With that, we go to my car, and I drive us to my house.
Chapter Forty-Five
Jaxon
I’ve never in all my life felt so… empty. Though I’m not sure that’s the right word. I don’t feel empty in the sense that I feel worthless or useless. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe this is what it’s like to start fresh. To shed the stress and negativity, and start over. Maybe this is what it’s like to feel normal.
It’s nearly one in the afternoon. I’ve been up for hours. Sailor is still sleeping. I contemplated going to get us breakfast, but the last time I did that, everything changed. So I order a grocery delivery instead, and I’ll make us food as soon as it gets here.
I took a lot from her last night, used her body roughly, spiked her adrenaline, and pushed her mentally. She’s exhausted. But I can’t help but want to go in there and wake her up… with my mouth, my cock, my hands, my words… all of it. I just want to talk to her. See she’s real. Because, even though she’s here, in front of me, doesn’t mean she’s mine again.
I mean, she is, she always will be, but I want her to want it too.
She needs to need this as badly as I do, the way it was before.
An alert goes off on my phone, telling me the driver is on the way with my order. He should be here in less than fifteen minutes. I go into the kitchen to find mixing bowls, pans, plates, and utensils. Breakfast never takes long to make, and I need to keep myself busy so I don’t bother Sailor—even though everything in me is telling me to do so.
When the doorbell rings, I blink and realize I’m standing in front of the fridge with no memory of how I got here, or how long I’ve been staring into it. Shaking out of it, I close the door and grab the delivery that was left on the porch. I lay everything out on the counter and get to work making pancakes, bacon, and eggs. I get the coffee pot going, and by the time I’m done, it’s two.
She needs to sleep, but she also needs to eat. So I plate the food, set it up on the table, and go into the room to wake her up. The moment I step into the room, she rolls over and looks at me sleepily, shock widening her eyes before the memories come back to her.
“Morning,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I made breakfast.”
“You cooked?”
“I know how to cook.”
Her smile is soft and sweet. I can’t help but reach out to brush the hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
“Come on,” I say, getting up and offering her my hand. She throws the blankets off, and I lead her to the table where the food is set up. “I figured you used the creamer in the fridge. I hope it’s okay.”
She looks into the mug and smiles. “It looks perfect. Thank you.”
I sit across from her, and we eat in silence. It feels weird, and I hate it. I don’t want it to be like this, and I’m not sure whyit is. We need to talk, but I don’t know what to say. So, I keep shoveling food into my mouth like I haven’t eaten in a year.
When our plates are empty, I wash them and all the pans, dry them and put them back where I got them. I dry my hands on the towel, hang it up neatly, and turn to see where she’s at so we can figure things out.
I stop abruptly. She’s standing right there, not two feet from me.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says with a small smile that tells me she isn’t lying. I see the truth shining in her eyes.
“Are you?”
She closes the distance between us, putting her arms around my waist and resting her cheek against my chest. I wrap her in my arms, another wave of emotion hitting me. I don’t know what this is all about, but I don’t fucking like it. She lifts her head to look up at me.
“Do you want to be here?”
“Of course I fucking do. Why would you ask that?”
“You’re acting weird.” It isn’t accusatory, just a comment.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out. “I’ve been dealing with a lot.
Nodding, she puts her cheek back against my chest, and we stay like that for a long time. Each second that passes heals my broken heart just a little more.
She pulls away first, taking my hand and leading me back to the bedroom. She gets into bed, crawls under the covers, then flips the other side down and pats the bed. I slide in, and she scoots over to throw her arm over my stomach and rest her head in the crook of my shoulder.
“I’ve never done the cuddling thing before,” I admit.
