I Want You Back

by Lorelei James

  His.

  The relentless rhythm he set never faltered as he kissed the slope of my shoulder. The man was a multitasking master, keeping his hand spread between my hip bones over my mound so he could stroke me and hold me in place as his other hand toyed with my breasts.

  “Tell me you’re close,” he panted against my temple. “Christ, I need to work on my stamina, because I’m about to blow.”

  “Then do it. Do it as you’re kissing me.”

  “Lu-cee.” He said my name as a drawn-out groan, the last syllable vibrating against my mouth before our lips met in a hungry kiss.

  He slammed into me twice more and then his body shuddered against mine.

  I loved the energy I felt in that moment moving from him to me, proof of how powerful this love was between us.

  Jax didn’t break any part of our connection, his hips still pumping slowly, his fingers still stroking me, that perfect mouth of his still owning me with every sweet suck of my tongue and every damp slide of his lips across mine.

  After he ended the kiss, he nuzzled the side of my throat as he pulled air into his laboring lungs. “I love you. So fucking much.”

  I pushed upright from the wall and reached back to clamp a hand on his ass cheek, and twisted my other arm over my head, wrapping it behind his neck. “Mmm. I love you so fucking much too.”

  “We should quit our jobs and spend every hour that Mimi is in school in bed. Can you imagine how killer my stamina would be?”

  I nipped his jaw—hard—and he hissed. “You have like ten businesses you’re running. Speaking of . . . Maybe this isn’t the time to bring it up—”

  “Unless you’re bringing up being ready for round two . . . I don’t even want to think about work when I’m still buried inside you and my dick is still half-hard.” His hands gravitated to my hips and he gently pulled out. Then he kissed my temple and retreated.

  I righted my own clothing and turned around to see he’d gotten dressed and was wiping off his hands with antibacterial wipes.

  Then he said, “If I make this my main office, I’ll have to install a private bathroom.”

  No communal bathrooms for the rich. I understood it went deeper than that, but I opted not to comment. When he offered me the wipes, I took one of those without comment too.

  Three knocks sounded on the door and Jax grinned at me. “Maybe my lack of stamina isn’t such a bad thing. Not enough time for us to get interrupted.” He planted a kiss on my mouth. “But I still owe you one later tonight.”

  Jax opened the door and Margene paused in the doorway. “What’s up, Margene?”

  “Gabi asked me to come and get you. She needs you”—she looked at me—“both of you in the arena.”

  My stomach clenched. “Mimi?”

  “Yeah, but she’s not the injured party.” Margene’s eyes held wariness. “The boy she bodychecked is.”

  Twenty-two

  JAX

  Margene didn’t say another word as we left the office and entered the rink.

  Gabi had separated the kids—Mimi on one end of the players’ bench and the kid she’d supposedly bodychecked on the opposite end.

  I withheld a groan. Of course the kid in question had to be Thomas, the biggest boy on the team. My gaze scanned the spectators’ area, but I didn’t see his parents.

  Before I stepped onto the ice, I looked at Lucy. “Stay here.”

  “Like hell, Lund. This isn’t a coaching problem or an owner’s problem but a parenting problem.”

  Gabi stopped me right off the bat. “Two things, Stonewall. First, you’re a parent in this situation and understand that I cannot give Mimi special treatment. Second, I don’t know why your brother was here for just a practice, but he caught the incident on his camera if you want to look at it.”

  Nolan ambled down, leveling animosity at Gabi before he looked at me, then Lucy. “It’s cued up to the right spot. Hit play.”

  Lucy leaned in and we watched on the small screen as Mimi skated, hell bent for leather, right at Thomas, slamming him into the boards with a perfect body check. He went down; she skated around him and added insult to injury by spraying ice in his face.

  Jesus.

  I watched it again. Then I said to Nolan, “Could you forward that to me, please?”

  “Of course. But you should know why—”

  “You aren’t a parent, pretty boy, so your comments are irrelevant,” Gabi snapped. “Thank you for your assistance and take your seat. Or leave.”

  “You’re welcome, Gabriella.”

  “Coach Welk,” she snapped.

  “Where are Thomas’s parents?” I asked Gabi.

  “He said his dad is out of town this week and his mother dropped him off because she had to get his sister to dance class. She should be here shortly.” Gabi pointed to the seats off to the left of the bench. “We’ll deal with this when practice is over. The other players shouldn’t lose ice and coaching time when none of them are at fault.”

  I muttered my agreement.

  The next forty-five minutes were as hellishly long as I suspected they’d be.

  At least the other kids were having a great practice. They’d shown dramatic improvement.

  A harried-looking woman I remembered from the showdown with Dennis seemed confused as to why her son sat on the bench. When she tried talking to him, he ignored her.

  Mimi hadn’t looked at us even one time either.

  Not that Lucy would’ve known if she had, as she was furiously texting with someone. Casually I said, “Remember our first meeting and I was annoying cell phone guy? You’re about there, babe.”

  “Wrong. I’m not talking at a thousand decibels. I’m having a silent discussion with your brother.”

  “That’s so much better. Now I have to think about you and Nolan text fighting about him warning Gabi off Saturday night. It’s not like I don’t have enough to worry about, with Mimi getting suspended the first week I own this facility. Or the deeper issues of her sudden aggressive behavior on the ice stemming from her unhappiness at home. And Margene asking if Lakeside is still hosting a huge holiday party for all the members. Which reminds me that Thanksgiving is next week, then it’s Mimi’s birthday and Christmas will be here before we know it. So do we spill the beans to our daughter about the fat man in the red suit? Because are kids still supposed to believe in him at her age? Then it’s New Year’s and Gabi is gone to the Olympics in South Korea for three weeks, which puts me right back in the coaching position that Mimi doesn’t want me in. Will that give her an excuse to revert to this behavior we’re dealing with today that she knows is wrong because she needs my attention?”

  Two cold hands landed on my cheeks, and I found my face being turned toward Lucy’s.

  “Breathe with me,” she said quietly, but firmly.

  “Lucy—”

  “Do the thing with your hands. Open, close. Open, close. Come on, Jax.”

  “How’d you know about that?”

  “I watch you, man of mine, just as closely as you watch me.” She brushed two soft kisses across my lips. “Now, unless you wanna make out with me, right here, right now, to take your mind off all this stuff you finally shared with me, take a deep breath in.”

  I did and curled my hands into fists.

  “Good. Let it out.”

  I released the tension and my fists on the exhale.

  We did that two more times until she dropped her hands and I could do it on my own.

  Pushing me toward that structure helped me sort through my chaotic thoughts and compartmentalize what I could. The rest of it . . . I let go.

  Lucy reached for my hand. “Better?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “I should be thanking you. I’d started adapting that technique when I was stressed at home, instead of reaching for booze, which is a goo
d habit now that we’re living together.”

  I squeezed her hand. “I don’t expect you to give up alcohol.”

  “I’m not. I’m fine being an occasional social drinker. But our home will be booze-free.”

  I brought our joined hands to my mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I love you.”

  The whistle blew, forcing our attention away from each other.

  Gabi dismissed the rest of the team and signaled for us to come in directly behind the bench.

  “What’s going on?” Thomas’s mother asked.

  “We had an incident earlier. Mimi”—she gestured for her to stand up—“bodychecked Thomas. It’s a long-standing rule in hockey that there is no checking in the eight and under age group during a game, say nothing of in practice, and there’s never any checking at any age level in the girls’ or women’s divisions.” She looked at Mimi. “Which I’ve repeatedly reminded everyone.”

  “Oh, thank the lord,” Thomas’s mother said. “I thought maybe Thomas had crashed into her.”

  Wait. What? She wasn’t angry?

  “It was more than a simple crash, Sheila,” Gabi said carefully. “Mimi went after Thomas on purpose and knocked into him hard enough he’ll have bruises on his bum.”

  Thomas’s mom harrumphed. “I’ll bet her coming after him wasn’t entirely unprovoked, was it, son?”

  Thomas hung his head and muttered.

  She poked him on the shoulder. “Speak up so everyone can hear you.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “What did you say to her?”

  “That girls shouldn’t play hockey with boys because they aren’t tough enough and they can’t even bodycheck. And the only reason Mimi was on the team was because of her dad being famous.”

  Beside me, Lucy sucked in an indignant breath.

  Sheila forced Thomas to turn around. “We’ve talked about this. That is bullying and baiting and completely unacceptable.” She poked him in the chest. “You are a big kid and it doesn’t matter if you bully with your body or your mouth. And I won’t stand for it, Thomas.”

  Gabi seemed at a loss for what to do, then she rallied. “Lakeside has a zero tolerance policy for disregarding standard hockey rules as well as a zero tolerance policy for bullying.” Her gaze moved from Thomas to Mimi and back again. “Since you both broke the rules, you’re both suspended for one game and one practice session. Sitting on the bench tonight doesn’t count. I’m disappointed in both of you. Very disappointed. Head into the changing rooms and apologize to your teammates. You’re supposed to be a team; you work together, not against each other. Now scram and get changed.”

  Then Gabi looked from us to Thomas’s mother. “The matter is settled. No need to further hash it out. Obviously as parents you can do whatever you want as far as additional discipline. But when I was a kid, official discipline from the coach was worse than anything else—except my parents not allowing me to play hockey at all as punishment. So keep that in mind. I’ve already been the bad guy today.” Her gaze flicked to someone behind us. “It’s a role I’m familiar with. Now excuse me, I’ve got another class to teach.” She skated away.

  I hadn’t expected that. Neither had Lucy. She leaned over and said, “Can Gabi run the entire hockey program?”

  “Yeah, but she doesn’t want to. She wants to coach.”

  “Jax. Who’s going to be running it?”

  “Me. For now.” I stood. “There’s a few things I need to wrap up before I come home. I won’t be long.” I leaned down and smooched her mouth, just because I could.

  * * *

  • • •

  After owning the rink for just a few days, I knew the place could eat up my life in a way that the bar never did. And if I created a nice office space for myself, I’d end up being there all the time, which defeated the purpose of starting over with Lucy and took time away from Mimi.

  But I couldn’t just tell Margene to handle everything either. That’d been the issue with Lakeside—an absent owner and no one on the staff knowing who was in charge. I’d have to interview potential managers once we determined the long-term and short-term goals for the facility.

  Life had been so much easier when all I had to worry about was playing hockey.

  The next week the family counselor we’d chosen had requested to meet with Mimi alone for the first appointment. Lucy and I met with her afterward and were shocked at all the things the counselor had found wrong with our child. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to lash out at the supposed professional for her comments about Mimi being egotistical, manipulative and unmotivated as well as suffering from ADHD and only child syndrome—I hadn’t even known that was a thing.

  By the end of the hour, my hand had hurt from where Lucy had squeezed it so hard. Her tears soaked my shirt after we finally escaped from the counselor’s berating. It just reminded me how lucky I’d been in finding a counselor who helped me through my recovery, because not all counselors were created equal.

  It was the first crisis Lucy and I faced together as parents. We weren’t sure how much truth there was to the counselor’s claims and if we’d downplayed Mimi’s behavioral issues because we loved her and chalked it up to Mimi being . . . quirky little Mimi. Figuring out the next step—whether we should contact a different counselor or muddle through on our own—ate at both of us, especially when Mimi wasn’t acting out and seemed to accept the new reality that she lived with her mom and dad together as a family.

  Thanksgiving week started out with a bang, Lennox giving birth and my cousin Brady being over the moon about their baby boy, Jaden Ward—whom I’d already nicknamed JW. Lennox’s absence from the PR department meant Lucy had to stay late to catch up, leaving me and Mimi to make Thanksgiving preparations.

  I’d lived my entire life clueless about family holiday expectations. My folks and brother showed up wherever we were playing Thanksgiving week because there wasn’t a break in the hockey schedule. Since the rest of my family would be scattered—Ward and Selka, Rowan and Calder, Walker and Trinity and their son were traveling to Detroit to watch Jensen play; Annika would be on the East Coast for Axl’s back-to-back games; my uncle Monte and aunt Priscilla, Ash and Dallas would be with Priscilla’s family down South—that left my immediate family. Now my immediate family included Lucy’s sister, Lindsey, their mother, Jill, and her companion, Benny. So bighearted Lucy had invited everyone to our place for the big meal. A meal that she passed off to me when she had to deal with both Lennox and Annika being gone from LI at the same time.

  My mom volunteered to help, but dammit, I had my pride. I’d been taking cooking classes for a few years. How hard could it be? Plus, I had Mimi as my trusty helper.

  But we ended up staying late at Lakeside on Wednesday night, and by the time we returned from the grocery stores—which had taken two hours because who knew all the stores would be that busy?—it was after eight P.M. and we hadn’t cracked open a single can for pumpkin pie.

  The kitchen disaster started when Mimi dropped an entire bag of flour on the floor from counter level.

  We burned the pies, filling the kitchen with black smoke that set off the smoke detectors.

  A can of whipped cream spontaneously blew up in the refrigerator.

  I realized I didn’t have a pan large enough to roast the gigantic turkey, and the turkey was still mostly frozen.

  We forgot to buy potatoes. How had that happened?

  Lucy came home to find me and Mimi sitting on the kitchen floor, eating raw chocolate chip cookie dough for supper because that was the one thing we hadn’t fucked up.

  Did she lecture me?

  Nope.

  Did she sigh and take over food prep?

  Nope.

  She grabbed a spoon and joined us.

  In that moment, my life was absolutely perfect.

  In the hour following ou
r cookie dough binge, Lucy called five shelters, found the one that needed volunteers, ordered an astronomical amount of food from a dozen different carryout places and hired a delivery service to pick it up and drop it off in the morning.

  Our family dinner plans changed. The guests who thought they were dining with us ended up helping us serve food at the shelter. Then afterward, we had everyone back to our place for pizza, ice cream, homemade cookies and games. We’d ended up with extra guests—Gabi, whose parents were in Tampa with her sister Dani as she prepared for the Olympics; Simone, who had no family; Martin and Verily, my former neighbors from Snow Village; Flynn, one of the coaches at Lakeside, and his wife, Suzie; and a surprise visit from my Lund cousins from Duluth, Zosia and Zach, who were flying out of Minneapolis the next morning for a fishing vacation in Florida.

  Everyone said it’d been the best Thanksgiving they could remember and they couldn’t wait to do it again next year.

  A family tradition had to start somewhere, and for once I’d been a part of starting something.

  Sunday afternoon we got to meet the newest Lund when we dropped a meal off for Lennox and Brady. Seeing JW . . . I got a little melancholy. I hadn’t been around during Mimi’s baby years and hated that I’d missed so much.

  And Mimi, who’d declared “I never want you to have another baby” earlier in the month, completely changed her mind upon seeing her new baby cousin. She announced she’d break the pinkie promise she’d made with Calder that they’d run away if either Lucy or Rowan got pregnant.

  Kids. Never a dull moment with them.

  The other good thing that came out of the visit to Lennox and Brady’s was meeting Lennox’s best friend Kiley, who was a counselor and a social worker. Lucy spilled her guts to Kiley about the other counselor’s diagnosis of Mimi, which spoke volumes of how much it’d bothered her, because she never brought strangers into our business. Kiley said she’d be happy to observe Mimi in a couple of different social situations and give us her honest opinion.