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Fuck. I hate that my body still comes alive whenever he’s around. A feeling that I’ve only ever experienced with him. And I hate it even more so because he’s the only person to ever break my heart. My ex-teammate. My first love. Hayden Cassidy.
Jackson Wilde has always been the one who got away. The one who was the reason why I could never completely hand my heart over to my ex-wife, Zara. It was because he still owned it. Even now. Almost fourteen years later, he still has a tight hold on me.
As I watch Jackson’s retreating back disappear into the crowd, I can’t help but wonder if he would look at me differently if he knew about the inner demon that’s been living inside of me for so long. That I’ve allowed it to eat away at my life, stopping me from living. To just be… existing. Now, I’m living the life I loved so much through my clients instead. Or would he see me as the weak man that I am underneath the façade I try so fucking hard to keep up?
We went from being inseparable to becoming strangers, and sometimes you don’t truly know the significance of that loss until they’re standing right in front of you again. Like a mirage of someone you once knew.
There’s been a number of times where I’ve been envious of those tiny blobs because I learned they don’t have brains, eliminating the possibility of their minds turning against them. Like mine has done with me.
It’s remembering I’m also Jackson Wilde, the guy who enjoys cooking and listening to Frank Sinatra and enjoys lazy Sundays in bed with a good thriller. Because outside of every other hat I wear, I’m not sure I remember who I am anymore. And it kinda sucks.
It also means I’ve been on a wild roller coaster with my emotions, flicking between feeling touched that he’s thinking of me and my kids to being angry that he thinks he can just waltz back into my life like nothing happened. That he didn’t break my heart in such a devastating way. I have whiplash from my own damn feelings, and I don’t know what to do about it.
I internally roll my eyes. She often has to remind me there’s no such thing as “normal,” but try convincing my brain of that.
She’s right. I’ve made the first move to try and make amends, but I’m still filled with fear. Still preparing myself for rejection and going against what I told myself I would do. I can’t grow if I’m cutting myself off at the stem.
All I know is tonight, I might be making the biggest mistake, but I can’t bring myself to care. So, I throw caution to the wind and worry about the consequences later and slam my lips against his.
Fuck. I don’t know how I can resist him any longer. He dropped everything for me and flew across the country because he wanted to help me. He’s made me my favorite pregame snack, something he used to do for me all the time.
“And what about you?” I find myself asking. “What about me?” “Will I make you proud?” His eyes shine with so much adoration my breath hitches. “You’ve always made me proud, Jackson. You make me proud by simply being you.”
I’d linger near the back of the room because what the fuck do you do with a baby? They just sleep. Or scream, and hell, I didn’t want to drop it or make it cry. I would’ve felt like the worst person in the world if I made a baby cry.
If there was a sign to tell me I needed to stop fighting this—whatever this is—between us, then him turning up on my doorstep during my time of need was it.
“They became a reminder to me that I am stronger than what my mind tells me. They say one of the hardest parts of having depression is asking for help, and for me, as long as I continue to see those jellyfish, I know I’ve already overcome one of the toughest hurdles, and I can keep doing it.”
“I hear you’ve got some of my hockey cards,” he murmurs. I laugh softly, hands skimming his ribs. “Who told you that?” “Your son.” I snort. Of course Ryan told him. “The little shit. I told him to keep that a secret.” He lifts his head to look at me with one eyebrow raised. “You wanna know a secret?” “Yeah,” I croak. “I have yours too. I keep them in my office.”
“You do?” He kisses one corner of my mouth, then the other. “Yeah. It’s always been you, Jax.” And I know, right there and then, while we exchange tired kisses and gentle strokes of hands over skin, that it’s always been Hayden for me too.
“I won’t fail you a second time, Jackson,” I whisper, carding my fingers through his hair. “I swear to you, I’ll be loving you every day for the rest of my life.”
“It makes sense. Sometimes our biggest demon is our own minds. I mean, hell, I spent a long fucking time allowing my fear of history repeating itself to rule my life. We’re conditioned to believe that we’re strong, and emotions are for the weak, but ultimately, the only people we’re hurting by doing that is ourselves.”
As I watch the three of them laugh and joke over the stolen gingerbread, I make a silent oath that while I’m on this earth, I’ll never do anything to risk hurting them. I’m still a work in progress, and I’m never going to be truly fixed, but they are quickly becoming my entire world. And I’ll do anything to protect their happiness.
“You never lost me, not fully. I was still there emotionally, I just… took the wrong path.” I take his face in my hands, sifting my fingers through the blond strands on the side of his head. “But it ended up putting me exactly where I needed to be.”
“I love you, Hayden Issac Cassidy. I’ve always loved you, and I will continue to love you. I’ll love you so fucking hard you won’t ever question it.”
“If this is what you need to do, I will support you with whatever you need. But you’re not giving up on me, Hayden. You’re not giving up on us because it’s not just my love you have now. It’s Ryan and Isabela’s. They fucking adore you to the moon, and maybe I’m being a jackass by mentioning how fucking upset they’ll be if you don’t come back, but it’s the truth. You have a family here who love you, Hayden, and you have a home. Here. With us. And we’ll be waiting for you, whenever you’re ready to come home to us.”
“But most of all, I’d like to spend every day with you. I want to spend the rest of my life waking up next to you and falling asleep in your arms. I’d like to spend Christmas mornings with you, watching the kids open their gifts with so much excitement they don’t know what to open first. I’d like lazy Sundays with you, making pancakes and stealing kisses whenever the kids aren’t looking. I’d like to grow old with you—well, older, because fuck, Jax, that day we went to the market made me feel about one hundred and three.”
