My shoulder and arm are also killing me, but I didn’t bring any pain meds. I’m sick of being sluggish and irritable, and I can’t tell if it’s the pain or the pills.
A gentle nudge or kick to my side brings me a smile; then, my heart sinks, and the smile fades into a grimace. It’s not the pregnancy or the baby. It’s that it’s not mine, and it feels like intruding on another man’s territory to experience it, to enjoy it.
Strange, since I’m fond of caring for her, but unlike Ethan, I don’t relish the taboo aspect of this situation. And I’m not Jax. I’m not entangled with both Aurora and Ethan, obsessed with anything related to them.
I’m deeply in love with Aurora—a love I’ll never share with anyone else—yet I can’t shake this uncomfortable feeling, this yearning for more. Sometimes, I still feel like I’m leading a double life.
I rake my fingers through my hair. It’s not Aurora, it’s not thepolyamorous relationship—I don’t need her all to myself—but maybe purpose and security I’m lacking. I’m not used to being idle, not used to…freedom.
She and Jax are soulmates, bonded for eternity or some shit, and she’s having a baby with Ethan, who also loves Jax. The three of them are solid. She wanted something exclusively hers, and she has that with me, but what do I want? What’s my place in this family? Where do I fit in this foursome?
This is why I stay focused; If not, my mind is chaos. But Jesus, I could use a fucking break.
I shift, and Aurora groans, reaching for me.
“Sleep. It’s early.” I kiss her forehead. “I’ll get you breakfast.”
“French toast and strawberries,” she mumbles without opening her eyes.
“We’ll see. You need protein. You eat too much sugar.”
She makes a grumpy, pouty noise and falls back asleep. I go to the bathroom, shower quickly, get dressed, and find my phone on the counter. Wrestling with my clothes and the sling is agony, and once again, I regret not packing pain meds, but I’ll manage.
I hadn’t planned on sleeping here, but releasing her from my arms felt impossible, and we were undisturbed. The isolation was heavenly after the pandemonium of recent weeks.
When I arrived yesterday, I thanked my team then kicked them out. I saw them enough during my hospital stay. My commander hasn’t mentioned me returning to the field, and I’m not pushing it. The case is in the investigative stages, and my recovery has been harder than I expected.
Plus, Jax and Ethan are traveling. My place is at home.
My place.
Being at home, protecting Aurora and this family, strengthens my sense of purpose, brings me peace. I’ll forever be her bodyguard, and I’m okay with that. I am.
I enter the kitchen to blissful silence. The solitude is serene. I’ve never appreciated this house more.
The last time I saw Charlie, he grabbed a pizza box and headed toward my room. I’m assuming he hung around playing video games or went to the pool house. He stays close—another thing I need to figure out.
I doubt my partner will be on twin duty much longer. There’s no way HSI will prosecute Desi and Dante. They were defending the house—myhome—with weapons belonging to Charlie and me, issued by Homeland Security. A defense lawyer would eat that up, and neither of us would testify against them.
While coffee is brewing, I text Ethan. I’m surprised he hasn’t checked in already.
You got a moment to talk?
Ethan
Is this about you sleeping in my bed last night?
Startled and using only one hand, I fumble with the phone, dropping it on the counter.
Ethan is possessive of Aurora and Jackson, as in, they’re his, and you’re not allowed to hurt them or keep them. If I’m treating Aurora right and not stealing her, he’s not bothered by me being with her.
Jax, on the other hand, watches our every move.
It’s your wife’s bed also, and we agreed there’d be no cameras in the bedrooms, stalker.
The coffeemaker beeps, and I pour myself a cup while I wait for his response.
Jackson
