“I don’t want kids. And you don’t want kids. And I’m out for the season,” he rushes out. “So, why not get it done? Get it over with?”

“You want to have a vasectomy because I don’t want kids?”

“I don’t want them, either,” he says. “If you did… If you did, it’s something I’d consider, but it would probably be the end for us. At the very least, I’d resent you for forcing me into it.”

I flinch.

“But I don’t want them. Neither do you. I’m fine with Ainsley and my nieces and nephews,” he hurries to add. “Kids can still be part of our lives without being our children.”

“So, you’re having a vasectomy,” I say slowly.

He nods. “I know in the grand scheme of things, it’s a minor procedure. A bit of local anesthetic, and I’ll be fine. But I’d like you to be there.”

“To hold your hand?” I tease, trying to get my bearings.

“Yeah, Amelia,” Jason says, with a shy smile. “I’d like you to hold my hand.”

Swallowing my fears, I rise from my stool and approach him. We don’t touch at work; not after what happened in this very room all those months ago.

But I can’t stop myself from fisting his shirt and tugging until he ducks down enough that I can kiss him.

It’s been days since we’ve been alone together. Two weeks since we last had sex on the day of his injury. I miss him. He’s right in front of me. He’s so close, but there’s so much separating us.

Jason groans into the kiss, his tongue slipping past my lips to tangle with mine. I wrench back, meeting his eyes.

“You’re sure about this?” I ask.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” he says.

I go to kiss him again, but before I can, there’s a knock on the door.

Taking a step back, I smooth his shirt from where I gripped the soft cotton, fix my hair, and open the door.