Sterling (Carolina Reapers 6)

“Jansen,” I said, my voice softening. “What’s that look?”

He pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes closing like an instinct had told him to hide.

“Talk to me,” I said, every sensation in my body switching from hungry to hopeful. We’d grown so close this last month, and yet there were still so many pieces of him I didn’t understand.

“You do make me happy,” he said, eyes still closed. “Are you happy with me, London?” he asked, drawing back enough to look at me again.

“You know I am,” I said, not at all frustrated with the question. I would tell him over and over again, I would show him as many times as I needed to until he understood that he was everything.

“Then why can’t we tell anyone?”

It was my turn to go utterly still. This conversation we’d had just once before. “You know why,” I said, blowing out a breath. “Our jobs—”

“If we’re honest, we might not get in as much trouble as you think.”

“I know,” I said, understanding his point. And I wanted to tell everyone. Wanted to be open about the joy Jansen brought to my life. “But I’m just finding my rhythm with my position,” I said, and he cocked a brow at me.

“You have excellent rhythm,” he said, gripping my hips again to jerk me against him. I hissed at the contact, warmth dancing along my spine.

“And you know Langley and Persephone warned me about dating the players,” I continued.

“Which means so much coming from women who married players,” he said.

I nodded. No argument there.

“Langley has handed me a huge assignment in the New Year’s Eve event,” I said. “One that will hopefully secure my position for next year instead of Sean.”

Sean was a great guy, a good event coordinator, but that spot on the Reapers was mine. I knew Langley would give him a good recommendation if the time came where I actually earned the one slot available, so I didn’t have time to let myself feel guilty. I would earn my position.

“I’m in charge and it’s the biggest event of the year,” I continued. “A huge fundraising event packed with fans, pro-athletes, and more. You know all the proceeds go to the Ronald McDonald House.” And we needed to prove to them that we had what it took to bring in the big donations. They had pro-teams nearly going to blows to be their chosen sponsorship of the year. Because not only did they have an incredible organization that provided housing and funds to families in need, but their media coverage was immense. Working together, everybody won. “If I screw it up, not only does the charity suffer—which is the absolute last thing I want—the team’s coverage will.”

Jansen sighed, his hands settling on my thighs. “And you think being honest about what’s going on between us will screw it up?”

I furrowed my brow. “No,” I said, almost whimpering when he stepped back enough to lean on the other side of the counter. He folded his arms over his chest. “Jansen,” I pled, shaking my head. “That’s not what I meant at all. Nothing with you would ever be a negative thing, it’s more…” I blew out a breath and hopped down from the counter. “It’s me,” I said, standing before him so I could catch his gaze. “I need this. To prove myself. To show the Reapers, the world, that I am not just Caspian Foster’s little sister. That he had nothing to do with my success on the team. That being Jansen Sterling’s…being yours isn’t what’s defined my status on the team.” I swallowed hard, reaching for the coiled muscle of his forearm. I smoothed my hand over it, sighing when he didn’t pull away “Haven’t you ever wanted to prove yourself?”

He unlocked his arms, bracing his hands on the counter as he nodded. “I understand better than anyone,” he said. “Why do you think I never claimed Sergei Zolotov’s last name? Never pulled his connection to me to get on an NHL team?”

A lump formed in my throat. Everything with his biological family was twisted, and with each layer he decided to show me, my heart hurt worse and worse.

“You didn’t need his name,” I said. “You have an insane talent on the ice, Jansen.”

He huffed, nodding.

“What happened?” I asked. “Between you and him?” I held my breath as I waited, patient. I would totally understand if he wasn’t ready, but I wanted him to know I cared. That I wanted to know all the pieces of him—no matter how dark they may be. Just like he knew mine. “You told me a little bit, but not the full story.”

He was quiet so long I thought he’d retreated, building walls to keep me out.

But then he loosed a long breath, and parted his lips. “Sergei met my mother after a game,” he said, shaking his head. “One of her friends had dragged her along.” He shrugged. “They did one of those meet and greet things you run so well.”