All Chapters of Project Heartbreak: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The week bled away, and the strangest thing happened. My mind, once a tangled map of Asher-related daydreams and anxieties, had been wiped clean. Every thought, every idle moment, began and ended with Jax. The memory of my crush on Asher felt like something that had happened to another person in a distant lifetime. When Asher stopped me in the hall to thank me for the help, his easy smile didn’t send a single flutter through my stomach. I just smiled back, said “no problem,” and kept walking, my mind already drifting to wondering what Jax was doing.The only thing stranger than my own mental shift was Orhan’s. My brother, the connoisseur of cynicism who usually communicated in grunts and eye-rolls, had become inexplicably, bizarrely fixated on Asher.“So,” Orhan announced on Wednesday, marching into my room and plopping onto my bed. I was knee-deep in calculus, trying to figure out where I’d gone wrong. “The Asher Hayes due diligence. We need to go deeper.”I put my pencil down, baffl

Jax drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console between us, his fingers still dirty from the field. The scent of him filled the small space, making me lightheaded.I stared straight ahead, my hands clenched into fists on my knees. The number 6 on the jersey felt like it was burning a brand into my skin.I stole a glance at him. A small, satisfied smile played on his lips. He looked… peaceful.“You were incredible,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “That tackle…”He glanced over, his green eyes warm. “Had to. Couldn’t have my guy watching us lose from the stands.” His fingers brushed against my knee, a quick, electric touch. “Especially not in my jersey.”We pulled up to a modest, quiet house. I’d never known where he lived. I’d always imagined something colder, more imposing. This just look normal.He killed the engine. “My aunt, and my cousin,” he said, as if reading my mind. His voice was flat. “They’re visiting family. Out of Town for a week.”The imp

He kissed me, deep and slow, his tongue tasting himself in my mouth. He didn’t seem to mind the mess, the fact that I was still trying to catch my breath. He seemed to revel in it.“Still nervous?” he murmured against my lips, his hands sliding from my shoulders down my back, under the jersey.“I’m... recalibrating again,” I managed, and he let out a low, genuine laugh that vibrated through my entire body.“Recalibrate after this,” he said, and then he was pushing me back onto the bed, his body coming down over mine. The weight of him was solid, real, pinning me to the mattress. He kissed me again, harder this time, all teeth and tongue and raw hunger, before his mouth began to travel.He kissed my jaw, my throat, sucking a mark into the soft skin that made me cry out. “Jax...”“Shhh, I’m not done with you,” he muttered, his hands pushing the jersey up. He didn’t take it off. He just exposed my skin inch by inch, his mouth following the path of the rising fabric. He kissed my collarbo

The first thing I was aware of was the light. It was the bold, accusing glare of afternoon sun slicing through the blinds. The second thing was the pain. A deep, muscular ache that seemed to radiate from my very bones. I tried to move and a pathetic groan escaped my lips. My body felt like it had been put through a woodchipper and then hastily reassembled by a careless intern.Memories of the night before flooded back in a heated, hazy rush. The way Jax’s hands had felt on my skin. The things he’d whispered in the dark, his voice a rough prayer against my ear. The sheer, overwhelming everything of it all. I’d passed out, a complete system shutdown from pure, unadulterated exhaustion.I was wearing clean clothes. Soft, grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt that smelled overwhelmingly of Jax’s laundry detergent. And him. He must have cleaned me up and dressed me after I’d conked out. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through me, part embarrassment, part something else entirely.He was

A soft knock sounded on the door behind my head.I flinched, holding my breath.“Elliot?” Orhan’s voice was small, muffled by the door.“Go away, Orhan,” I said, my voice thick and watery. “I’m not in the mood for you.”There was a pause. I could practically hear him thinking on the other side of the door.“You’re crying,” he stated.“I’m not.”“You are. I can tell. Your vocal cords are constricted. Your voice is doing the wobbly thing it does when Mom watches those sad movies.”I let out a wet, choked sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. “Just go away, please.”Another pause. Then, the sound of him sliding down to sit on the floor.“You were gone all night,” he said, his voice clearer now, right next to my ear through the barrier. “And you came back in different clothes. And now you’re crying on the floor.” He processed this aloud, piecing together the evidence. “So. He did something bad.”I squeezed my eyes shut, fresh tears leaking out. “You could say that.”“Did he… hurt you?” The