I just asked Jackson to have sex with me. And he said yes.
13
JACKSON
It's been three days since Maya propositioned me in the car, and I'm losing my mind.
Not in a bad way, not in a distracted, can't-focus way. More like every nerve in my body is tuned to her frequency. Every time she walks into a room, I'm aware of it. Every time she laughs at something Emma says, I feel it in my chest. Every time our eyes meet across the dinner table, the air gets heavier.
She's nervous too. I can tell by the way she keeps fidgeting with her bracelet, the way she won't quite hold my gaze for more than a few seconds.
We agreed on rules, set boundaries, and made this as safe as possible.
And now we're both just waiting.
Practice this morning is good. Better than good. The team's clicking, everyone's energy is high, and we run through power play setups while I nail every pass, reading the ice like I've got eyes in the back of my head.
"Cap's on one today!" Jenkins yells after I thread a beauty through three defenders straight to his tape.
"That's what I like to see!" Coach is actually smiling. "Keep that energy, Anderson. The team follows your lead."
We run the drill again. I win the face-off clean, send it back to our defenseman on the point. He walks the line, looking for an opening while I battle for position in front of the net. The pass comes, and I tip it perfectly, top corner.
"Again!" Coach yells. "Run it again!"
Five more times we execute the same play, each one sharper than the last. By the end, my legs are burning, but my head's clear, focused on hockey instead of Maya waiting at home.
Chase skates up beside me during a water break. "You seem good. Like, actually good."
"I am good."
"Maya doing better?"
The question catches me off guard. "Yeah. Therapy's helping."
"Good. Emma was worried." He takes a drink. "You two seem closer lately."
My stomach tightens. "She needed help. I helped."
"Right." Chase gives me a look I can't quite read. "Just don't fuck it up."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just an observation." He skates away before I can press him.
Practice ends with a scrimmage. My line dominates: three goals in ten minutes. Reeves is pissed, claiming we're cheating somehow. The energy is electric, and everyone is talking shit and laughing. This is what I love about hockey: the simplicity of it, the brotherhood.
After showers, Chase and I head out together. He's in a good mood, talking about Emma's latest pregnancy craving, ice cream with hot sauce, which sounds disgusting.
"She made me try it," he says. "Wanted to make sure it was as good as she thought. It was not."
"That's marriage, man."
"No, that's pregnancy. Marriage is her stealing all my hoodies and then complaining she has nothing to wear."
I laugh. It feels good, normal.
We pull into the driveway, and I can smell dinner before we even get inside. The scent of garlic and tomato sauce hits me immediately.
