If It's Only Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 6)

He strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. “I do worry about you. My only girl. My sunshine. You’ve always carried so much for your brothers—always been there to help them navigate the emotionally muddy waters when they struggled. You’re like your mom like that. A light in the darkness.”

My chest shakes, and I draw in one ragged breath, then another. A tear plops onto the back of my hand, and Dad rubs it away with a trembling thumb.

“I hope you know how proud I am of you.”

“I do. I know.”

“I know you have more to worry about than boys and falling in love, but since I’m not going to be here, I want you to promise me you’ll protect your heart. Don’t give it to anyone who will be careless with it. Don’t settle for anyone who doesn’t make your soul sing.”

“Dad . . .” I shake my head. This isn’t fair, but we’ve had years we didn’t think we’d get, and I know it’s time. “I love you.”

He pats the back of my hand. “I love you too, sweet girl. To the moon and back.”

Another sob rips from my chest, and I sink to my knees beside his bed, letting my daddy stroke my hair with those frail hands that used to be so strong. Letting him comfort me through my tears one last time.

Easton

“Can’t you call him or something? Tell him who I am and that I want to see him?”

“Ma’am, no one is allowed back to the players’ rooms without prior authorization.”

I thought I recognized that voice when I got off the elevator, but I can hardly believe my eyes when I see Shayleigh Jackson arguing with security in my hotel.

“Please? We’re friends. He’ll want to see me.”

“If you’re friends, you should call him.”

“She’s with me, Troy.” I rush forward before Shay can do something reckless like try to push by him. I can’t see her face, but I can hear the desperation in her voice, and I wouldn’t put it past her.

Shay spins around and barrels into me, throwing her arms around my waist. I wrap her up against me and close my eyes as I memorize the feeling. It’s been so long and . . . God, when did she get so small? She feels tiny in my arms.

Troy arches a brow in question, and I nod, reassuring him that she’s welcome here.

I smooth back her hair and tilt her face up to meet mine. The tears rolling down her cheeks slice into me and hurt nearly as much as the news Carter delivered yesterday. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk in private.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I couldn’t fall apart on my family. I couldn’t do that to them.”

I kiss the top of her head. “You can fall apart on me. Come on.” I thread my fingers through hers and lead her to my room.

“You know? About Dad starting hospice?”

The door shuts behind me with an ominous thunk. Shay turns, folding her arms and searching my face as I nod. I haven’t been home in years, but tomorrow, when the Demons head back to L.A. on the team plane, I’m going to rent a car and drive up to Jackson Harbor. I have to see Frank one last time. “Carter called. He’s pretty torn up.”

“Me too.”

“Come here.” She doesn’t move, doesn’t drop her arms or rush toward me and bury her face in my chest like she did in the hall.

It’s as if now that we’re here, now that we’re alone, she’s second-guessing her choice to come to me, and I can’t have that. I close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. Her arms are still folded against her chest, but I stroke her hair, her back. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “It’s not fair.”

And I am. So sorry. Frank Jackson’s the closest thing I ever had to a father—which is a sad state of affairs, considering the man who provided half my DNA is still alive.

I feel the moment Shay surrenders to the need to be close to me. She drops her arms and wraps them around me. She stops reinforcing that dam inside her and lets it break. Her tears rack her small frame and she trembles in my arms, shakes and clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping this grief from pulling her under.

I don’t know how long we stand there—just inside my hotel room, my arms wrapped around her, her tears soaking my shirt—but when she pulls away, it’s with a deep breath and a lift of her chin that tells me she’s determined to be strong.

I search her face—those deep chocolate eyes I’ve dreamed of so many nights and the sweet pink lips that are pouty without trying. She searches mine in return, and I wonder if she’s missed me as much as I’ve missed her.