Page 61 of Power Forward

“Three hot chocolates in the souvenir cups and one child-size hot chocolate,” Jackson says.

“They have gingerbread cookies!” Ryan points to the menu board.

“And two gingerbread cookies,” I chime in, earning another high five from Ryan.

“Yes!” Isabela chants, clapping her hands.

I shift to pull out my wallet, but Jackson drops his hand to curve around my hip and squeezes. He gives me anI don’t think solook andtaps his phone on the card reader.

“Why don’t you and Iz grab that table,” Jackson suggests, pointing to a high-top table to the left. “Ryan can help me carry the drinks over.”

I hold my hand out to her, and she grabs hold of it, marching me over tothe empty table.She twirls around the table post, then stops in front of me and beckons with her mitten-clad hand.

I try to hide my grimace as I crouch down, my hips and knees protesting the movement. Fuck, it’s like my bones are grinding together.

“What’s up?” I ask her quietly.

She eyes me for a moment, suddenly turning all shy. I catch Jackson’s eyes the second she wraps her arms around my neck. His eyes widen in surprise, but his broad smile hits me square in the chest. My breath hitches. I wrap one arm around her, not quite sure how to take this sudden burst of affection. My eyes burn despite the frigid weather, and I quickly wipe at them when she takes a step back, then returns to twirling around the table as if she didn’t just shift my world on its axis.

All the pain that spikes through my body when I stand back upright is ignored because holy fucking shit. I’m stunned by the realization of how significant this is. Jackson has told me all about how Isabela doesn’t take too well to new people, and here she is, openly offering her affection to me after a couple of weeks.

It’s not just Jackson’s heart you’re at risk of breaking by being a fuckup. It’s theirs too.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push the negative voice away. I know I can’t think like that. I’ve worked too hard to allow the voice to win when I’m finally in a good place. I can’t allow the doubt and the anxiety to ruin what could possibly be the most perfect thing I’ll ever have.

Jackson and Ryan carry the hot chocolates over to the table, and he must sense that I’m struggling to keep my emotions in check.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, brushing his hand over mine when he hands over my drink.

“Yeah,” I croak. I give a shaky nod and clear my throat. “Yeah, I am. Wow, these look great.”

“Did you know they use a special whipped cream, so it cools it down a lot quicker than an ordinary hot chocolate?” Ryan tells me.

I glance at Jackson, silently asking,How is he so grown-up?But he answers with a shrug.

“Daddy!” Isabela appears from under the table and jumps up and down at Jackson’s side, tugging on his arm. He scoops her up with ease, holding her up in one arm, and takes a sip of his hot chocolate. It has a scoop of homemade whipped cream and a small gingerbread cookie. She plucks the cookie from his mug and takes a huge bite, then proceeds to spray crumbs everywhere when she bursts into a fit of giggles at his shocked expression.

“Did you just steal my gingerbread?” He mock gasps. “Isabela Wilde, you little thief,” he tsks, which only makes her laugh harder.

“Can’t take her anywhere.” Ryan rolls his eyes, echoing Jackson’s words from earlier, and I snort with laughter.

As I watch the three of them laugh and joke over thestolen gingerbread, I make a silent oath that while I’m on this earth, I’ll never do anything to risk hurting them. I’m still a work in progress, and I’m never going to be truly fixed, but they are quickly becoming my entire world.

And I’ll do anything to protect their happiness.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jackson

I gently close Ryan’s bedroom door behind me and pray that my kids will sleep through most of the night. They were pretty wiped out from being outside all day at the market, and they fell asleep the second their heads hit the pillow. I purposely kept them awake for as long as possible in hopes they will sleep in their own beds tonight.

Because Ineedsome alone time with Hayden.

I need to touch him without the worry that one of my kids will wake up and need me to lie with them.

And I need to taste him more than I need my next breath.

When there’s no sound coming from either of their rooms, I rush downstairs as quietly as I can. I find Hayden in the kitchen, chopping up the leftover strawberries we had to buy on the way home because Ryan wanted to recreate the pancakes we had earlier.

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