Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 80074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“I want to make love to you. Claim you. Slow, steady, all night long.”
The last words he said to me played in my mind over and over again with no end in sight.
It was amazin’ what the truth could do. I needed to be set free, and it felt as if I had been. Tellin’ Jackson Pierce all that lived in my mind for so long...
What tormented me.
Kept me up at night.
Consumed my thoughts every second of the day.
Silenced my conscience, my guilt, my fears.
Makin’ me wish I’d confessed it to him long ago. Maybe a huge part of it could also be that he told me he loved me. I never thought I’d hear the words.
I waited and waited and waited.
Nothin’.
We’d both made mistakes. I didn’t know if we could move past them. So much had happened, and yet so much had stayed the same.
Our relationship needed to evolve, progress into a stable, healthy dynamic. Where we communicated in the right and proper ways. Where we listened to each other, respected one another, and saw eye to eye. No longer continuin’ our childish ways for our own selfish reasons.
The biggest questions of them all were...
Did I still love him?
Could I forgive him?
Could I love and forgive myself?
From the corner of my eye, Jackson once again caught my attention. With the football in his grasp, he was haulin’ ass down the field. Out of nowhere, this uneasy feelin’ came over me as if somethin’ bad was about to happen.
The sick feelin’ in my stomach intensified, and I found it hard to breathe. When all of a sudden, one of his teammates charged him below the waist. Hittin’ him as hard as he could. The momentum of Jackson’s runnin’ caused his body to tumble over the player.
“No!”
He did a three-sixty in the air, catapultin’ and landin’ right on his head when he hit the ground.
I ran.
I ran as fast as I could to him.
To my life on that field.
Dartin’ out the door, down the long, narrow hallway, takin’ three steps at a time tryin’ to get to him.
Faster and faster.
My adrenaline hammerin’ so fuckin’ hard, pantin’ to the point of pain. My lungs were on fire. I’d never run so fast in my life. Losin’ my footin’, I fell down the last four steps on the stairs. Hittin’ my head against the pavement.
Instantly, seein’ stars.
“Ah!” I screamed, pushin’ through the haze. Stumblin’ to get up, I continued on my way.
Every menacin’ thought crossed my mind. The silence was deafenin’ all around me, until I finally reached the field.
Jackson was still lyin’ on the ground.
His eyes shut.
Not movin’.
I felt my face pale. All the blood drained from my body, causin’ shivers to course through me. I shuddered, suddenly cold. My head poundin’ with intense pain. The hair on my arms stood on edge. Frantically tryin’ to ignore the nervous and fearful feelin’ settlin’ in my core, I focused on the task at hand.
Gettin’ to him.
My heart pounded so profusely I found it fuckin’ hard to breathe. My mind raced, and my chest heaved with each passin moment, escalatin’ with every step bringin’ me closer to him.
His coach, trainer, and team doctor were crouched down by his side. Clappin’ their hands in his face, tryin’ to get him to wake up.
“Jackson!” They clapped. “Wake up!”
Panic began to set in, and I could no longer control my thoughts from runnin’ wild. I anxiously tried to find my resolve though it was no use.
It was long gone.
It wasn’t until his teammates stopped me that I really lost my shit. They held me back and away from him.
“Get off me! Let me go!”
“Harley, calm down! Let them do their job!”
“Fuck you! I’m his wife!”
It was the first time I’d ever called myself that and meant it in every form possible. I was indeed his wife.
“Relax! You’re no good to him like this!”
Without hesitation, I did what came natural to me. I kneed him in the balls. He fell over, and I didn’t waver. I ran to my boy.
My bully.
My Jackson.
It was my knees that touched the field first as I skidded to him. Landin’ right at his side.
“Jackson! Wake up! You need to wake up!” Glarin’ at his coaches, I seethed, “Why isn’t he wakin’ up?”
“The ambulance is on the way,” his coach responded while the medic kept tryin’ to get Jackson to come to. Shinin’ a light in his eyes, wavin’ a smellin’ salt stick under his nose. A strong smell of ammonia assaulted my senses. “Harley, you’re bleedin’. Are you alright?”
I touched my forehead, seein’ blood on my fingers for the first time.
“I’m fine. He’s still not movin’!” I frantically gazed back and forth between them. “Why isn’t he wakin’ up?!” I scooted closer to his face. “Rudolph! You need to wake up! Please wake up! I can’t lose you! Bailey needs you! I need you! Wake up!”