Page 61 of Rush

“This is a lot, Jameson.” I sigh. I’m becoming emotional again and I do not want to cry right now. “We just got back together. This is really sudden. You didn’t ask; we didn’t talk about it.”

One of his hands comes down to cradle my face, his thumb tracing over my bottom lip. “This isn’t sudden, Sam. We have been inevitable since we were kids. We already lost a couple of years together due to my stupidity and your fears. I won’t lose any more moments like this. I love you. You and Dylan belong here with me.”

He leans down and kisses me, his body curling around mine, like he really is trying to keep me from escaping. “Now. Our little girl is going to be here in just a few minutes. Let’s get some of her stuff put into her room.”

He stands and helps me off the couch. My brain is still wrestling with if this is a good idea. I’m torn between my heart that is willing and ready to jump in and my mind that is screaming how fast this is. I’m still mentally working through the revelations of the past few days on top of Jameson’s secret racing career. Somewhere in a dark part of my subconscious, I can hear my mom’s voice warning me that Jameson is dangerous, that his infatuation with me is unhealthy. Just like she did in high school when we first started dating. She never understood why we always had to be together, or how he would constantly be around me. My mother called our love wild and toxic. I hate that I’m allowing these thoughts, her opinion, to creep in.

Jameson gets two boxes into her room and unpacked with my help before the doorbell rings. My first thought should be to go with him, to try to get out, to maybe convince Johnny that his brother has lost his marbles; yet, my feet stay where they’re at. My body doesn’t react. My lips stay closed. The next thing I know Dylan is bolting into her room, her little arms circle my legs as she hugs me tight. This time tears spring to my eyes for an entirely different reason. I’ve missed my girl, I’ve missed her sunny smile, her laughter and chatter.

Kneeling on the ground, I scoop her into my arms, hugging her while she tells me all about her adventures at Aunty Riley and Uncle Reign’s and Uncle Johnny’s house. The entire time she talks, we put her stuff from my house into her room at Jameson’s house.

“Knock, knock, pretty girls,” he says from the doorway. “Dinner is ready.”

My eyes blink and I look at my phone. Sure enough, Dylan and I have been in here for almost half an hour. Glancing at Jameson, I can tell he already knows what I’m thinking. I didn’t escape and I unpacked Dylan’s things. I should be mad, I should be feeling anything except for breathless because he has the audacity to look hot leaning against the doorframe, with his arm raised above his head and his abs on display. I want to blame my mental meltdown on that alone, but it’s the warm way he watches Dylan and the hope in his eyes that completely does me in. I’m ruined.

Dylan follows her daddy out of the room and to the kitchen. It's his turn now to hear the same stories that I did a few minutes ago. Trailing behind them, I start to realize this could be my life. This isn’t some symptom of Stockholm Syndrome. Heat rises up my neck, and my heartbeat quickens. I like this. No, I love this sense of family, of Jameson taking care of us. I always wanted this with him, dreamed of it even as a teenager. I watch while he dishes up Dylan’s plate with food and then does the same for me, the veins in his arms tensing with every task. He sits next to me, his eyes catching mine, and he winks. I want to combust on the spot. An hour ago, I was ready to raise hell. Now I’m having a visceral reaction to just sitting next to him while he feeds me.

After dinner, we do the dishes together and fall onto the couch with Dylan between us. The night is peaceful, perfect, and something I’ve always dreamed about. When it's time for bed, I, once again, let him pull me close, ready to sleep wrapped in his arms.

“Jameson,” I say his name quietly, his answer a soft grunt in my ear. “You can’t do anything like this ever again. I don’t want any more secrets between us.”

Silence fills the air as a heartbeat passes between us. His arm squeezes me gently. “Okay.”

“Is there anything else I need to know?” My voice shakes, terrified to ask and yet scared to know the answer.

He leans in, pressing hip lips to the back of my head. “Nothing else, Sammy. I promise.”

Exhaling slowly, I feel my body start to relax more into his hold. If this is the worst of everything, I need to find a way past it. In the future, I won’t stand for any more lies or omitted truths. Jameson is promising he won’t make the same mistake twice; I just don’t know if I can believe him. I don’t know if we’ll ever get back to my blind faith in him before everything came to light. And if I can’t, will we really be able to move on? Will things be okay for us in the future if I can’t? A headache pulses behind my eyelids, the stress of the past few days finally catching up to me. My eyes close, seeking the deep nothingness sleep can offer me tonight. Right before I slip away, his voice tugs me back.

“You’re my everything, Sam. Love is a limitation on what I feel for you.”

sam

. . .

An alarm blares, and I startle awake. My eyes blink, and everything comes back into focus. Once again, I’m instantly bogged down with the weight of everything that's happened. Even seeing my bedspread over the top of me does nothing to ease the tension in my body. Sitting up, I notice the apartment is quiet. Jameson’s side of the bed next to me is empty as well. I slide out of bed and walk quietly down the hall to Dylan’s room. My brow rises when I see she’s not in there and her backpack for daycare is gone. I turn and leave, heading to the living room next, only to find that and the kitchen empty also. Grabbing my phone, I pull up Jameson’s number right as the lock engages on the front door and it opens. He walks in, his eyes instantly finding me, his heated gaze running from the top of my head to my bare toes. His lips kick up in an easy smile.

“You didn’t oversleep. I just got Dylan up and off to daycare so we could talk before your classes.”

My brow rises and my arms cross over my chest. “Oh. Are you letting me go home?”

His eyes flare. “Fuck no. This is your home, Sam. And don’t deny it. You spent half the night with Dylan unpacking your things and spreading them around the apartment.”

“Then what do we need to talk about before my classes?” I snap at him, my cheeks heating, remembering that I did in fact do all those things.

He sighs and his head tilts back. When his gaze comes back to mine, he looks pained. “Your classes are important to you. Getting your degree is part of your goals and I want you to have that.” He takes a piece of paper from his back pocket and hands it to me. “Here.”

My fingers curl around the yellow post-it and I look at a series of numbers. “99913?”

“The age we met. My hockey number. Your hockey number. The age I knew I wanted you forever. That's the code to the lock,” he answers.

My knees sway and my heart thumps in my chest. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m giving you the code so you can leave, go to class, go to practice before your coach freaks out, see your girls. Live your life. I just hope you come home to me. When you walk through that door again, we’re moving on. We’re going to forget about the past, accept that this is our future. I’ll be taking care of you. You are getting your dreams, Sam. Every single last thing on that list, I will make come true for you. I just need you to want it, baby. I need you to want it as bad as I do,” he explains, his heart pouring into every word.

Tears mist my eyes. It physically hurts to stand here and watch him. To hear the pain and hope wrapped in his voice. Staying means accepting and that means I can forgive it all. My heart squeezes painfully.

Jameson steps toward me, his hands cradling my face. “Stay with me.”