Crushed

  I snort. “How many have you had?”

  “Enough not to give a shit about your accusations.”

  “Yeah, well…” I look at him—really look at him. He’s my best friend…and I treated him like I didn’t know him at all. “I should have known you’d never—”

  “Yes, you should have. I don’t even care that you think so little of me, Jackson. I don’t even care that you don’t trust your girlfriend, either. That’s not what pisses me off. What makes me absolutely furious is the fact that you disrespected Olivia, our marriage, and Chloe too.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You did.” He takes another sip of his beer. “This childish shit has to stop, Jacks. You’re a grown ass man. Start acting like it or don’t come around here anymore.”

  I cut my eyes at him, but how can I be mad? He’s right. Jumping to conclusions? Flipping out without discussion? That’s the old Jackson. That’s not me anymore. I don’t want to be that person. I can’t be.

  “She fed it to me so easily…” I mutter. “I ate it up without hesitation. She—Amelia made it sound so convincing.”

  Seth simpers, scratching at his bare chest. “I bet she did.”

  I don’t admit that a part of me wanted Amelia to be right. As I hand scrubbed tiles and soaked greasy plates tonight, I realized that deep down, in the dark depths of the old me, I wanted Selena to be pregnant with Seth’s baby. I wanted his own relationship to implode and blow up in his face.

  Out of jealousy, mostly.

  Out of spite too.

  I wanted him to feel how I feel most of the time…alone. Unloved. Unwanted.

  I selfishly wanted his fairy-tale to end—for him to finally see life like I do.

  At the same time, I wanted life to finally give up this charade and prove for the one millionth time that I don’t deserve happiness. I don’t deserve the white picket fence and the big, warm house filled to the brim with children and love. All in the same moment, as I drove to Selena’s place earlier, I lost the plot at the revelation that it could be true…that life was fucking me in the ass yet again.

  I hang my head and scuff my sneaker against the step. “I think I really fucked up this time, Seth.”

  “You’ve done worse.”

  I lift my head and his volcanic eyes soften around the edges as he exhales.

  “Can I see her?”

  He steps aside, granting me access to his house. “Provided you don’t wake Chloe on your way to the guest room. She’s asleep in her own bed for the first time in months.”

  I nod and slip past him. He closes the door behind me and quickly falls into step, switching lights off as we go. When we enter the kitchen. I inhale, my stare zeroing in on the brown paper bag sticking out of the metal bin.

  I glance at Seth as he polishes off what’s left in his beer bottle. “Take out?”

  He shrugs his freakishly broad shoulders. “Olivia made us pull over for burgers and fries on the way home.”

  “Careful,” I utter, elbowing him in the guts. “You’ll get fat.”

  He tightens his pecs, flicking them like the showboating monkey he is. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I didn’t eat it.”

  I smirk. “Good.”

  “Olivia and Chloe ate most of it. Selena just pushed hers around a little before going to bed.”

  Forcing myself through the kitchen and over to the stairs, I sigh with a glance at Seth over my shoulder. Scratching his chest, he quietly lowers his beer into the bin.

  “Wish me luck,” I tell him and he smiles at me.

  “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter Eight

  Selena

  The door to Seth and Olivia’s guest room clicks shut and my queasy stomach drops. I close my eyes and squeeze them tightly, not moving a single muscle. I listen carefully as he slips out of his sneakers and slowly approaches the bed. He doesn’t say a word. In fact, he gives me no indication that it’s even him, but I know it is. I smell my pomegranate body wash and the new scent it creates when it meshes with his skin. I inhale through my nose and hold it, until his scent is all that fills my lungs. Eventually, he sits on the edge of the bed and I let out a subtle exhale.

  “Are you awake?”

  I press my lips together, I’m not sure how to answer that question or if I even should. Without provocation, my lower lip begins to tremble. He’s come to talk, but where do we go from here? Now I know how he sees me. In his eyes, I’m exactly like Amelia. I’m dishonest and unfaithful. He thinks I don’t care about anyone but myself…even though I have proven time and time again that he is the love of my life and I would never ever do anything to hurt him like she did. After everything we’ve been through, the thought of him seeing me in the same light as her destroys me. I don’t know…maybe this whole thing is my fault. I distanced myself from him and the relationship when I shouldn’t have. I pushed him away just like she would. I treated him like a secondary figure in this relationship instead of a primary one. Am I to blame? I still don’t know how any of this works. Does the fault lie with me? Or does the fault lie with him? Perhaps it’s a fault we both should take responsibility for.

  “Yeah. I’m awake,” I whisper.

  Silence ensues, neither one of us knowing where to start. I don’t want to go first. I’m not the one who threw a tantrum and ruined dinner, after all. I deserve an apology for that first, and then we can move on.

  “I messed up, Selena. I never should have listened to her.”

  “Why did you?”

  “I…she…I don’t know.”

  I’m calling bullshit. Why does this woman have such a grip on him? Why does he let her? I don’t understand how Amelia—a woman who is known for being deceitful and cruel—can open her mouth to spew some hateful rumors to him about people she knows nothing about and he actually believes her? Jackson knows her better than anyone and still he chose her word over ours. I get that old habits die hard, but listening to anything she says and attacking me without confirmation is almost unforgivable. Almost.

  “You don’t know?” I scoff, shifting on the bed, pulling the heavy blankets up to my ears. “Get out, Jackson.”

  “I’m sorry,” he pleads, tugging on the blankets, pulling them down to my hips.

  Cold air clings to the naked skin on my arms and I shiver. Groaning, I grab at the sheets, but he refuses to let them go. “Jacks—”

  “Talk to me,” he demands. “I’m here. Let me fix this.”

  “Fix it?” I spit, ignoring the hair that falls into my face. “What’s the point? We always end up back here, don’t we?” I let go of the blankets and roll onto my back. “Maybe we don’t belong together.”

  Even in the dark, I see him flinch and my heart stutters painfully. “Bullshit.”

  “Then why isn’t it easy? Seth and Olivia make it look so easy. If it’s destroying us, then it’s not love…”

  It can’t be. Tears well in the corners of my eyes and I breathe through my mouth to prevent myself from sniffling. I’m tired of looking weak in front of him.

  “It’s love,” he mutters. “I know it.”

  “How do you know?”

  He ponders his next words carefully and I listen as hard as I can, knowing his answer could either make or break us.

  “I know it’s love because I’ve never felt like I do with you, ever. To put it into words is beyond my capabilities.” He clears his throat. “Amelia and I were destructive. I never loved her. I thought I did, but when I fell in love with you—real love—I realized the difference.”

  “The difference?”

  “With her, we’d fight and she’d put everything on me. It was never her fault. Hell, it was never our fault. She’d try to convince me I said things and did things that I know I never did. She’d purposely set up arguments and make me feel crazy to the point that I’d become so confused, I would second guess myself and my mental stability. The identity I had before I met her felt like it had been stripped away completely and I was
certain I wasn’t normal—like she claimed. I mean, how could I be if this person had so much to say about my personality? Often, I would isolate myself in the bathroom and I’d curse and I’d cry…out of frustration. Despair. Confusion. Hurt.”

  I roll onto my side to be closer. I want to touch him. It’s not often he opens up about his past relationship. He refuses to be vulnerable. He refuses to allow me to see him hurt.

  “I didn’t know what to do with her…and I didn’t know what to do without her. I thought that meant I loved her, but once I met you…I realized she manipulated me. She made me think no one could ever love me like she claimed she did…”

  “And yet you still answer her calls,” I point out, unable to keep the cold tone from my voice.

  “It’s not because I want to answer them,” he counters, irritation clear in his tone. “I answered Amelia’s call because I agreed to fight Connor Cage.” I open my mouth to protest, but Jackson shuffles quickly, moving closer, and cuts me off. “She’s hosting it on behalf of some rich casino owner. It’s a lot of money, Selena.”

  I bristle. How can he trust her? How can he want to do business with her? “That’s what this is about? You want to work with her?”

  “Not with her.” He feels the need to clarify, but what’s the difference?

  “I don’t care how much money she’s giving you. I don’t trust her.”

  “I could support you and our baby for the rest of our lives.”

  “I have money. More than we need—”

  “Your father has money,” he shoots back. “And he’s made it pretty clear that he’ll cut you out of his life if you stay with me. I’m talking serious money here, Sel. I can support us from anywhere in the world. You want to raise the baby in Greece? Japan? Australia? Fucking Hawaii? If I win this fight, I can make it happen for you.”

  I smile sadly in the dark. Is that what he thinks I need in order to be happy? I’m not unfamiliar with being treated like a trust fund baby. I’ve grown up with privilege—so much so that people think I can’t survive without the luxury. Maybe I believed that once too, but I don’t need money to be happy. I don’t need big houses and fancy cars. I just want to live a happy, fulfilling life with Jackson and our baby here in Portland.

  “I don’t care about the money,” I tell him, glancing down to play with the hem of my thin, pink tank top. “What if something happens to you? That’s my only concern. Not to mention Seth and Darryl are going to be mad. You’re not allowed to—”

  “Seth knows. He thinks I should do it. It’d be my last fight.”

  I flick my attention to his face. I search it in the darkness, looking for some hint of deceit. Jackson? Done with fighting? I never thought in a million years that he could walk away from it. “Your last fight?”

  Jackson pulls his hoody and shirt over his head and nudges back the blankets. I scoot over to give him space, only he catches me by the hips and pulls me back in close. Our chests are flush together as he wraps his legs around mine.

  “I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m tired. Do you know how much of my life I’ve wasted sweating in a gym? I want to be outside. I want to eat foods I can’t pronounce. I want to live.”

  I frown. “I thought you wanted to go pro?”

  “I did, but now? I want more.” He plants a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I’ve burned out. No more bruises, broken bones, and ruptured spleens. I’m done.”

  I’ve never thought about Jackson being done with fighting. When Seth was fighting, Olivia hated every second of it and I never understood why. She was getting all of this attention and privilege inside the arenas. I loved tagging along. It thrilled me! The energy, the anticipation, the twists and turns. I thought Olivia was weak because she couldn’t handle it, but then I fell in love with someone who enjoys getting pummeled on a regular basis too, and all of the fun was suddenly sucked out of it. The thrill in my stomach turned to dread. I didn’t enjoy watching Jackson get hurt.

  If he’s going to give it all up and focus on our life together, then I have to take responsibility too. A clean slate, right?

  “Before you throw everything out the window, I have my own confession.” Jackson’s finger twitches against my hip. “I don’t think we can move on from tonight until I tell you.”

  I bite my lower lip.

  “Tell me what?”

  “I stopped taking my birth control on purpose.”

  Against me, his muscles tighten. “Oh. How long have you—”

  “Four months ago.” He tenses and I grab his thick wrist in my tiny hand before he can pull away. “I should have told you, but I thought you’d freak out.”

  “Why?”

  I know he’s clenching his teeth. I can hear it in his tone.

  “Because I wanted us to have something more than you and Amelia ever did.”

  “You can’t use a child to—”

  “I know,” I cut in. “Believe me, I know. I’ve tortured myself over it since I found out I was expecting, but it’s done. I betrayed your trust and I’m sorry.”

  He sits in silence. It’s heavy, so heavy it feels as though air is being squeezed from my lungs. I wonder what he’s thinking?

  “We’ve always had something more than she and I ever did.” Jackson exhales and wraps me up in his arms. “We’ve both messed up.”

  I nod, sliding my forehead against his warm, firm chest.

  “And I think we both owe this baby a lot.”

  I tip my head back and he cranes his neck to look at me. Even in the dark, I know he’s searching my face. Jackson’s lips graze mine and my breathing slows, an effect he’s always seemed to have on me.

  “Did you really think Seth and I would—”

  He squeezes my upper body tightly, so tightly my breath escapes me. “Don’t. Let’s forget about what I did and what I said, please.”

  “I’ll forget about it, but only if you forget I ever participated in Seth’s revenge kiss all those years ago.” He loosens his grip and I slide the palms of my hands along his chest, feeling every dip and every rise. His muscles are hard underneath, like marble, but his skin is smooth and soft on top. “I don’t want to think about it again for as long as I live.”

  In silence, his favorite form of communication, he glides his large rough hand underneath my tank top and rubs my belly. Up and down. I close my eyes as the callous tips of his fingers dance low on my abdomen, a private hello for our baby. He caresses me gently, lovingly. There’s no sexual intent in the way he touches me, but my skin ignites regardless. I shift, flexing my hips forward, and touch his thick wrist.

  “We’ll wake them,” he whispers. “Seth will kill me if Chloe stirs.”

  I kiss him on the chin as I guide his hands north, to my bare breast.

  “So don’t wake her,” I reply, cupping his hand with my own, making him squeeze my swollen breast. “I haven’t had you in forever.”

  “Selena…”

  “Please, Jacks. Please.”

  Jackson tilts his head closer to mine. “Even when I don’t force you to, you still beg.”

  “Because you never make it easy for me.” I grasp his face and make him kiss me.

  Within the next heartbeat, his strong hands are in my hair and he’s forcing me closer, if that’s even possible. My head swims and my tummy rolls as Jackson flicks his tongue along my lower lip. I gasp and open my mouth, granting him access.

  Kissing Jackson is the single most potent aphrodisiac in the world. The way he does it sends me to another dimension. I become lost in him. His touch. His taste. His smell.

  There’s no way out unless he allows it. Our kiss consumes my soul, our tongues sliding in and out. We take turns, claiming, worshiping each other.

  He is mine and I am his. For real now. This is it. I can feel it in my mind, body, and my soul. There is no future worth living if we’re not together.

  I sigh against his mouth as his touch turns desperate. I feel it in his fingers, the way they begin to look for bare skin to ca
ress. I feel it in the way he moves his lips against mine, he’s starving for this.

  And I’ve denied it over and over in fear of him not loving me for betraying his trust.

  I drag my hands down his chest and he rewards me with a shudder, a groan, and a clench. The ultimate trifecta of arousal.

  “I love it when you touch me,” he utters, pulling back ever so slightly. “It feels…right.”

  I prop myself onto my elbow and grab the hem of my tank top with one hand. “I don’t ever want it to feel any other way.”

  I inch my shirt up, adjusting my position as I go, until my heavy breasts fall and I am free of the fabric. Even in the dark, I know he’s staring at my chest like a hungry lion stalking a wounded gazelle.

  I brace myself as he reaches out. I expect him to grab at me, to force my supple flesh into his mouth like he always does, but he presses a gentle palm to my cheek instead.

  I frown as he whispers my name. It’s sad, almost.

  “Do you love me?” he asks, flicking a gentle thumb over my cheekbone.

  “Of course, I love you.”

  “Will you love me ten years from now?”

  I don’t understand what’s happening right now. I tilt my head. “I’ll love you forever.”

  “Regardless of my screw ups? Regardless of your father?”

  What is going on here? “Regardless of the Apocalypse, Jackson. Are you all right?”

  “I don’t want to do this now. This isn’t how I imagine tearing myself open and baring everything I have to you.”

  “I’m not asking to do—”

  “Marry me, Selena.”

  My lips part with a rush of air I can’t stop. Did…he just ask me to…?

  “Is this because of the baby?”

  “No.” He reaches out for my face. “Well, I mean, the baby has something to do with it, but I was gonna marry you anyway.”

  I let him touch my face. I let him stroke my lower lip with his thumb, relishing the way my stomach flips and floats. I want to marry him. I want to be with him forever, but I don’t want to do this in the aftermath of a fight, in the aftermath of a mess Amelia made. Do I?