The breath is sucked from my lungs. “Jamie.”
He leans down to give me a soft kiss. “I can survive without football. But these last couple of weeks have proven to me that I won’t survive without you. Maddox had to pick me up every morning for training camp, or I wouldn’t have gone. My house is a disaster. The only thing I did was play football, sleep, and write in that journal I gave you.”
I gasp. “The journal! I haven’t had a chance to read it yet! Put me down! Put me down!”
Jamie chuckles as he lets go, but as soon as my feet hit the ground and his cock slides out of me, my face screws up in disgust. He bursts into laughter. “I could have walked us into the bathroom.”
Keeping my knees together, I waddle over to grab a towel. “It’s fine. I want to read the journal.”
“Are you sure?” he asks hesitantly. “I know how I am with stuff touching me, so I really won’t judge you if you want to take a shower.”
I sigh. “It’s not fine. I’ll be right back. I’d invite you to join me, but I don’t think we’d actually shower, and I really want to read the journal!”
“I know. Go,” he says, pointing toward the bathroom as he kicks off his pants and tucks his cock back into his boxer briefs. Standing here like this, knowing he just annihilated me against a wall, is one hell of a feeling. “Baby. Go take a shower!”
“Alright,” I mutter, untying the corset as I walk. I dispose of the ripped panties, then strip out of the corset. Somehow one of the stockings has a run, but I don’t care. I quickly pull them off and step into the shower. Piling my hair on top of my head, I take an incredibly cold, but fast, shower, then wrap myself in a thick fleece robe. “Done.”
“Damn,” Jamie says with a laugh, then pats the bed next to him. He’s already under the covers, and he’s moved Flash into her kennel in my room. Climbing into bed, I grab the journal to begin reading.
Within a minute, I’m crying. I flip between laughing tears and straight sobbing as I read so many pages about his thoughts over the past two weeks.
“Did you make a decision about your mom?” I ask quietly.
“I don’t want to see her,” he says bluntly. “That much I know. But I’m debating on calling her. If I did, would you sit with me when I do it? I don’t think I want to do that alone.”
“Of course,” I whisper. I continue reading to hear about how his cats miss me, a new restaurant he thinks I would enjoy, and all the reasons why I’ve made his life better just be being me. When I finish, I turn to Jamie as I wipe the last of my tears away. “Can I implement a rule for when you’re out of town?”
“Sure, but I’m honestly hoping I can sweet-talk you into traveling with me on occasion,” he says with a laugh.
“On occasion, maybe. But I can’t close my clinic every week for a couple of days. That’s not fair to my patients and their parents.”
He smiles at me sweetly. “I know, Doc. I’d never expect you to do that. If we make it to the AFC Championship, and then the Super Bowl, I’ll probably beg you, so be prepared.”
“Noted. So, when you’re out of town, I think we should write letters like this to each other. It will be a way we can stay connected, and a keepsake for us to look through in the future. This journal,” I say, squeezing it against my chest, “will be something I cherish. I want you to have that as well.”
“I love that idea,” he says huskily, sliding his arms around me. “Can I write about all the things I’m going to do to you when I get home?”
“You better. And don’t skimp on the details.”
“I’mverygood at being graphic.”
A little over a month later, I’m in a suite at Rocky Mountain Stadium, watching my hot boyfriend battle against the Nashville Tigers. Jamie told me to invite anyone I wanted, so I decided to invite pretty much everyone I know. Chelsea, Jax, andBecca are here. Arianna from Eternity Springs drove down with her husband, Stone, and her brother, Luca, brought his wife, Hannah. Claire is here with another gal from the crazy group chat, Natalie, and one of Arianna’s other brothers, Dominic, brought his wife, Kate. The suite came with a catered meal, and the thick glass partition separating us from the rabid fans is perfect for limiting the amount of noise we hear. While I don’t always have an issue with overstimulation due to loud sounds, I really don’t want today to be a day for that.
“Your boy is looking good,” Jax says from beside me.
“He is.” Whoever created football pants is an angel.
“He mentioned the fans have been a little … overzealous with wanting details about you.” Overzealous is a politically correct way of saying psychotic, it seems. I’ve come home to people rifling through my mailbox, fans scheduling new appointments at my clinic when they don’t have pets, and tailing me on the highway.
“He moved me into his house while I was at work this week,” I confess with a giggle. “He said it stresses him out too much knowing I’m alone at my townhouse. I’ll be putting it up on the market next week.”
“Moving pretty fast,” he muses, right as his wife walks up.
“You better not grill this poor woman about her intentions, Jacob Mitchell! You married me before we’d even had a proper date.” Hands on her hips, Becca Stephens-Mitchell looks stern, but her eyes are sparkling. “Ignore him, Audrey. You’re moving at the perfect pace for you and Jamie. No one else is allowed to have an opinion on the matter.”
Jax puts up his hands in mock surrender. “I wasn’t saying it was too fast! Just commenting. That’s all. I’m in full support of Jamie and Audrey. I don’t want to sleep on the couch, Darlin’. The pigs make too much noise, and Thunder farts a lot.”
“Oh shit,” Dominic shouts. “He’s got a window!”
