“But it isn’t okay, is it?” he asked and she shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “That’s something you need to ask your therapist. But for now, use me, Jordie, though also know I’m here to talk. That I’ll listen till you can’t talk anymore. I’ll always be here. For whatever you need.”
“I have nothing to say about her,” he said, his eyes closing as he pressed his nose to hers. “I’m just so mad at her, but I can’t hate her.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“She constantly hurts me.”
“I know,” she said once more. “Want me to kick her ass?”
He smiled against her lips and shook his head. “Wouldn’t be worth it. She wouldn’t understand why. In her mind, she does right by me.”
“But she doesn’t. I know that, and so do you.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But why does her rejection still hurt?”
“It hurts because it matters. Unfortunately, she doesn’t realize what she is doing to you, and until you tell her, it won’t ever get better.”
“Is she worth it, though?” he asked and she shrugged.
“That’s up to you to decide. Either way, I support you, love you, and will stand beside you,” she whispered against his lips. “And when you’re ready, I’ll Spartan kick her in the face.”
Grinning, he shook his head. “That’s intense.”
“For you, I’d do an intense Spartan kick,” she promised. “Just to see that smile, I’d do anything.”
Closing his eyes, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her lips softly. “I love you, Kacey.”
“I love you too, Jordie,” she whispered, her fingers grazing over his neck. “Do you feel better?”
He nodded. “I do.”
More so than she could even fathom. Months of rehab and therapy and still the pain of his mother burned from one text. But all he needed was to hear Kacey say she loved him and that she’d Spartan kick his mom and the pain didn’t burn as bad. It still stung, but then he looked into her eyes, and he wondered why he even cared. That woman didn’t want him, but this woman—this beautiful, gorgeous angel—did.
And her love was way more than enough.
It was everything.
It was his saving grace.
“Is it okay to have sex now?” he whispered playfully against her mouth and she grinned.
“It was okay before, but I’m glad we talked.”
“Me too,” he admitted. “I honestly need you, Kacey. Really.”
“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” she promised as the room went dark from her turning the TV off. “I’m yours.”
And he was hers. But instead, he said, “All mine?”
“Every single piece of me,” she said roughly against his mouth.
“Even this piece?” he said, cupping her *, and she gasped against his mouth, arching up in his hand.
“Especially that piece,” she murmured against his lips and he nipped at her bottom lip, feeling utterly perfect. The text from his mom was forgotten, and all that mattered was this woman who lay beneath him. And nothing could change that.
Not a text from his mom.
Not another woman.
Not the bottle.
Nothing, because Kacey was it.
And as her mouth moved along his, her hand covering over his heart, he knew just as he owned every single piece of her, she owned every piece of him.
Especially his heart.
“Hey, JT,” Erik Titov called from the blue line, catching Jordie’s attention from where he stood by the bench. He sent the puck to him and Jordie stopped it with the front of his stick, his brows coming together. Titov wasn’t on his line, nor was it Jordie’s turn to go. He was supposed to be waiting for a play from Coach. Glancing at Coach Baxter, he saw that he was going over different plays with the offense coach, Brady, while Tommy, the defense coach, talked with Adler and Sinclair. That left Karson and Jordie to shoot the shit while they waited since Fontaine and Paxton were passing the puck back and forth, waiting for some direction too.