8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Jack

The whole day puts me in a bitter mood.

I held onto some hope that Emily would come eventually. That she's just running late once more—just trying to beat the clock, trying to brush off some rude customers.

The four walls have been driving me crazy. But the sun sets, the room goes colder, and I know that visiting hours don't run this late. There's bitterness in my mouth. It's not like she's obliged to come here, but I really was excited to see her.

I probably scared her off or something. When she read the card my teammates made, there were more than a couple of lewd ones, insinuating how much I miss being surrounded by girls. I hated it, too, so it's not the worst thing for her to just never visit again.

As I close my eyes and force myself to sleep, I try not to think about how much I messed up another thing. It was never meant to be.

The next day, when a knock comes and a puff of long, curly red hair peeks through the door, I feel my heart skip a beat.

Coming home isn't as smooth as I thought it would be.

I knew it would be hard, but it's a lot less relaxing on the couch and trying to be occupied and more dragging myself through the house just to eat. It's waking up, going to see my Physiotherapist, taking my medicine, and going to sleep. A whole month passes like this.

I sit perched up on my bed, my knee supported as I watch TV. Sweet Girl, who stayed with my mom, is still as protective as ever. She jumps on the bed and sniffs my brace, purring sympathetically on my shin as she faces the door, guarding me.

Days go by. Methodical and plain, simultaneously slower and faster due to the blank walls of the hospital room. I spent time reflecting, thinking about everything that had happened since that faithful game. Too much time has passed, and a lot changed within a month.

There's only one person who I think of when thinking of my recovery.

A stupid idea pops into my head, the type that makes you wonder if you're crossing lines that shouldn't be crossed. I ask the one person whose opinion hasn't failed me yet. I pat Sweet Girl, and she faces me. "Should I do this possibly stupid thing? Meow for yes, say nothing for no."

Sweet Girl, being a cat, stares back blankly. She blinks a few times before getting up, somehow avoiding my knee as she climbs to my chest. Her head bumps my chin, and then she sits firmly on my lap. She meows—long and high-pitched.

Fuck.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Emily walks in hesitantly, biting the inside of her cheek as she steps into the house. She turns to me and immediately scowls, waving me inside. "Dude. You just got out of the hospital. Sit down .

"I've been at home for like a month now." It's hard to believe two months since all of that. "My physio says it's good to stretch a little."

She toes off her shoes, kicking them to the side. Her eyes don't leave the cast as she murmurs, "I don't like it. Please, for my peace of mind, sit down."

I don't listen, instead slowly making my way toward the dining table as she looks around. I hear her coo, and I see Sweet Girl curl herself around Emily's ankles. She chuckles, "Hello, cutie. Aren't you adorable?" She reaches down and picks her up. "Is she yours?"

I nod proudly at the purring mess in her arms. "She was a stray behind the building. Sweet, ain't she?"

"Yes," Emily mumbles, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur. While she's distracted, I grab my phone and turn on some music, keeping it low and ambient as I double-check to make sure everything's in place.

I take a deep breath, feeling so close to throwing up. Is this too much? I hear her footsteps come closer, and Emily makes a sound from behind me that makes me chuckle. When I face her, she's staring at the food like it's gold.

"I know I should've thanked you properly a month ago," I grab the back of her chair and move it. "But I wanted to, at least, have the strength to pull out your seat."

"Jack," she whispers, shaking her head.

Panic settles into my bones, all the what-if s coming out of their hiding spots. I start to ramble, rubbing the back of my neck. "I asked your mom what you liked. I also got help from my mom, but I cooked it all myself. I'm a bit rusty in the kitchen. If it tastes horrible, just pretend."

"If it tastes horrible, can I bill you or something?" she quips, but it comes out shaky and emotional. "It looks so perfect. Are you sure this isn't those plastic food replicas at restaurants?"

"It might be," I laugh, urging her to sit. "Go easy on me, okay? Still gravely injured."

Emily snorts, her green eyes piercing. "In your dreams."

If I was more coherent, a good part of me would call myself stupid.

Emily's eyes are worried but open, silently pulling my barriers up brick by brick. I knew this would happen somehow. That dinner would end so well, that we'd bond and banter with each other as the night grew deep. That she would unintentionally find a way to rip me apart in the best way possible.

"How did that even happen?" Emily questions, swirling her cup of coffee. "Even I felt that way about you."

I sigh, closing my eyes to face my fears. "Because it was true."

She's quiet, scooting closer and nodding encouragingly. I take a deep breath. "I can't tell you when it started. Really couldn't tell you. But when I was a freshman, it was really hard for me to make friends—which sounds stupid, but hear me out."

My eye twitches as I recall. "I only had your brother as my friend. No matter how many clubs I joined, I just couldn't get someone to be friends with. One time, some drunk dude came up to me at a party and told me his friend thought I was cute. We talked, and I kissed her. That was it.

But after that, everyone got word of it and made conversation. People spread the word of ‘Jack getting some bitches at a party.'" I frown at the quote, and so does Emily.

"After that, everyone in my hockey team just ran with it. They pushed me to every girl at a party. Sometimes, I slept with them, I'll be honest. Other times, I came clean to them and told them my situation. The girls were nice enough to play along before we left the room. I had my Easy A moment.

It caught up, and the lines of real relationships and fake ones started to blur. I fucked some girls over because of it. I'm not proud at all, but I did it. During hockey matches, the other team would always talk shit about the girls I got with. That's why I got into a lot of fights—I can handle the insults being about me, just not them."

I sniffle, and Emily rubs her knuckles on my forearm comfortingly. I huff. "I called all the girls a year later to apologize, but I hurt them either way. It already happened. The persona stayed. A girl could sit near me, and they'd think it was another body to count.

I haven't been on a date in years, and I'm still a playboy. But I get it. I had so much time to denounce everything, to not be an asshole, but I didn't. It's just the consequence, and I'm going to face it."

Emily sighs softly, taking in the information. I feel open and bare. I crossed the line now.

"I just have one question: would you do it all again?" she asks after a moment.

" No. If I could turn back time, I'd make sure none of it ever happened." I keep my head down in shame.

Emily mumbles. "You did shitty things. But your reaction to your mistakes is as important as the mistakes themselves. You've got more self-awareness and did more than others would. That's all that matters."

The words sink over me, and I look up to see that Emily is already staring at me. I falter, scanning her face for any lie. I didn't think anyone would give me the grace—I don't even give it to myself. What did I do to deserve this?

I almost wish for her to take back the words. Maybe carrying the pain for the rest of my life would be the best punishment. Her gaze is steady, and not a single doubt is written on her face. My voice is just barely a whisper. "Thank you."

"You deserve good things, Jack."

It's so hard not to look at her. "Yes. Okay."

I can't breathe.

What started as a heartfelt talk ended with us in my bedroom, my back flat as Emily straddles me, her lips on mine.

Her kiss is warm, faintly tasting like the coffee she was sipping on earlier. Both our hips grind lazily as I let my hands roam over her body. She's soft under my fingertips as I rove over her lower back, and her hips, hesitating slightly as I trail down to her ass. The sound she makes when I give her a squeeze makes me gasp.

It's a blurry mess of heat until both our clothes are off, Emily being so careful to not jolt my knee too roughly. My groan is muffled, barely breaking the kiss. "Em,"

"Mhm?" she hums, nibbling my jaw.

"You sure about this?"

"I don't think I'd be naked if I wasn't, don't you think?"

My head thuds back onto the pillow. "Fair enough. Carry on."

It's almost painful to simply kiss her while her fingers explore, but swallowing every moan in a kiss is a great second best. "You're so gorgeous, "I pant, nibbling on her bottom lip. She shudders; it spurs me on. "Absolutely gorgeous."

"Jack." her voice fails to be stern. "Come on. Do you have any condoms?"

"Fuck. No, I don't." I blindly ruffle through my nightstand. "Shit. I can still get you off by—"

"Are you clean?" Emily mumbles, pressing her face into my neck.

"Yes. Have to get tested regularly."

"Okay. So am I. If you're still up for it?"

"As long as it's okay with you."

I lift her head, loving the sight of her green eyes hazy with lust. I press a soft kiss on her forehead. "Whatever works for you. I'll get you off either way."

"Okay," she nods and reaches down, grabbing my cock in her hands. I gasp at the friction as she strokes me, her hand twisting up at every upstroke. I feel like I could cum just from her hand. I am so hard, and the sight of her above me, wanting to take what she wants from me. I have to think of ice rinks and stinky locker rooms to stop myself from exploding in her hand.

"Just lay there, okay? Let me get what I want."

I nod rapidly, almost choking on my spit. I make myself comfortable, holding her hips as she takes her time sliding my cock inside her. The up-close view of her face contorting in pleasure is mind-blowing—the kind of view you want to keep forever.

I whisper small encouragements, kissing every part of her that I can reach as she gets used to everything. When she does sink, her hips firmly against mine, both of our breathing is shaky.

"Fuck, Em. You feel so good." I wrap both arms around her torso, hugging her close as she collapses on my chest. I rock my hips back and forth; she does the same as we slowly thrust that way.

It's a lot slower and more intimate but I'm not complaining. My hands can't stop moving, finding every piece of skin, mapping it to my memory. One day, if she'll let me, I'll trace every part with my mouth.

"Right there," she whimpers at a particularly hard grind, so I continue the motion with more vigor, aiming for that spot in her. My hips thrust shallowly, mouthing at her shoulder as I move hard and quick. I exhale sharply, my breathing stuttering as she tightens occasionally, her hands gripping my shoulders hard.

Her noises get louder—more high-pitched—and the heat in my lower stomach grows. I moan, twisting her head to messily press our lips together. "Feel good?"

Emily nods, making a quiet mhm as I slip my tongue in, licking the inside of her mouth and tracing behind her teeth. It doesn't take long before she squeezes me again, her noises frantic this time. It brings me closer, thrusting upward with less rhythm, and when Emily bites my shoulder, the string snaps.

I moan brokenly, hips stuttering before I carefully lift her squirting messily onto her ass. My hands are shaking as I slip two fingers into her, thrusting them back and forth to bring her to completion.

"Oh, fuck ." she squeals, squirming in my arms as I suck a bruise onto her throat. Her voice cracks. "Jack. Jack ."

"I know, baby. I got you." I whisper, speeding up my movements. My free arm holds her tight. "Go on, baby."

Emily rocks against me, gasping out as she cums, clenching against my fingers as she buries her face into my neck. I feel my cock twitch pathetically at her noises, my fingers slowing down as she rides it out.

She sinks, boneless, into my arms afterward. I wipe my fingers onto the bedsheets and pull her close, kissing the side of her face, and she rests her head on my chest. I whisper sweet nothings, brushing her hair away from her face as we catch our breath.

Her chuckles are soft, and her eyes are closed as her hand tangles in my hair. "Not bad for being gravely injured, Davis."

I squeeze her hips, whispering. "Shut up."

She kisses my chest on top of my heart.

"Knock, knock," I open the door to the bookstore, walking in slowly. "Oh. Hey."

Nathan smiles at me, a bit confused from where he's perched on the counter. "Hey, dude."

I wasn't expecting him here. Shit. I feel like an ass. A week has gone by since dinner. Emily and I have been together since then, sneaking kisses and hanging about each other's spaces when we have the time.

I cough. "Is Emily here?"

"Present!" A familiar, sweet voice chirps from the stock room. Emily comes out, looking comfy in a sweater and a ponytail. Her eyes brighten when she sees me, and I feel myself melt.

"What can I help you with?"

"Mom said she placed an order with you?"

"Oh, yeah!" she turns back toward the room. "Give me a sec!"

I chuckle as she shuffles back in, looking awkwardly around the bookstore when I feel Nathan staring at me, a question in his eyes.

My mind fights for a conversation. "So, how—"

"Jack," he says, and I make a questioning noise. "That's my sister. You know that, right?"

"Yes," I reply automatically because it's true. His stare doesn't falter. It gets stronger. "Of course."

Nathan looks away. "Just remember that."