Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

2018

“Fuck,” I exhaled.

Just. Like. That.

“I knew you were awake…”

I grinned sleepily and pulled back the covers.

Good morning to you.

He sucked me back into his mouth, eyes filled with amusement and delicious heat. Fuck me, he was so sexy. Perfect bed head—and possibly some scratches on his neck from last night.

I folded an arm under my head and sucked in a breath as he traced his tongue along my cock. I pulled up one knee a bit too, in case he wanted more access. Then I felt something bumpy under my shoulder blades, and I dug out a balled-up towel. Christ, we’d crashed fast after our shower. I tossed it on the floor before getting comfortable again.

I groaned and wove my fingers through his hair. “I fucking love how you suck me.”

He hummed around my cock.

My man was on a mission this morning. I knew what that meant. He hadn’t gotten his fill after last night. To be fair, we’d been drunk and exhausted. It’d been an uncoordinated fuck that’d resulted in scratches and a broken lamp once everyone had left his house.

We’d hosted an awesome Halloween party, though.

The only thing that bothered us was having to hide. No public displays of affection. No lingering looks—okay, some. But the sneaking around would be over soon. Very soon.

Jake redoubled his efforts and made me moan embarrassingly loudly until I was fucking his mouth and coming down his throat. Jesus Christ. I panted and swallowed dryly, and he gave me zero time to recover. He was gonna take what was his now. I shuddered violently.

“Baby…face down, ass up.” He got off the bed and stroked himself as he grabbed the oil from the nightstand.

“Mmm…” I rolled over and positioned myself closer to the edge of the bed. Knees parted wide and kept close to my stomach, elbows hitting the mattress, leaving my ass completely exposed to him. “Come and get it.”

Definitely our favorite position. He slicked himself up and remained standing on the floor.

He smacked my ass, and I hissed.

“Can’t get what’s already mine.” He bent over me and pressed a kiss to my spine. “Say it.”

Gladly.

“All yours, Jake.”

“That’s my boy.”

God.

I fisted the sheets and drew an unsteady breath as he swiped his tongue over my asshole. And he didn’t stop there. He never did. He tongue-fucked me softly, teasingly, while he rubbed oil into my spent cock.

It was a wonderful mindfuck to be physically satisfied and mentally horny as hell. His ministrations built up pressure deep inside me, and he was in no hurry. He kneaded my ass cheeks and pierced me with his tongue as his scruff rasped against my sensitive skin.

He squeezed my balls gently and fucking suckled at my ass.

“You dirty fuck.” A breath gusted out me, and I peered at him over my shoulder.

He hummed and raked his fingernails down the backsides of my thighs. Then he pushed me down more, and he stood up and wiped his mouth. “Push back. I wanna see you fuck yourself on my cock.”

“Okay.” I wet my bottom lip and wriggled my ass against him. He was rock hard and ready. “Give it to me. I’ll take care of you.”

“Damn right.” He stroked my ass and got me where I needed to be, and I got lost in a drawn-out shiver that coursed through me. That was step one in reawakening my body. Making me want more.

Perfect.

I pressed back on the head of his cock, and he disappeared inside. Just a couple inches.

“You know what to do when you want me to take over,” he said.

I nodded jerkily and started easing back and forth in short thrusts. “I’ll beg you till you call me good boy.”

Fuck, that felt good. I was still sensitive from my orgasm, tired and needy at once, mentally ready for round two. I pushed back harder and buried him all the way in, and that earned me more of his affectionate touches. I craved them. They were silent good-boys. That’s it, fuck yourself on me like that. Maybe we were always supposed to reach this point, but it’d begun as a fluke. He’d tied me up once. He’d become more dominant. I’d lost my filters and admitted to wanting to worship his body.

Now I couldn’t get enough of the rough and demanding man he turned into in the sack.

I’d known he had it in him from the fucking start.

I clenched down around his cock and took all of him, and he cursed and kneaded my ass cheeks more firmly.

“More, please,” I moaned. “Fuck me, baby. I need it.”

“You really fuckin’ do,” he murmured. “How hard?”

“So I’ll feel it when we go to the store later.” I let my forehead touch the mattress, and I gripped the sheets tighter. “Please. I need your perfect cock so bad.”

He chuckled huskily and slipped his hands to my hips. “I love it when you get all slutty for me.” He pushed in deep and stayed there for a beat. “When I get right here—every time—I want you to bear down so hard it feels like you’re milking my cock. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I groaned.

“Good boy.”

I flushed with heat and braced myself.

Two, three, four…deep, measured thrusts…and then he started fucking me harder. Faster. The bed shook. The air filled with our heavy breaths and the sounds of skin hitting skin. My cock became hard again, and I wedged a hand between myself and the mattress so I could stroke myself.

“Jesus fuck, how can you be so tight?” he gritted out.

Because I did my exercises like a good boy, of-fucking-course.

I planned on keeping my man satisfied for the rest of our lives.

I met his every thrust and clenched down as he’d told me, and it wasn’t just for him. He felt so fucking good when it hurt a little, when the last couple of inches of his cock had to be forced inside because the base of him was thicker.

When he began drilling into me, I knew he was chasing his orgasm. I stroked myself harder and felt the pleasure well up and tingle south, down my spine, to my balls. I started panting and moaning uncontrollably.

“Fill me,” I gasped.

“Yeah,” he groaned. “You’ll get every drop, boy.”

Boy.

I didn’t know why that term set me off the way it did, but I fucking loved how it stripped me of everything I identified with outside the bedroom. When he called me boy, I was just his. I existed solely for him and our pleasure. It was him and me against the world.

We didn’t warn each other. My orgasm crashed into me the instant he groaned the way he did right before he came, and then I was drowning in bliss again. Cold chills and heat waves rocked through me, leaving me a listless, panting, shuddering pile on the mattress. With a wet spot I’d like to avoid.

“Fuckin’ hell…” He pressed his forehead between my shoulder blades and breathed heavily. “Your body, darlin’…”

I exhaled a chuckle, then winced when he pulled out from me.

“Christ, that’s sexy.” He swiped the pad of his finger over my asshole, and of course that wasn’t enough for him. He had to finger-fuck me a little. “My boy’s all wet inside now.”

Oh my God. I laughed, whined, moaned, and cursed—he couldn’t say that to me now when I was so beyond spent I had no idea how we’d get to the store. We had to stock up before Colin and Sam came over.

“Save that for next time,” I managed to get out.

He chuckled warmly and pulled me back against his chest. “Good mornin’ to you too. Let’s take a quick shower before we head out.”

Right. I just had to make sure my legs could carry me.

* * *

An hour later, we were walking up and down the aisles of Ralph’s. We’d filled the cart with Colin-approved snacks for his lunch boxes, ready-to-microwave meals from the deli for the days we acted like we didn’t need to have food delivered all the time, cleaning supplies because the house looked like hell from last night, and all the frozen pizza our hearts desired.

I was a bad New Yorker, but I actually really fucking loved frozen pizza.

I had Sam and Casper on my side. Colin and Jake were Team Deliver.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I hoped it wasn’t Sandra. I’d told her I would be home around three. She obviously hadn’t been interested in coming to the party, so she was at home with the kids.

Thankfully, it was just Zach who’d texted.

Hey! Just wanted to say thanks for a great party last night. And also, are you by any chance at Ralph’s now? (Stalkery explanation: I was getting gas next door and spotted the Condor Chicks sticker on your car.)

I snorted a chuckle and texted back.

I’m inside with Jake. Yeah, last night was awesome. I hope your hubby isn’t too hungover.

Zach and his man Henry were semi-new friends we’d met through Nikki. Zach was some type of model for the makeup brand Nikki’s boss ran, and it was from Zach we’d gotten the idea for our next docuseries project.

Given my…situation with Sandra…I hadn’t dared take on a project that involved any major traveling. Which was why we’d stayed on the West Coast lately, not counting a few trips to New York. We’d focused on selling international rights, concluding another Nomads season on our YouTube, pushing Off Topic to a broader audience, and publishing a coffee table book about LA food-truck culture. It was hitting the market in February, and Jake was adorably nervous about it.

“Should we buy more Cocoa Puffs?” Jake asked, holding a box. “Nikki wants me to eliminate sugar from the kids’ breakfast.”

“Then you shouldn’t. We’ll listen to Nikki,” I said firmly.

“All right, but they’re delicious.”

“And full of sugar.”

Jake was disgruntled. Even more so when I picked up a box that screamed “All bran” and “Whole grain.”

“There you are!”

We looked up toward the end of the aisle, and there was Zach.

“Am I missing something?” Jake raised a brow at me.

I shrugged. “He texted and thanked us for the party last night and mentioned he was outside.” As Zach came closer, I turned to him and jerked my chin. “Hey. I’m a little offended you don’t look dead.” He’d been wasted last night.

“Aww, thank you.” He grinned. “Anyway, there’s no easy way to approach this, so I’m just gonna blurt shit out in true Zach fashion.” But before he spoke another word, he looked around to make sure we were alone. What the fuck? “With discretion being a thing and all, is uh… I mean…the two of you…?” He gestured between us and lifted his brows.

He wasn’t imply— I mean, was he? Oh God. No. No, no, Jake and I were 100% discreet. Absolutely no one knew we were seeing each other in private, not even Nikki, who was the person Jake was the most honest with when it came to therapy and whatnot. Aside from me, obviously. Noone knew.

I noticed Jake had tensed up next to me.

I decided to play dumb. “The two of us what?”

Zach pursed his lips and eyed us. “Okay, I respect that. I won’t push. But metaphorically speaking, two hot guys dressing up as Simon and Garfunkel and singing ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ together is not only cute as fuck, it also raises some questions, especially if the hot guys spend the whole night attached at the hip. I’m just sayin’. But if I’m totally out there… I mean, I know you guys are close and all—so if I’m just standing here making a complete fool of myself, it was Henry’s idea.”

Holy shit. Right about now, I should have alarm bells going off inside my head, but that was very difficult when our buddy was rambling like a clown. He was too funny to be upset with, and I couldn’t muster any worry.

“It was totally Henry who put me up to this,” Zach lied.

We’d met Henry. Henry was this super-kind, older, smoking-hot gentleman. He hadn’t put Zach up to squat.

“That doesn’t sound like the Henry we’ve met,” Jake drawled. I drew immediate relief from his more relaxed stance.

I managed a smile and rubbed the back of my neck. One day soon, I would apologize to Zach for denying whatever vibe he’d picked up from us last night. It was almost over. It’d been a long, long year—more than that, even. But we couldn’t risk anything just yet.

“We’re sorry to disappoint, but we’re just really good at imitating Simon and Garfunkel,” I said.

Zach smirked a little. “I actually think they fought a lot, but…all right. I will quickly and painlessly change the topic and wish you a happy flight to my little hometown in a few weeks. I think we’ll be there when you arrive, so text me. We’ll have you over for dinner.”

“Count on it.” I nodded.

Once he’d left, I let out a breath and glanced at Jake.

He looked a little weary. “I can’t wait for this to be over.”

Me either. I was, of course, uncomfortable about telling Sandra I wanted a divorce, though it was nowhere near Jake’s level of discomfort at coming out publicly as gay. Not that we planned on shouting it from any rooftops, but considering our work and how many people followed us, some form of reaction was to be expected.

Jake had fought hard to accept both his sexuality and the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his parents, primarily his mother. Then there was the fact that Jake was simply a private guy. He didn’t thrive in the limelight. He liked his privacy. He loved that documentary filmmakers were relatively unknown even when they were very much accomplished. But our podcast had sort of ruined that anonymity. It didn’t bother me, but I felt for him. I did try to protect him from it.

“You ready to go home?” I murmured.

His house wasn’t my home. I just dreamed of the day it would be.

“Yeah.” He nodded with a dip of his chin.

Then he grabbed a box of Cocoa Puffs and headed for the registers.

I grinned and scratched my nose. Fuck, how I loved him.

* * *

“Hold on, connecting to Bluetooth. I just left the gym.” I backed out of the parking lot and waited for the sound to come through the car’s speakers. “Okay, shoot.”

Fuck, I was a sweaty mess. Jake’s idea for us to get personal trainers was seriously his worst ever. I hurt everywhere.

“Yeah, so Colin just came home from school,” Jake said. “I don’t know what any of this means, but he said his friend’s mom is shipping us online? What the fuck is that?”

Oh God. I cracked up and dug out a bag of chips from the glove box. Low-fat, high-protein, lackluster. “Don’t worry about it, hon. That’s been goin’ around a few years now. Happens to all kinds of famous people and characters. Basically, we have a minor following of primarily women who post gossip about us online, and they want us together. Remember Haley was into fanfiction about various book characters?”

“Vaguely,” he muttered. “You sure we have nothing to worry about?”

“I’m positive,” I promised. “Haley’s been on top of that since at least 2016.”

“All right.” He didn’t seem sure at all, which worried me. “I, uh…I still think it’s time I talk to Haley. Seth too. I mean, it’s not just about us. Haley will have front-row seats to the online reactions when we go public.”

That was certainly true.

Jake cleared his throat. “Is there any way you can come back to the office?”

Oh. He wanted to do it now? With me there?

“Absolutely, love,” I replied automatically. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thank you,” he said, audibly relieved.

This was a big deal for him, and I could swing it. As soon as we’d disconnected the call, I made a U-turn at the next intersection and called Sandra’s mom. She was more than happy to pick up the twins from day care for me. I promised I wouldn’t be long and that I’d bring dinner home with me.

Last but not least, when I stopped at a red light, I texted Sandra.

I’ll be a little late. No more than an hour or so. I’ll pick up food on the way.

There. Settled.

At the next light, I double-checked my calendar for the rest of the week. Adam and Callie’s eighteen-month checkup was on Wednesday, so I would skip out from work right after Off Topic. I was gonna ask the doctor about any possible long-term effects from Sandra’s depression. She had improved a lot—in the ways that she had more energy, she didn’t hate me as much anymore, she could put together simple meals, and she was almost completely “back to normal” when it came to Casper. It was the twins that worried me. Rather than focusing on repairing her relationship with our two youngest, she was talking about going back to work.

Adam and Callie were still so little that I had faith they wouldn’t remember a thing if Sandra just started prioritizing them a bit more now. But so far… It was rough. They knew who Mama was because I essentially used a photo of Sandra as a picture book to point her out and repeat the term. They didn’t naturally turn to her for anything because she didn’t pick them up. She wasn’t a permanent fixture in their lives, despite we all lived together. Despite we saw each other every day. Had dinner together most nights.

I pulled into the driveway outside the office and killed the engine.

Seth’s and Haley’s cars were outside on the street.

I reached the gate just as Colin left the house with his backpack in tow.

“Hey, little man. How was school today?”

“Hi! It was great. Dad asked if you can make sure I get home safe.” He rolled his eyes a little at that.

One day, he’d appreciate his dad’s protectiveness. “Of course. I’ll stay here.” We’d done this before. He thought he was too mature for me to walk him all the way, but I could wait at the gate and wave to him when he’d reached their house.

He shouldered his backpack and trailed up the sidewalk.

Li’l mini-Jake was growing up too fast. He’d even adopted Jake’s signature look with backward-facing ball caps.

Four doors down, he turned to me and waved.

I smiled and waved back. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart. Don’t forget to lock the door, and call if you need anything.”

“I won’t forget, bye!”

I waited a few extra seconds to make sure he got inside, and then I headed in too. I guessed Sam was with Nikki. I never knew. When Nikki and Russell had moved in together last year, they’d found a house just a couple streets away from here, so the kids came and went pretty much as they pleased.

I could only pray Sandra and I would get along somewhat after we’d split up officially. God knew we’d been over for a long time already. We hadn’t behaved like a married couple in ages. We’d spent Christmas last year with her family, and they knew shit was broken. We’d be in New York for Christmas next month, and they had their own questions about us. Aunt Elsie was “concerned.”

As I kicked off my shoes, I heard voices in the kitchen, so I went there.

Nice, everyone was gathered, and they’d prepared coffee too.

“Yo.”

“Hi again.” Haley looked confused. “Didn’t you leave earlier? Ew, you’re all sweaty.”

It was actually mostly dry by now, thank you very much.

“Did Bear get home all right?” Jake asked.

I nodded and sat down at the island, then answered Haley. “The boss summoned us all, so here I am.”

She laughed. “As if Jake’s the boss. Puh-lease.”

“I love you too, sis,” Jake drawled.

Seth sat patiently and just sipped his coffee.

“I know you do.” Haley blew Jake a kiss. “So why the sudden afternoon meeting? I have a date with my bathtub and a bottle of wine.”

Seth coughed and set down his coffee mug, and it was such a reaction that I immediately grew suspicious. I narrowed my eyes and glanced between him and Haley. Haley Denver had a good poker face. Seth Diaz, not so much. He might be built like someone you didn’t wanna meet in a dark alley, but off the clock, he was one of the kindest and most genuine people we knew.

It’d been a long time since he and his ex had broken up. Could there be something going on between him and Haley?

Jake was obliviously pouring coffee, reminding me that he was probably uneasy as fuck. So I racked my brain for something to say, and then he could jump in when he was ready—

“We gotta talk about something,” he said.

Okay, then.

He slid the coffee mug my way, and I nodded in thanks.

“Sounds serious,” Haley noted.

Jake cleared his throat, something he always did excessively when he was uncomfortable. “I don’t want it to be a big deal, and it’s nothing that will be brought to the public’s attention anytime soon. I mean, it depends how you define soon—in a few months or so.”

Fuck, I wished I could make this easier for him. His discomfort radiated from him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, then planted his hands on the countertop. He was the only one not sitting down.

Haley sensed something was off. Her usual playful attitude took a hike.

I knew Jake well enough by now to be able to tell he was at war with himself. He had the demons of his past piping up in the background, then a louder, thankfully stronger voice telling him to just spit it out. In no scenario was even the good-guy voice remotely nice. He was always hard on himself.

“I’m gay,” he said and lifted his gaze from his untouched coffee mug to Haley.

It was out there. I was so fucking proud of him, and I told myself not to get mushy. He’d said it. He’d been honest. He was being himself. Fuck me, don’t get emotional. But man, was he gonna get a blow job tomorrow. Actually, two. And so many hugs he’d get sick of me.

“Okay, um—processing.” Haley exhaled shakily and shook her head. “For a moment, I was waiting for you to say you had cancer or somethin’. Fuck. Okay.” Her eyes welled up, and she even laughed a little. “I’m sorry—this is…” She trailed off and turned to Seth. “Can you excuse us, please?”

What on earth was happening?

Jake had gone rigid, and Seth was confused. So was I. But Jake had no reason to worry, did he? Fuck no. Haley was open-minded. A vocal ally.

“Yeah, of course.” Seth got up from his stool. “Actually, I’m gonna head home.” He poured out his coffee in the sink, then clapped Jake on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man. Being true to yourself is where it’s at. See you tomorrow.”

I loved Seth. That was the reaction Jake wanted. Quick and painless.

“See you tomorrow,” I echoed.

Haley hadn’t asked me to leave, so I didn’t know what to do. I would stay until I picked up signs they needed privacy. Yeah. That was my plan.

Seth walked out the door a short moment later, and Haley sniffled and wiped her fingers under her eyes.

“How long have you known?” she asked.

I glanced hesitantly at Jake.

“A few years,” he replied quietly. “But…you know, I’ve had my issues…”

She nodded and seemed to fight harder to hold back tears. “That’s the problem. I do know, Jake. We grew up in the same house—and I can swear…” She turned to me, making me feel like I’d just been caught stealing. At the same time, she gave up on wiping at her face. “Do you remember when y’all came home from San Diego and told us about what’d happened with the Coast Guard? You said something about how you grew up with stories about your brothers getting shot and whatnot in Iraq and Afghanistan—but nobody ever mentioned the little things. The bruises and soreness and aches and whatever.”

I nodded, confused.

She gestured at Jake. “That was our childhood. Look—I know y’all are close, so I’m sure he’s told you all the worst things our parents did, but I was there for everything else. The tiny, everyday things that got drilled into our heads—” Her voice broke, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “And how Mom would micromanage Jake with snide remarks and passive-aggressive digs. And Dad’s fucking silence. He’s no better. He looked the other way. He didn’t want drama.”

Jesus Christ. I completely fucking froze and just felt this wave of grief wash over me. I’d never seen Haley so torn up. The anger, I was used to. She’d bitched and ranted about their parents many times over the years, but this ran so much deeper. She truly hated their parents, and she hated what they had done.

Haley slipped off her seat and rounded the island, and then she was in Jake’s arms. He tilted his face away from me, but I caught a glimpse of the impact his sister’s words had made.

“Promise me you’ll never fucking see them again, Jake,” she croaked. “I don’t want you near them. Or Colin and Sam.”

I had to look away from them, and I blinked past the sting in my eyes and subtly cleared my throat. It felt too thick, and I didn’t wanna make a sound.

“I have to confront them, Hales,” Jake murmured. His voice sounded off. He was struggling with his emotions too. “I-I need answers.”

My plans changed right then and there. We’d talked about this. How he was gonna fly out when the moment was right, and I was gonna wait here. And fuck that. I was going with him. If not to the house he’d grown up in, then at least to Norfolk. I had to be close by in case he needed me.

“Then I’m coming with you,” Haley said, sniffling. “I’ll pick up a shovel on the way.”

Jake chuckled thickly. “That’s not happenin’. You can’t control yourself.”

“They don’t deserve my self-restraint,” she bitched.

I discreetly wiped at my eyes before I turned to them again, and it was just in time for Haley to look over at me.

“Don’t let him go there alone, Roe.”

Easiest promise I could make. “I won’t.”

She nodded and stepped back. “I hope you haven’t gone through all this on your own, big brother. I’m not afraid to get a shovel for you too.”

Haley’s threats, I could handle.

“I haven’t been alone.” Jake smiled slightly and brushed a thumb under Haley’s eye. “I’ve had Roe and Nikki with me.”

“Good. I feel a bit excluded, but okay.” Her smirk was enough to let Jake know she was sort of kidding. “So, um…I’m not really ready to go home. Can we have dinner together? Maybe go over to your place and order pizza?”

As much as I would’ve preferred a moment alone with Jake—as in, see Haley off before I headed out—that sounded like a perfect idea for the siblings.

Jake’s soft grin spoke volumes too. He wanted an evening with his sister and son. “Sounds good to me.”

Which meant this was my cue to leave them alone, and I fucking couldn’t. I hadn’t anticipated a wrecking ball of feels at this hour, but here we were. I was gonna take off without a hug, without a kiss, without telling him I loved him so goddamn much.

“I should go home.” I reluctantly got out of my seat and carried my mug to the sink. I took two quick gulps and almost burned my tongue in the process. Then I poured out the rest before I turned around and saw the look in Jake’s eyes. And my resolve broke into a million pieces. He was trying to hide it behind his standard “Got it, firm nod” expression, but that hadn’t worked on me in years.

He was wrung out and needed me.

Fuck it.

I closed the distance between us and kissed him as I locked my arms around his middle. How quickly he hugged me back was all the reassurance I required.

“Well, okay…?” That was Haley.

“I love you,” I said against his lips. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

He smiled and cupped my cheek, and our foreheads touched. “I love you too.”

Always music to my ears.

I tilted my face to a Haley whose eyebrows were way up there.

“Keep this to yourself, hon. Nobody knows yet.”

Jake cleared his throat. “He’s leaving Sandra after the holidays.”

If I could wait that long. I was already jealous of their Christmas plans. Jake and Haley’s grandmother, Grandma Josephine—or as I called her, Grandma Jo-Jo—was coming to visit. Jake had the kids, so he’d invited Nikki and Russell over too.

“I feel less excluded.” Haley seemed satisfied. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Roe.”

What?

“Had what in me?” I withdrew from Jake and squeezed his hand briefly. “You knew I was bi, right?”

I mean, I’d told her years ago. With how I’d grown up, in a loving family and all, the coming-out thing had never been a big deal. Some knew, some didn’t.

Haley waved that off. “Nikki and I have been frustrated with your unwavering patience for Sandra—yeah, yeah, we’re bitches. Whatever. How many times has she tried to kick you out?”

Oh. I swallowed a rock of guilt, though it had lessened over time. “I’m not making any excuses. The honorable thing would’ve been to wait.” I’d chosen not to. I hadn’t had the strength. “I couldn’t leave Sandra while she was unwell, though. We agreed to get through this as parents—and then we’d decide after.”

Haley’s smile turned a little sly. “And you’ve already decided.”

I looked at Jake. “Yup.” And now I really had to go, even though my man looked so damn happy that I wanted to stay. “You owe your sister some details. Enjoy your pizza.” I kissed him chastely, firmly, before I eased back. “I’ll text you before I go to bed.”

He nodded and kissed my temple.

As I passed Haley, I thought twice about walking out, ’cause I wanted to make sure…

“We’re good, right?” I asked her.

She appeared surprised. “Why wouldn’t we be? Dork, I love you, and you evidently make my brother happy. I’ll find out the hows and whens over pizza—and we’re totally getting extra green olives.”

“The fuck we are,” Jake told her. “You keep those to yourself, you weirdo.”

All right, I was no longer needed here.

I drove home in a much better mood, and it felt good to know Jake and Haley would have the evening to themselves. They always had their semi-sweet sibling banter, but when push came to shove, she was protective of him, and he wanted to see her thrive.

I stopped at an Italian restaurant on the way and ordered food for half an army. I hoped Kathryn stayed for dinner. She managed to bridge some gaps between Sandra and me, and I just wanted to keep the peace for as long as possible. While I waited for the food to be ready, I headed next door to the Walgreens and picked up Callie’s vitamin supplements. My baby girl was fussier when it came to food. I also found a stand with pocket-sized coloring books, so I grabbed a couple for Casper. He looked up to Colin so much, and if Colin loved to sketch and draw, so did Cas.

I was home twenty minutes later, and I shouldered my gym bag and held the paper bag with our food from underneath. I didn’t trust the handles to hold.

Autopilot kicked in, like it always did when I parked outside what was supposed to be my home. Nodded to the doorman, got our mail, took the elevator up. Keep the peace, keep the peace. We had our plan. Get through the holidays, then sit down with Sandra and ask for a divorce. Hopefully keep the peace after that point too. Be patient. Handle any possible hostility before Jake and I could start dropping a couple subtle hints about us being more, both to Sandra and our followers. Which would, fingers crossed, cushion the blow for the day we ventured out in public as a couple. Unless Seth and Haley would have a better strategy. We didn’t know. They were sharp and knew the industry in ways Jake and I didn’t.

As I dug out my keys, I heard commotion from inside, and I stepped closer to the door.

“…still your children, Sandra.”

“You don’t think I know that?! But every time I look at them, I’m sucked back into how I felt when—”

“Please lower your voice, sweetie. I don’t want Casper to hear you.”

I clenched my jaw. By the sound of their voices, they were in the kitchen, and Casper’s room down the hall wasn’t too far away. Just past the living room.

“It makes perfect sense they might remind you of your depression, but you have to start somewhere.” Kathryn was pleading with her daughter to understand. “You can see your friends, you’re eating better, you’re talking about going back to work for your father, your bond with Casper is growing every day, and you’re slowly shouldering more responsibilities here at home again, but, Sandra, you have to try to connect to the twins. You cannot pretend like they don’t exist. It’s neglect. And I won’t stand for it. Neither will Roe.”

I took a steadying breath, having never appreciated my mother-in-law more.

“You will wake up one day with regrets,” Kathryn went on. “And do you think Casper won’t notice? Do you think he won’t bring it up when he’s older? He’s already so observant for his age. He’ll want to know why his mommy won’t spend time with his siblings.”

I swallowed hard. I feared Cas had already picked up on things. Sandra’s depression had cast a shadow over our condo, as depression always fucking did, and I would never blame Sandra for that. Ever. But it still came with consequences that affected everyone nearby, and Casper was too young to understand how and why. He just knew he couldn’t go near Mommy when she was sad and staying in bed. He was wary at times, and I’d caught him scolding Adam and Callie for crying too loudly more than once. Shit like that almost broke me. All I could do was explain to him as simply and diplomatically as possible—and take the kids out of the house often. I didn’t want them walking on eggshells.

Deep down, Sandra didn’t want that either. I had to believe that.

I almost missed her response to Kathryn. It was too quiet, but I heard something about her talking to Dr. Carlson at the next appointment. If I wasn’t mistaken, she had one next week.

* * *

Just a few days later, I had my bags packed in the hallway for our trip to northern Washington. Jake was picking me up in twenty minutes.

In the meantime, I was flat on my back on the living room carpet, and I had three giggling kids climbing all over me.

“Why do you—” I chuckled and pulled Adam’s hand out of my mouth. “Always—always with the hand in Daddy’s mouth. Why? Huh? Why, you little terror?” I tickled him.

He squealed and sat up to bounce on my chest.

“Oomph,” I coughed and stilled him. “Ouch! My fu—dge. Callie, don’t bite Daddy’s toes!”

“Dada, baba!” she laughed.

Casper snickered and dragged his sister away. “No biting, Callie! Daddy, ’member when Ninja was a baby and he bited me lots? He was like Callie.”

I laughed softly and automatically turned my head toward the couch. Ninja had two favorite spots to sleep when he wasn’t with Casper in his room—on the armrest of the couch, left side because it was sunny there, and the laundry basket in the bathroom.

The kitten we’d adopted for Casper’s birthday last year had well and truly become all his. He followed my boy around all over—but kept his distance from the twins. I couldn’t blame the little fella. It was a slow process to teach kids to respect animals. But Ninja had earned his name. He was good at evading the twins’ chubby paws.

I had to admit I’d grown attached to the cat too. I was more of a dog person, really, but Ninja was cute as fuck. Nearly black, with even darker stripes, one green eye, one blue.

It just wasn’t feasible for us to have a dog, partly because they needed more attention, partly because Sandra’s stipulation was “As long as I don’t have to care for it.”

Callie threw herself over my face, and I caught her just in time. I growled playfully and nibbled at her tummy. She laughed and thrashed like a fish on land. God—I didn’t want them to lose this adorable chubbiness.

“Gamma’s here!” Cas declared and sprinted out of the living room. “Hi, Gamma!”

“Hi, my sweetie pie!”

“Oh-hey.” I grunted and sat up, causing my chunky monkeys to fall down my lap. “Let’s get you ready for Gramma and Grampa.”

It was still too soon to leave Sandra alone, at least with the twins, so I was thankful for Kathryn swooping in. All the kids would stay with them while I was away, and Sandra would spend most of her time at their house too. It felt much safer for me as well. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to focus on my work if I knew she was on her own with the youngest.

Sandra’s dad had a golf tournament this weekend, so Kathryn was taking the kids to the zoo along with, I presumed, Sandra and the one brother of hers I got along well with. The other two were…let’s say aloof. They were all about finance and sports and taking selfies on yachts, whereas Todd was a family man and had two of his own.

Sandra emerged from the bedroom just as I ushered the twins into the kitchen, and I watched Adam barrel toward Sandra and latch on to her leg. In response, she smiled awkwardly and gently got herself free.

That never stopped hurting.

“Come here, baby.” I picked him up and blew a raspberry on his belly.

“I’m all packed and good to go,” Sandra said. “Did you heat the pool, Mom?”

I tuned out and focused on wrestling Adam and Callie into their shoes and jackets. Call it a warm-up before I had to catch Ninja and get him into his carrier. That was always an adventure.

* * *

“Would you like any more coffee, gentlemen?”

I glanced up from the book and smiled politely. “Thanks, we’re good.” Then I returned my attention to the book and waited till Jake gave me the nod to turn the page.

We should probably pack up soon. We were landing within the hour, and our tray tables were cluttered with printouts, notebooks, my laptop, and his iPad. This book was so damn interesting, though. Despite that the language was really fucking difficult. Written like a journal by an explorer in the early 1800s, it didn’t help much that the book had been translated in the eighties. Several words still flew right by me, though we got the gist—and the gist was enough to make the text riveting. Jake and I sat shoulder to shoulder and knew we had our next major project.

He grabbed one of the markers on my table and highlighted “Ilunga Tshibinda” on the page, and then he opened his iPad to scribble notes. I’d charged the pen yesterday, so it should be good.

Jake drew inspiration from working titles, so I side-eyed him jot down a list of possible angles. Congolese Unrest, five hundred years of unrest, Unease in the Congo Basin, from kingdoms to colonies, 500 Years of Unrest in the Congo Basin…

“Unrest is a fitting word,” I murmured.

He grew pensive and tapped the pencil against his chin. “This could be huge, Roe.”

The destination itself meant it had to be. You didn’t just fly to the Congo and film over a weekend.

One of our friends had given me the book. He’d wanted to shoot in the Congo but lacked funding and time. He’d urged us to look into the tribe he’d read about in old journals—rumor had it they were still around, caught in the middle of guerrilla wars and corrupt politicians.

We could totally unite Jake’s desire to shoot in the rainforest and my passion for people’s stories. Like he’d said, this could be huge. We were talking a year or eighteen months of preproduction, minimum, then several film crews going over there for a month or two each, covering countless corners of their vast culture, nature, and history.

We’d need further funding too, which meant going to a network with the idea.

“We’ll sit down with Ortiz after the holidays,” I suggested.

“Perfect.” Jake straightened in his seat and stretched a little. “Speaking of, your wish list has very few survival gear items. Do you want to freeze to death in Alaska?”

I grinned slyly and closed the book. “Who says I need anything else? I have everything on the list you sent me.”

He raised his brows. “All of it?”

“Every item.” I’d needed the distraction to stay sane in my family drama, so I’d reserved an hour or two every day to train and learn. I’d read dozens of books, I’d talked to wildlife experts, I’d gone to the gym more than I’d let on, and I had shopped for survival gear online—gear I actually knew how to use too.

He huffed and eyed me a little skeptically. A more pressing matter took precedence, though, and he excused himself to go take a leak.

I took the opportunity to stow away our stuff into our backpacks.

To be fair, part of the challenge was heading to Alaska with less gear than recommended, but it was an impressive list, nonetheless. The working title of the show was One Backpack to Survive: Alaska. Because we hoped this was just the first part of an expanding series. The first destination.

The money was good. There were upsides to major networks, and the era of streaming was here for real. Not just for viewers and bigger studios but independent filmmakers and minor production companies. Netflix was expanding like crazy, and Jake and I had a good reputation. We were a safe bet with a large preexisting following.

It could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

We kinda needed the money too. Seth required more people on board within Condor Chicks since we’d started appearing on international television. We’d reached that stage where we were talking about our own legal teams, production teams, and so on. Which was fucking wild.

Less wild was the notion of moving our headquarters. We were running out of space fast, and our business had grown to the point where it’d stopped being legal for us to run a headquarters in a residential area. It had worked when we’d lived there, of course. And we’d gotten by fine when we’d had fewer people. But now…

If Jake and I got our way, we’d keep the house we had now for podcast stuff. It was our comfort zone. We loved to work there, whether we recorded Off Topic episodes or brainstormed on the patio. It could remain our office, while Seth presided over some traditional studio building like Ortiz had in Culver City.

When Jake returned from the bathroom, it was time to return to the present too. While all our future projects piled up, we couldn’t lose focus on what we were currently working on. And this was one of those Roe-can’t-travel-far-so-let’s-shoot-locally projects. A nine-episode series about major celebrities who had rejected Hollywood and other metropolises to lead quieter lifestyles in Smalltown, America. Part focus on the celebrity, part focus on the small town.

It probably wouldn’t win any awards, but I was looking forward to it anyway. I loved small towns and local culture.

We’d shoot part of the series now and the rest after the holidays, before Jake and I were off to Alaska.

Martina and her crew were getting on the road tomorrow, first to meet a famous painter in some tiny, no-name place in Arkansas, then to spend a couple days with a celebrity chef who lived on a farm outside Nashville. Meanwhile, Jake and I were heading to a town I’d never heard of in northern Washington to say hi to one of Jake’s childhood idols, former rock star and current music producer Lincoln Hayes. I’d obviously heard of Path of Destruction; it’d been one of the biggest rock bands of the ’90s, but it’d never been my type of music.

My brothers were a little jealous. That was all that mattered. Angus, Kyle, and Ben had loved the band.

Zach had promised that Lincoln Hayes was more bark than bite—and that his wife was really nice. She ran a shelter for men, women, and children who’d escaped abuse, which was how Zach had met her. Henry was involved in the charity, and they volunteered there sometimes.

Jake unfolded a tourist brochure about the town that Zach had given us. “Camassia Cove. What kind of name is that?”

I chuckled.

“Is that even a cove?” He pointed to the map inside the brochure. “Looks more like a bay to me.”

I grinned and eyed him. “When was the last time you ate, hon?”

He frowned. “Don’t turn me into a Snickers commercial. I’m me even when I’m hungry.”

I laughed.

“Yeah—just a crankier version.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek.

All permitted under the silent understanding of Jake and Roe Hiding in Plain Sight. Zach and Henry may have found us…close…at the Halloween party a few weeks ago, but people we’d known longer never batted an eyelash.

“We’ll stop for a burger in Seattle,” I promised. We had a rental truck waiting for us, and Zach had given us instructions to take the short route to his hometown, not the scenic one with a ferry involved.

* * *

Funny name or not, the little town two hours north of Seattle seemed like a postcard-worthy place. We had a list of fourteen locations to shoot in, from the town center of a neighborhood called Cedar Valley that the locals referred to as Little Seattle, to Point Douglas, a remote lighthouse up on the cliffs that flanked the northern part of town. Jake would send our drone up in the Downtown marina as well as in the garden of Cedar Inn, where we’d stay. The brochure promised hot springs, hiking trails, fantastic restaurants, mountain views, and the “famous” Silver Beach.

I was so caught up in making sure our permits were in order that I missed Jake pulling up to the curb. I looked up, a little disoriented, and spotted a large Victorian house with a big wraparound porch. The whole town was ablaze in fall colors, and Cedar Inn was situated at the end of the street, so the house had nothing but trees and mountains in the background.

Add a burning sunset to that, and it was just stunning.

“This is where people either get married and live happily ever after or…get murdered in a thunderstorm.”

Jake stared at me before opening the door and getting out. “I think we need to break up.”

I grinned. What?! The house was totally the perfect location for a murder mystery! Or a wedding!

What about a murder mystery wedding?

I’d go to that.

After cramming our paperwork down into my backpack again, I left the truck and got ready to carry in gear. Shit, it was cold in Washington. I’d been too hot to bother with a windbreaker at the airport in Seattle, but now I needed it.

“What theme will our wedding have?”

He shot me a cute smirk and hauled out his case of tripods. “Definitely not Lady in Red.”

Ohhh, good one. For one, he’d played along, which meant he wasn’t repulsed by the idea. For two, he still found Sandra’s wedding theme ridiculous. I barely remembered it. That whole day was a blur.

We grabbed as much as we could carry and locked up, then trekked up the stone path toward the inn. Jake’s gardener eyes catalogued everything and seemed to like what he was seeing.

“Do you wanna get married at some point?” he asked curiously.

The wedding itself meant nothing to me, but… “Yeah. Yeah, I wanna be married to you. What about you?”

He smiled to himself, as if he was entertaining the idea, and climbed up on the porch. “Just say when, and I’ll get the rings.”

Fuck me, we could just wrap up our day here, ’cause it wasn’t gonna get any better.

Holy shit.

Just as Jake opened the door, we heard a guy yell, “Mom! I’m gonna go get our dinner! Call me when Jake and Roe arrive—I wanna subtly ask for their autographs!”

Jake and I exchanged a quick grin and stepped inside, at which point a bell rang above us, and the guy at the reception desk spun toward us with his eyes wide. He couldn’t be more than eighteen or something.

“Shit,” he cursed.

Upstairs, his mother—I presumed—responded. “How do you ask for autographs subtly? I’ll be down in two minutes. Hold on.”

Aw, poor guy. He looked so embarrassed. But he was evidently quick to recover. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “So let’s just ignore that I made a complete fool of myself—and welcome to Cedar Inn. My name is Gray, and I’d be happy to get you checked in and settled.”

“Thank you,” I chuckled. “Don’t worry, we can subtly sign something for you.”

“Suh-weet.” Gray smiled triumphantly. “My buddy Abel and I always listen to your podcast when he’s in town. You’ll probably meet him tomorrow. His dad is Lincoln Hayes. He may have told me that’s why you’re in town. I’ll just stop rambling now. Right.”

Right.

Welcome to Camassia Cove.

* * *

I yawned and stretched out my legs. Fucking frigid. I shuddered at a harsh wind and was mildly annoyed with all the sea gulls screaming overhead. And here we’d been—I checked my watch—for five fucking hours.

Jake sat next to me on the bench, with his dumbass-looking drone goggles, while he maneuvered the drone around the marina. And beyond. It had good range, I couldn’t deny that. But I could’ve stayed in bed.

We’d arrived at the marina right before the sun rose. Jake had filmed the fishing boats coming in, some going out, local restaurant owners stopping by to buy the catch of the day…

The boardwalk was lined with restaurants, and I had my eyes set on Quinn’s Fish Camp for lunch. I’d been so bored the last couple of hours that I’d studied all their menus.

“Five more minutes,” Jake said absently.

I yawned again. “No problem. What’s the layout from up there?”

“Residential area west of the boardwalk, forest east of the marina… So the Downtown district has its own town center a bit north of where we’re sitting right now, and I just wanna see if the drone can cover it from here.”

“Got it.”

Five minutes turned into ten, because we filmmakers couldn’t tell time, but after that, we were totally itching for food. And to escape the cold winds. It would be a working lunch since we were heading to Lincoln Hayes’s house right after. I had notes to run through one last time.

We were the first to enter the seafood restaurant, and it looked exactly how I wanted it to look. With fishnets and sea glass in the ceiling, a boat’s steering wheel behind the bar, and tables made out of old wooden barrels. Fucking perfect. We decided to eat at the bar, and I didn’t need to look at the menu first.

Been there, done that. Twenty times. Even the bartender fit right in, with his flannel shirt and well-worn jeans as he…did whatever he did. Something with the register and a notebook. A server came up behind the bar too, dressed more for his profession with a logo tee and nice pants. He poured us ice water and recommended the seafood linguini.

“That sounds good. I’m just gonna take a quick look at the menu first,” Jake said.

I checked my phone in the meantime, and I found a text from Haley.

Dude. This was posted ten minutes ago on Sandra’s Insta, and now it’s deleted.

I furrowed my brow and clicked on the screenshot.

It was a photo of her and Casper. I recognized the pool area of Sandra’s parents’ backyard. What was wrong with it? Our boy looked happy—oh hell. I read the caption. Or rather, the string of hashtags.

#HappyMom #BestSonEver #CutestBoyInTheUniverse #PoolDay #YoureEverythingToMe #DinnerWithTheGirlsLater

Hurt slashed through me, and anger was quick to follow. How fucking thoughtless could she be? This was public. She may have forgotten we had another son and daughter, but others knew. She was also publicly linked to me, which meant some of our followers had trickled into her account as well.

I wondered why she’d deleted it. Had she realized how stupid some of the hashtags were? Had Kathryn seen it? Had any of her friends commented?

“Okay, I know what I want,” Jake said.

I swallowed and felt a weight settling over me. What the hell was I supposed to do? What more could I Google? How many doctors should I ask? I’d never stumbled across anything helpful for a mother who’d bonded with one child but not their siblings. It was either-or. Hundreds of thousands of articles about emotionally absent parents, maternal bonding, postpartum depression, child attachment disorders, depleted mother syndrome, not to mention countless adults who’d written about growing up in loveless homes.

“Roe?”

I cleared my throat and racked my brain—lunch. I knew what I wanted. Right. “Um, the halibut.”

I felt him watching me, and I was sure I’d triggered some internal alarm, but he ordered for us first. Before he put his hand on mine and gave it a squeeze.

“You okay?”

“I…” I blew out a breath and scratched my forehead. “Honestly, I don’t know.” I wasn’t sure I could explain myself, so I decided to show him the screenshot and Haley’s message instead. “All this time, I’ve been so sure Sandra’s detachment is temporary. And I’m terrified I have to consider it might be permanent.”

Jake frowned as he read from the screen.

For every second that ticked by, the pressure built up within me, and I started seeing future scenarios I had no fucking clue how to deal with. Like, what if when we got divorced, I suddenly had the twins full time and Casper only every other week? Adam and Callie would grow up wondering why their mom didn’t love them. Cas would eventually struggle to choose sides because he loved his brother and sister, at the same time as he loved his mom. He might get angry with her. I definitely would’ve. I could picture a preteen Casper throwing fits to get answers. And Adam’s hurt? Oh, Mommy can’t get enough of my big brother, but I’m not good enough for her.

Jesus Christ. I had to get out of here.

“I’ll be back in a few,” I said and slid off the stool. I grabbed my backpack and headed outside.

I sucked in some air and aimed for the nearest bench on the boardwalk where I sat down.

In the side pocket of my backpack, I dug out a crumpled pack of smokes and a lighter. Once upon a time, I’d been a social smoker at occasional parties and on late nights when I couldn’t sleep. Nowadays, I lit one up in secret when everything at home became too much. It was this or crying in my car.

I took a drag from the smoke and rested my elbows on my knees.

At what point could I unleash my anger on Sandra?

No matter what I had done behind her back, I’d been fucking supportive. I’d stayed when she’d tried to kick me out. I’d stood by her when she’d told me to move on. I’d postponed a decision on divorce because she’d needed me. Not as a husband, clearly, but as someone who could pick up the slack and take care of everything around her.

I’d tried to be her friend, her support, her goddamn cheerleader. And driver. I’d taken her to therapy appointments. I’d participated in some sessions too. I’d read so much about postpartum depression that I almost felt like a doctor myself. I’d never blamed her. I’d listened to Dr. Carlson’s advice. Encourage, don’t push. Take away her stress. Remind her of her children’s unconditional love. Be patient.

I’d been fucking patient, but I was reaching my limit as a father. Because they were my babies too, and if she didn’t get her shit together, they were gonna suffer.

I blew out a harsh breath and took another drag.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and tapped my feet restlessly.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smoke, darlin’.”

I sniffled and hurriedly wiped at my cheeks, and Jake sat down next to me.

He nudged me gently with his elbow. “Talk to me.”

I coughed and cleared my throat. “When am I allowed to get angry? In the back of my head, I have the guilt telling me to shut the fuck up because no matter what I do, I’ve cheated on her, so I’m not allowed to get mad. I’m not allowed to take another wrong step, I’m not allowed to hold her accountable for anything.”

He thought about my word vomit and leaned forward, mirroring my position. He scratched his jaw. “I reckon you gotta do what I did with Nikki. I was a shit boyfriend to her, and I owned it. I admitted to myself and to her that I failed. That’s that.” He glanced at me. “But I’d like to think I’m a good dad. I’m a good friend to the mother of my kids. We have a great relationship today.”

I nodded once and peered down at the ground.

I had to separate the husband from the dad. I’d failed as Sandra’s husband. So be it. I had no argument. We never should’ve gotten married in the first place. On some level, I’d always known that. Sandra might even agree with me. She’d told me our marriage hadn’t been at all what she’d envisioned. We had nothing in common. Although I had actually done my best to be part of her family—with frequent Sunday dinners and get-togethers—she’d been vocal from the start about struggling to connect with everyone I loved, and…let’s face it, I’d pretended. I’d pretended to the point of mental exhaustion.

Our sex life had been a joke. She’d wanted to try for a second baby shortly after Casper was born, and so the fuck-to-conceive joyride had started. I mean, I’d obviously wanted more children too, but she’d been a goddamn machine.

I blew out some smoke and flicked away ashes.

“Why are you angry?” he murmured. “At who? I just wanna flesh it out.”

I got it. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure. It could very well be just the situation itself.

Yeah. That felt…right. I was angry with the situation.

That said, I was gearing up to fight.

“I don’t think I’ve been angry with her so far,” I admitted. “Irritated? Absolutely. Hurt? Fuck yeah. I think I’m getting there, though—with the anger. This dumb Insta stunt…? That’s the first time she’s aired her preferences in public, and that’s my limit. You know how it is—once online, always online. We have millions of followers. I can’t guarantee this won’t be dug up one day for Adam to see. Then what?”

He nodded with a dip of his chin. “Valid.”

“I’m sick of the guilt too,” I added, a bit annoyed. “I’m over it. I’d choose you any fucking day of the week, and I just don’t have the energy to care about how I should’ve gone about it anymore. The last eighteen months have been…” I shook my head and took a final drag from the smoke. “I would’ve lost my fucking mind if it weren’t for you.”

He leaned in and kissed my temple.

After putting out the smoke, I stood up and threw it in the nearest trash can. I felt better having ranted a bit, but I had a lot of thinking to do. Because if Sandra was dead set on avoiding her lack of attachment to the twins, we were gonna have major problems. She would stop existing on my list of priorities altogether, and I would focus solely on protecting the children from pain. Even if that included protecting them from her.

I could only hope things wouldn’t come to that.

I scrubbed a hand over my jaw and didn’t sit down again. Our food would be ready any minute, and we had work to do.

“I’m gonna talk to her as soon as we get back home,” I decided.

Jake glanced up, surprised.

“Fuck the holidays,” I said. “I’ll cancel New York and bring the kids to crash your party on the 24th. If that’s okay?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course it’s okay.” He smiled and rose from the bench too. “I think I have a few extra plates.”

I nodded and exhaled, feeling better with an immediate plan.

We headed back toward the restaurant, and I began counting down the days till I didn’t have to restrain myself from holding his hand. If I knew my man right, he’d need another month or two before he was ready for a flight to Norfolk, so either before or after Alaska. Whatever he preferred.

“You know what?” Jake draped an arm around my shoulders. “No matter the outcome, we’re a family. We have two women behind us who are fiercely protective of your runts too. Don’t forget that. If Nikki catches wind of any type of neglect, she’ll step in as whatever Cas, Adam, and Callie might need.”

“For chrissakes.” I stopped abruptly as a wave of emotions crashed over me, and I had to take a calming breath. Fucking hell. I sniffled and cleared my throat repeatedly.

“That can’t come as a shock, baby,” he reasoned gently. “Our kids are our kids.”

In retrospect, I knew that. It was just… “I guess I needed the reminder. I don’t know what I woulda done without Nikki and Haley either.”

“We’re not gonna find out,” he replied firmly. “Come on. Let’s eat before we visit one of the best guitar players who’s ever lived.”

His low-key excitement brought me out of my funk and centered me. I let out a long breath and followed him inside. Perfectly timed too—the server brought out our food less than a minute later.

While Jake took photos of our food and included a napkin with the fish camp’s logo for a post on social, I placed one of my notebooks between us so I could go through the interview once more.

I smiled to myself as Jake neatly folded the napkin and tucked it into his drone bag.

He still collected napkins.

“Do you think Hayes has his own Seth who pushes him to do stuff for exposure?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” Jake chuckled. “I searched for articles last night and didn’t find a whole lot. He rarely does interviews unless it’s related to his producing.”

Yeah, I’d gotten the impression from Zach that we were about to meet a grumpy recluse. One with a lot of history, and not all of it was sunshine and roses. Like many other rock stars of the eighties and nineties, he’d spent time in rehab. But most of all, ten years in prison for manslaughter. He’d been out a decade or so, during which he’d moved his family to the little town he’d grown up in, started a production company in Seattle, and produced a fuck-ton of award-winning music and film scores.

His wife Adeline had been with him back in the day too, and it was the death of her stepfather that’d put Lincoln behind bars in Michigan. I’d researched the case and the charges, and we’d decided not to ask any intrusive questions on the topic. Adeline’s stepdad had probably had it coming, was all I was gonna say.

Three children, the two eldest having been adopted by the couple. The middle kid had his own Wikipedia page, and he was none other than Abel Novak-Hayes, one of the best younger players the NHL had ever seen.

Last I’d heard, there’d been talks of him going from Pittsburgh to Vancouver. I didn’t know if that’d happened yet, but it would be a waste of his talent if you asked me.

Feeling well-prepared, I tucked away my notes again. The food was fantastic, so I could understand why Jake was putting extra effort into the Insta post he was working on. He even asked the bartender about some stuff, which was a dead giveaway to Jake’s thoughts on his seafood linguini.

“Nah, not too long—it was a bar before I bought the place,” the bartender said. Correction, the owner. “You some sort of reporters?” He eyed us, a bit guarded.

“We’re making a documentary series,” Jake replied. “One of the episodes will cover your town.”

“Ah.”

Something told me this man didn’t listen to podcasts or spend much time on social media.

* * *

Zach was right. Lincoln Hayes’s wife was extremely nice. The family lived on the mountainside north of the Downtown district, in a big, modern house literally built on the cliffs. We were given a tour of the place, and without room for a yard, they had a rooftop terrace with a pool, barbecue area, and a little garden.

During the tour, Lincoln was absent. Adeline said he was wrapping something up in the studio in the basement.

In the kitchen, Adeline poured us coffee and set out a basket of mini muffins on the island. For such a modern house, the kitchen was awfully French countryside, and I felt at home right away. Jake and I liked the homey feel of things.

“I’m sure he’ll be up any minute,” Adeline said apologetically.

We waved it off. We weren’t in a rush. Besides, the mini muffins were ridiculously delicious.

“Do you mind if I start filming around the downstairs?” Jake asked.

“No, no, go ahead—”

“Mom!” a guy yelled from upstairs. Had to be the hockey-playing son, right? “Have you seen my—never mind!”

I grinned at Adeline’s amused eye roll.

“Even when they’re adults, they’re babies when they come home.”

“Sounds like me and my brothers,” I chuckled.

Soon enough, a herd of rhinos stampeded down the stairs—or it was just a gorgeous young guy who graced magazine covers with his abs on display. Man, I felt old—and I was in the best shape of my life.

Abel walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a bed head. Jake nodded politely and passed him, and Abel came to a stop.

“I knew I’d forgotten something,” he said. “You’re the Off Topic guys. My buddy and I listen to your podcast all the time.”

I smiled. “We met Gray yesterday when we checked in at his mother’s inn.”

“Oh right! Duh. Of course.”

“They’re just waiting for Dad to finish up downstairs,” Adeline added.

“Oh.” Abel squinted in thought, then abruptly walked out into the hallway and opened a door to somewhere. I couldn’t see it from here. “Dad! We have company!”

“He can’t hear you from the studio, sweetie!” Adeline called.

But maybe Lincoln wasn’t in the studio anymore, because we heard a muffled response. He was on his way up.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’—Christ.”

Oh, this was gonna be fun.

There was nothing like interviewing someone who didn’t wanna be interviewed.

* * *

In the years Jake and I had worked together, we’d learned that life lessons came in all shapes and forms, and often from places we hadn’t anticipated. It was just a perk of being a filmmaker to constantly pick up a new perspective that changed how we viewed things.

If I was being perfectly honest, I hadn’t thought this trip would change anything for me. It wasn’t one of our “passion projects” we poured our souls into. It was a sell-to-market series about well-established professionals leading happy lives in their tiny towns. Our job was to show viewers around said town and sit down with the celebrity and chat. No muss, no fuss.

Lincoln Hayes’s studio in the basement was where we set up our cameras and lighting for the interview, and getting him to talk wasn’t the easiest. Surrounded by state-of-the-art studio equipment and a luxurious interior, from the tiny spotlights embedded in the leather soundproofing to the massive mixing tables and instruments, the former rock star was a man of few words—until I broached the topic of his production company.

I’d figured using Jake’s passions had once opened him up, so maybe I could do the same with Lincoln. And it worked, though not in the way I’d anticipated.

“You named it Second Verse Studios. Is there a story behind it? Please include the question in your answer, if possible.”

Lincoln sat in his swivel chair, pensive, quiet, looking every bit as one might expect of a musician who’d spent so many years in the industry. Tattoos, a rip in his jeans over his knee, black tee, messy hair, some silver, and laugh lines. He brushed his thumb over his wedding band, then scratched his scruffy jaw.

“The name, Second Verse Studios…is the result of a story I told the PR guy who helped me launch the business,” he answered eventually. “It’s how he summarized my life.” He reached for his coffee mug and took a swig. “I wasted ten years being away from my family, after a coke-filled career of pushin’ out music and tour dates. A life in the fast lane, so to speak.”

I shifted in my seat—a not entirely comfortable leather sofa—and made a quick note in my notebook.

“The label always wanted the next chorus that would get stuck in fans’ heads,” he went on. “The hook had to sell. It had to be memorable.” He set down the mug again and leaned back a bit, running a hand through his hair. It exposed a tattoo on the underside of his bicep. The name of his daughter. Other names I’d seen on his arms included Abel and Jesse, and I knew he’d nicknamed his wife Tiny Dancer. She was there too, blending in with lyrics and heavily shadowed instruments. “What labels never care about is the story,” he said. “They barely care about the message in the chorus either, but even less the background—and that’s where life takes place.”

I tilted my head, curious about what he meant.

Jake silently left his spot in the corner to adjust the second camera on the other side of the room.

“I was sick of livin’ in a chorus,” Lincoln said. “That was the parties, the awards, the lines of coke, the shows—all that. It sold. It was what people wanted to see. A rock star going to their kid’s dance recital won’t sell any papers.” He had a point. America wanted to rage over fuckups. “I was done even before I ended up in prison,” he admitted. “I’d lost respect for pretty much everyone. We could do whatever the fuck we wanted, and we got away with it because of our celebrity status. It was a feeding frenzy.”

I jotted down those last words, wanting them highlighted later on.

“After I got out, I wanted the life no paparazzi wanted to document,” he said. “I wanted to go to my son’s hockey games, my daughter’s recitals, have dinner in front of the TV with my wife, see my eldest graduate from college, go fishing with my old man.”

He wanted his second chance at life to be about the verses.

* * *

I didn’t know what I would call the chorus moments of my life. Not in the negative light Lincoln had cast his own moments in, anyway. I could totally see why he did, of course. He’d gotten caught in a cycle that’d almost torn him apart, and the media had been there to showcase every second of it. He had made millions of dollars living up to the name of their band, Path of Destruction.

My own chorus moments were more like the high points of my life. Meeting Jake, becoming a father, starting Condor Chicks…

But something Lincoln had said about the verses, about where life took place, stayed with me. My priorities had shifted after fulfilling several goals and dreams. I had my children, work was amazing, I was in love with the most wonderful man in the world. Now I just wanted to live. I wanted to start my own second verse, where I simply enjoyed what Jake and I had accomplished, the family we’d built with Nikki and Haley and…yeah. I wanted the recitals and the grocery shopping. I wanted family vacations and barbecues.

We were in the home stretch. Soon, we’d have all that.

We’d hurt enough, hadn’t we?

When we landed in LA, I sent Sandra a text.

Can you come home without the kids in about an hour? I’ll pick them up at your folks’ later. We need to talk.

By the time Jake and I had dropped off our equipment in Marina del Rey, Sandra had agreed without further questions.

Maybe she’d been waiting for the divorce talk. Maybe she thought I’d found out about her Insta stunt. Maybe she just didn’t care.

Jake drove me to Bel Air, and it was quiet in the truck. I was steeling myself and thinking about second verses.

I wanted to move out right away, though I wasn’t sure that was possible. I had to be there for the children, and I doubted she’d let me take them.

“I was thinkin’,” Jake said, clearing his throat. “We could, uh—I mean, before Thanksgivin’ or Christmas—tell the others we’re together? It would get Nikki off my back, and I wouldn’t mind celebrating Christmas without having to keep my hands to myself.”

I exhaled as a sliver of warmth made its way into me, knocking down the wall I tried to erect around me. “There’s nothing I want more.” I put a hand on his thigh. “Nikki’s on your case, huh?”

He chuckled a little. “She’s been on my case since we bought the Condor Chicks house.”

Damn.

“It’s highly possible she suspects somethin’,” he added. “I kinda did a 180 in New York once you succumbed to my charms.”

“Succumbed to your—” I cracked up, no matter how fucking true it was. Right on the money. It just wasn’t Jake’s style to say something like that. It was, however, his style to try to make me smile if he sensed I wasn’t feeling all right. “I love you—and your charms.”

He grinned faintly and kissed my hand. “Good.”

If only that warm feeling could last a bit longer. Two blocks away from the condo, the breaths didn’t come as easy anymore, but…maybe that was for the best. Shutting down and toughening up might get me through the rest of the day faster.

Jake slowed down as we reached my street. “You know where to find me if you need an escape later. Sam and Bear aren’t coming over till tomorrow, so I’ll probably be at the office going through raw footage all night.”

I nodded and took another breath, and Jake pulled up to the curb. It might very well come to that, though only if I could bring the little ones with me.

Bottom line, I couldn’t trust Sandra when it came to them.

“I’ll text you, no matter what happens.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck. You’ve got this.”

I hoped so.

I climbed out of the truck and threw my duffel over one shoulder and my backpack over the other. Then I made my way upstairs, and as soon as I entered the condo, I was relieved to hear she was already here. I dropped my luggage on the floor, kicked off my shoes, and found her in the kitchen.

She sat at the table, fidgeting with the label on her water bottle. When she faced me, she straightened in her seat. “If this is about the photo I posted on Insta, I deleted it. Mom’s already given me shit for it, so I don’t need it from you too.”

Another point for Kathryn.

“How do you know I found out about the post?” I wondered.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Haley told you. She posted a bitchy comment, like, five minutes after it went live.”

A point for Haley too. Bitchy or not, I was certain whatever she’d said had been valid.

I scratched my forehead and trailed over to sit down across from her. “That post is part of a much bigger problem, and we’ll come to that later.”

She quirked a brow.

There was no reason to beat around the bush.

“It’s about us,” I said. “I wanna get a divorce.”

“Oh,” she mouthed. Her shock lasted all of a second. In no way had she not seen this coming—perhaps just not this very moment. “I’m part surprised it took you so long and part surprised you’re doing this now when you’re so damn concerned about the twins.”

“Oh, so you remember they exist. That’s good.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

I shook my head and eyed her. Funny how I’d been tense and unsettled on the way over here, and now I felt absolutely nothing.

At the same time, I hated how we’d gotten to this point. She hadn’t chosen her emotional detachment to two of our children, but it was very much real and posed a threat to the future.

She cooled down a bit and looked out the window. “I don’t have anything to say. We were clearly not meant to be.”

Clearly.

“Unfortunately, we do have a lot to talk about,” I replied.

“Why?” She turned dismissive and shrugged. “It’s not like I have to fight you over this place—you never liked it here—and we have a prenup.”

“We have three kids, Sandra. We gotta discuss custody.”

That one caused a reaction. She swallowed hard. Her gaze flickered, and she suddenly radiated anxiousness.

I made sure my expression gave nothing away, and I didn’t say anything at first. I wanted to hear her demands. I wanted to find out if she would include all three or just Casper in what she wanted. She knew she couldn’t do the latter, right? She knew how that would look. I also knew she was in no state to go for more than fifty percent custody. Countless moms out there had their kids most of the time, with the dad present every other weekend. That wouldn’t be us. Ever.

Kathryn came to mind, and I had an idea. While she would always love and support her daughter, she’d proven over and over that she wanted what was best for all of us, most of all the kids.

“If you want, you could talk to your mom,” I said. “See what she has to say. She’s more involved in your recovery at this point.”

A pinch of relief seeped into her eyes, and she nodded slightly. “I’ll do that.” Then she dropped her gaze to her hand. More accurately, her rings. She brushed her fingers over the diamond of her engagement ring. “Are we supposed to fight or start making lists of belongings we’re dividing?”

I’d rather not fight. I didn’t care about the second, ’cause the few items I was bringing with me to wherever I ended up, she had no interest in.

“The last two years have felt like one big fight,” I admitted. “I’d prefer we skip it.”

She chuckled softly and winced. “My God, we’ve been unhappy.” She slowly removed her wedding band and placed it on the table. I watched every move. It was so meaningful in a way, the closing of this…whatever it had been. And it meant I could finally take mine off for the last time too. “I don’t want to drag this out or make a bunch of announcements,” she admitted. The engagement ring ended up on top of the wedding band before she withdrew her hands and leaned back in her seat.

“I’m all for making it as painless as possible.” I slipped off my ring too and placed it in front of me.

Before we’d gotten married, we’d signed a prenup, primarily for her to protect her inheritance. It’d been her dad’s firm request we have one. Today, I was relieved. Not that my wealth could compare to the fortune she would get one day, at least not yet, but it brought me peace to know our finances would be settled faster.

I would need to find a lawyer…

I didn’t know shit about the laws concerning child support and what harm she could cause. To be fair, it would be unlike her. She didn’t wanna drag this out any more than I did; she’d said it herself. So she’d switch from my credit cards and go back to her dad’s. Although, I knew she’d never really stopped using Daddy’s money. He didn’t care about the price tags on her purses and shoes. I did.

Twenty grand for a handbag? I don’t fucking think so.

“So this is it,” Sandra said.

I nodded. “This is it.”

* * *

Two days before Thanksgiving, I found myself, not for the first time, crying in my car.

I could stop whenever I wanted to.

I sniffled and wiped fruitlessly at my cheeks, sick—so fucking sick—of doing this. I’d cried more in the last two years than I had all the other goddamn years I’d been alive.

At least it wasn’t bad news weighing me down this time. My body was evidently just letting shit go. I felt like I’d finally caught a break, even though I had my work cut out for me.

I’d made it to the driveway outside our office before I’d cracked. It was late; nobody was working in the house, and our neighbors were hopefully busy eating dinner.

“Jesus Christ, make it stop.” I sobbed into my hands, at a fucking loss. Why now? Why at all? Had I not processed enough? Had I not cried enough?

I clung to the relief soaring within me, and I prayed that would calm me the fuck down. All things considered, tonight had been a success. Yeah, I was terrified Sandra would never connect with the twins, but Kathryn had come through with what I felt was the best solution for now. And Sandra had agreed. She was on board. With a bit of luck and a lot of hard work, we’d avoid lawyers arguing and drawn-out hostility.

It was a temporary, short-term fix. I would have the kids most of the time, while Sandra—as she’d promised while rolling her damn eyes—continued to go to therapy. She would make more of an effort to face her problems. We’d agreed we could see the kids whenever we needed to. Every other week would be mine as a standard, and her week… That would be up to her. She could take a night or two if she had the energy, just spend a few hours with them, visit me every single day if they remained with me, or… We’d simply be flexible during her week, and Kathryn had offered to help her with the twins, which meant the whole fucking world to me.

Best mother-in-law ever. She really loved my kids. She wanted her Gramma time with them. Including right now. She’d brought them home with her so Sandra and I could sort some things out with the condo. I’d packed a few bags, a handful of boxes, my clothes, a cat… The back seat and the trunk were filled.

Ninja stared at me through the netting of his carrier in the passenger seat.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I croaked.

We were gonna go through the kids’ stuff tomorrow.

I reached for a packet of tissues in the glovebox and blew my nose.

I looked like a fucking train wreck. Jake was gonna open the door and shut it in my face.

No, he wouldn’t. He was more likely to take me to the hospital and say I’d been run over by a monster truck.

“Get it together, get it together,” I whispered hoarsely. I couldn’t show up outside Jake’s house until I’d stopped weeping.

He was waiting for me.

He’d cleared out his home gym.

I had a place to go.

Deep breaths. Focus on Jake.

“The fuck? Why on earth would you crash at the office? Y’all are stayin’ with me, end of fuckin’ story. I already talked to Nikki and everythin’. We have plenty of room. You stay until…you know. Whatever. I’ll move my gym equipment to the garage.”

He’d left “until you find a place” unsaid.

Just like I had avoided “I guess I should contact a Realtor” by saying “Ugh, I’ll just crash at the office for a while.” I literally would’ve done it too. We had a playroom there for the kids, after all. They’d be set, sort of. But I was pretty sure Jake and I wanted the same thing. We missed living together like we used to back in the day. Just him, me, and Colin.

I sniffled and let out a long breath.

Could my sob-fest please be over now?

I was wasting my night with Jake. He had picked up food-truck dishes, and we were gonna couch-potato ourselves through the evening on our own. Nikki had Colin and Sam over Thanksgiving, and they were with her family in Spokane.

That was another thing Sandra and I had to divide, our holidays. I had quickly and selfishly requested this Christmas because it meant Jake and I would share the same holidays, regardless of how flexible he and Nikki were. This year, they were doing it up big at Jake’s house on Christmas Eve, with everyone invited for dinner and games. Jake had the morning of Christmas Day with the children, before they went over to Nikki and Russell’s for brunch and more gifts.

I wanted to be a part of that.

Sandra wouldn’t be so easy. She’d given me Christmas in exchange for Thanksgiving and Casper’s next birthday. The last one sucked, but I had a year to get used to the idea—and to get creative. It was all part of being divorced, right? Celebrating holidays on different dates and the kids sometimes getting two of something.

I closed my eyes and scrubbed my hands over my face.

Okay, nearly there. No more tears streaming down.

I supposed, in the end, the holidays didn’t matter as much as all the days in between.

We’d work things out. We had to.

The worst was over for me. Now I had to get my shit in gear and be there for Jake. He was getting increasingly anxious about his upcoming trip to Norfolk. He hadn’t bought the tickets yet, but he’d pushed himself to go before we were off to Alaska at the end of January.

When my phone vibrated in my pocket, I knew it was time to go.

A text from Jake.

You almost here? Let me know when to reheat the food.

I replied.

Nuke it, baby. I’m there in two minutes.

I wiped my nose for the last time and nodded to myself. Time to start my second verse. I was gonna be honest with Jake too. I’d tell him I wanted to live with him permanently. We were fucking cute, tiptoeing around the subject, when we’d already discussed marriage.

His house was perfect for us. I loved the hacienda-style architecture, and he had plenty of space. A wonderful backyard he maintained like a pro. Four bedrooms, a big living room slash dining area. Would we ever need more than three bedrooms for five kids? Honestly. I’d grown up sharing, and that hadn’t killed me.

It wasn’t difficult seeing Sam and Callie sharing a room. Adam and Cas—or maybe Cas and Colin until Colin was older and needed more privacy. Our eldest were thick as thieves.

After grabbing Ninja’s carrier and my backpack with essentials, I locked up the car and left the driveway. No biggie, I was just gonna invite myself to move in to my man’s house. It happened every day.

“Oh shit.” I hurried back to the car, having forgotten the damn litter box. Suddenly, it was going to be a heavy little walk. Cat, essentials, litter box, the fucking litter… Okay, take two.

Ninja meowed.

“Stop judging me,” I said.

I walked briskly up the sidewalk until I reached Jake’s house. The front yard was, as always, in pristine condition. Jake, my gardener. Flower beds, fruit trees, manicured lawn, no weeds in sight, and an old-fashioned lamppost that cast a glow on the area. French café chairs and table—for Grandma Jo-Jo, who loved to sit there.

She’d done the same at the office when that’d been our home. She liked seeing the cars drive by through the hedge and keep an eye on the neighbors.

It was gonna be good seeing her again.

I knocked on the door twice before I let myself in.

“Honey, I’m home!” I called. “Are all the doors and windows closed? Or bug screens, at least? I have a Ninja who wants out.”

“Go ahead!” Jake hollered from the kitchen.

I heard the microwave beep.

I unloaded all the kitty shit in the hallway and let Ninja out.

I’m home.

I was fucking home. This was the home I shared with my photographer, who had collected our memories on the walls. So many photos of us and our condor family. Always candids. Laughter frozen in time, kids running around, hugs, tickle fights, some pictures black-and-white, some in full color. Nikki and the kids running through the sprinklers in the backyard, Haley and the kids opening pizza boxes, Jake and me… Photos from New York. My brothers, my nieces, my nephews, my aunt and uncle. They were Jake’s family too.

I rounded the corner and peered into the kitchen just as Jake quickly set a food container on the counter. It was too hot, judging by his “ouch, fuck” and withdrawing his hands.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

He glanced over at me and smiled—only to freeze up. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Oh…

Right.

“I may have gotten a little emotional in the car,” I admitted. “It’s fine.”

He frowned. “But you said on the phone everything went better than expected. Kathryn was a lifesaver and so on.”

“All true. All true. I guess I’m just…a crybaby letting go of the past. I don’t know.”

Something softened in his gaze. “But you’re my crybaby.”

I grinned. Damn fucking right.

He set another container in the microwave, then sucked some red sauce off his thumb. “Let’s circle back to you saying ‘Honey, I’m home.’” He came toward me and gestured for me to come with him down the hall.

More photos. Boston, Philly, Norway, Afghanistan, Finland, Poland… Two commemorative Emmy statues on a shelf. We kept the real ones in our podcast studio. And some minor awards and plaques.

We walked past Colin’s room—whoa, wait. Holy shit, was he for real? Jake had added Casper’s name below Colin’s. The same cartoon worms shaped like letters.

“Jake…?”

He stopped and looked back. “Well, fuck. You weren’t supposed to see that before I showed you the twins’ room.”

The twins’ room.

I pinched my lips together and understood that my discussion about how I wanted to move in was going to be very easy.

He was moving us in already.

Jake rubbed the back of his neck and nudged open the next door. That one used to be the gym. “I moved Sam in here. I figured since there’s a shared bathroom between these rooms… Anyway—” He cleared his throat before he opened the door across from…I guessed Sam’s new room. “Adam and Callie get her old one. It’s closer to our bedroom but smaller. So, I don’t know, one day, Adam can have it to himself if Callie moves in with Sam or however we’ll change things around.”

Ourbedroom.

My God, I was glad I was all cried out.

I walked over to him and slipped an arm around his middle as I peered into the twins’ room. And I couldn’t believe him. He’d gone out and bought furniture already. Their names were on the door. Rocking chair in the corner, two convertible cribs, a shared nightstand, couple of dressers…

Jake tentatively put his arm around my shoulders, and I looked at him.

“I was legit two minutes away from pleading my case on why we should live together permanently,” I admitted.

His relief was instant. “Great minds think alike?”

We’d been doing that for years.

“I love you.” I leaned in and kissed him, and I pressed myself flush to his body and got my arms around his neck. “It just doesn’t make any sense for us to live apart.”

“No, it fuckin’ doesn’t.” He hummed against my lips and hugged me tightly. “By the way, we have plans tonight.”

Uh…

“I hope it involves us in our bed.”

“That comes after. First, we eat, then we assemble Colin and Casper’s new bunk bed, and then we head to our bedroom.”

Fucking hell. I smiled like an idiot. “Slip me some tongue, Denver.”

He chuckled and nipped at my lip. “That comes later too.” He pecked me softly instead. Cocktease. “You’ll get all the tongue, right up your tight little ass.”

“Fuck.” I swallowed dryly and felt a wave of heat wash over me. “You know, we really should shower before we sit down for dinner.”

His devilish grin was so fucking hot.

* * *

He nipped at my earlobe. “Spread your legs some more.”

Whatever you want.

I smashed my lips together in a thin line and obeyed as the hot water pelted down on us. God, right there. I swore his fingers were fucking magical. All he had to do was stand behind me just like he was doing right now, kiss my neck, touch me all over with his free hand, and finger-fuck me with those deep, slow, demanding motions.

“Look how hard you get, baby.” He touched me too gently, his fingers just ghosting along my cock. “Is that all for me?”

“Fuck—yeah.” I gasped and screwed my eyes shut, my forehead landing against the tiles. “Anything you want.”

Over and over in those maddeningly slow movements, he shifted two long fingers in and out of me. Not at a set pace. He acted like he was exploring me for the first time, like he was curious about every fucking inch of my asshole. Gently stroking, teasingly rubbing, sadistically digging. He knew what he was doing, too. He knew where to massage me to make me lose my mind, how to swipe his fingertips over that sensitive spot…before he moved on to stroke another part of my insides.

I loved how his knuckles dug into me. Sometimes, I sensed his frustration at not being able to reach deeper. That was usually when he replaced his fingers with his cock. But he seemed awfully patient tonight.

It wasn’t long before his knees hit the floor and he was spreading my ass cheeks.

I moaned at the feel of his exploring digits. He was staring at me, right there. I knew he was. He was watching himself brush his fingertips over my opening, sometimes just that soft center of the pad of his middle finger, featherlight touch, sliding over and around the edges.

Then came the openmouthed kiss, and he immediately, seductively, eased inside with the tip of his tongue.

“Jesus fuck,” I groaned, accidentally pushing back.

The way he worked me… The way he used his tongue… From the softest, most erotic little licks to the firmest, piercing thrusts.

“Mmm, do that again.” He slipped a hand between my thighs and fisted my cock. “Ride my tongue and fuck my hand. You’re gonna show me how desperate you are.”

No fucking problem.

We both had an obsession. I wasn’t allowed to finger myself, handle any douching, cleaning, whatever—he had to do it. That was one of his rules. His obsession. He’d claimed me, he’d said, so now my ass was his. My obsession was to let him do whatever the fuck he wanted with said ass. Fingers, tongue, toys, his perfect cock.

“You feelin’ good, baby?”

“So good,” I whimpered. “It’s the best rule.”

“What, that I eat it before I fuck it? Well…” He licked a circle around my opening and squeezed my cock a little harder. “I wanna enjoy my boy thoroughly.”

I moaned some incoherent crap, getting lost in the moment. Back and forth, back and forth. I reached behind me and slipped my fingers into his wet hair, and he groaned in approval. I fucked myself on his face, and he stroked my cock—rather, I pushed my cock in and out of his tight grip. God, so good, just like that. I rubbed against him harder, wanting that sweet sting from his scruff.

I didn’t know how long we were at it, and it didn’t matter. He decided when he was ready to give it to me, and once he was there, he stood up without warning. No grip on my cock. Nothing at all. I glanced back at him just as he spat in his hand and slicked up his cock, which caused me to act like a damn whore. I braced myself against the wall and rubbed up against him.

Take it.

It was the hottest fucking thing when he got all no-nonsense and impatient. He deemed he didn’t even have the time to get out of the shower and grab the oil from the cabinet. He just had to fuck me right now. He gripped my hip with one hand and guided his cock between my ass cheeks, and then he was forcing himself inside.

“There we go,” he grunted. “You went and got me all desperate too.”

I clung to him. I arched my back, hooked an arm around his neck from behind, and pushed against his thick cock. Fuck, that hurt just right. And he gave as much as he took. His hands roamed my front in comforting, provocative strokes as we made out.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured. “All delicious and tight.”

“Your perfect boy,” I moaned.

“Yeah—fuck, my perfect boy.” He kissed me harder, hungrier, and picked up the pace. “This is fucking it, Roe. You’re all mine now. This is your home. You belong with me.”

“Always.”

It hit me that tonight was cathartic for him as well. We’d both waited for so long.

I’d once been slow as hell to move out of the house we’d shared four doors down from here. I’d needed weeks, months. So it made perfect sense that moving back in together was a split-second decision and finalized in minutes. I’d come back, and this time, I wasn’t leaving.

I took over stroking my cock so he could fuck me like he was on a mission, and he didn’t waste a second. With a tight grip on my hips, he fucked me hard and deep, and the friction was so goddamn addictive. Less lube—or no lube at all, at least in the shower—was evidently the way to go.

He pulled me back from the wall and flattened his hand along my spine, a silent demand for me to bend over. My noises got out of control. I moaned loudly and met his thrusts, wanting that slapping sound to echo around us.

“Can’t get enough of this ass.” He squeezed one of my cheeks roughly and smacked it.

“Hnnghh.”

I was such a bottom whore for him. Fucking zero desire to top anymore. He’d admitted to wanting to try bottoming sometime, because he “felt he should,” but I loved that he was a top to his core. Whatever he wanted to explore in the future, I was down. Absolutely. Sign me up. But we’d found our sexual identities in each other, no doubt.

When he smacked my ass again, the burn he ignited shoved me so close to the edge.

I started panting.

His groans mingled with mine.

He bent at the knees just a bit, and that angle pushed him even deeper. The onslaught of excitement almost shocked my system, and I lost the battle before it’d even started.

Oh fuck, oh God, oh hell. “Now,” I moaned, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Now, baby, now. Oh my God.” I squeezed my eyes shut, and the pleasure just exploded around us. He drilled his cock in and out of me, his pelvis slapping against my ass, and I stroked myself as rope after rope of come shot from my cock.

Holy fuckin’…

He rocked into me and let out a long groan.

And we were supposed to assemble a damn bed now?

Fat chance.

* * *

Saturday after Thanksgiving, Jake and I were ready. Nikki was dropping off the kids in a few minutes, and I was picking up my own in a couple hours. Kathryn and Sandra had to be exhausted. They’d actually taken the kids out shopping all of yesterday. On Black Friday. I wouldn’t do that if someone paid me.

Jake and I had spent the holiday eating, working out, and adding finishing touches to the children’s rooms. Colin and Casper had a bunk bed. Their own desks too. I’d brought stuff over from Sandra’s place, and then I’d bought the rest. Clothes were shopped for online. We’d done a Costco run for diapers and wipes. We’d really only been apart when I’d had to grab more shit from the condo.

Sandra had told me to grow up and get my own place. Having roommates when you were over thirty was apparently not okay. I’d left it alone. She’d get it eventually.

“Baby, where did you put the macadamia cookies?” I hollered, opening the cupboards. I was hungry. The plan was to show the kids their new living arrangements, and then we were gonna throw burgers on the grill.

“The cabinet over the fridge!” he called back. “I had to move the snacks. Bear’s getting tall.”

I chuckled. Boy, was he. He had a major sweet tooth too, so I could see the problem with easy-to-reach snacks.

I was itching to see his reaction to us moving in. We knew he’d be thrilled; otherwise, we wouldn’t have gone full speed ahead to make all those changes in his room.

We had to be a bit gentler with Casper. My boy was a little quirky when it came to drastic changes. He could handle them just fine, but if we built them up by talking about them too much, he got confused and frustrated. The best approach was to take things in steps and not make a big deal out of them. Which was why Sandra had broken the news to him about Mommy and Daddy not living together anymore. It was a good thing, she’d said. Mommy and Daddy were still friends, but Casper would have two homes now.

At the age of five, he didn’t exactly grasp the concept of marriage, so I’d been reassured by Kathryn when she’d relayed how he’d reacted. Like we’d hoped. It wasn’t a big deal. It was a little confusing, absolutely, but okay, so he would have one home with Mommy and one with Daddy.

I crammed a cookie into my mouth and reckoned there’d been at least one positive outcome from the past couple of years. I mean, Sandra and I hadn’t been affectionate in that way. Casper couldn’t remember a time he’d seen Mommy and Daddy hug or be close to each other.

I wasn’t worried, for once. Not about our move to Marina del Rey. My son would see a new room, which he’d share with one of his favorite people in the whole world. And that was the thing, wasn’t it? There wasn’t a lot to break up in Bel Air. Because he’d always had another family right here. This house, as well as our office, had been a big part of his childhood already. This was where we barbecued, threw the kids into the pool, where they visited Daddy and Uncle Jake at work, and where they had sleepovers. This was where Colin and Sam lived. This was where we stashed our leftovers after food-truck Thursday.

We were the fucking condor family.

I perked up when I spotted Nikki out the kitchen window. She was just coming through the gate, and Colin and Sam had to squeeze through at the same time.

Showtime.

“Nikki’s here with the ankle biters!” I yelled, heading for the hallway.

“Okay! Be there in a sec. I’m just getting the last sheets outta the dryer.”

Jake was good at laundry. I was not. I was on dishwasher duty instead.

We had chores in our home.

I opened the front door at the same time as Colin yanked at it, and he looked up at me in surprise.

“Oh, hi!”

“Hey, kiddo.” I smiled and flicked the brim of his ball cap. He usually had it on backward like his old man. “How was Washington?”

“Cold!”

“Hi, Uncle Roe!” Sam darted for me, lookin’ too fucking cute in two bouncing pigtails. “Catch me!”

“Oh, I’ll catch you.” I grinned and swooped her up, and I positioned her on my hip. “How’s my princess?”

“I’m good! Nana and I made lotsa candy.” She widened her eyes and held out her arms to show just how much.

“You did? I hope you saved some for me and Daddy.”

She giggled behind her hand and shook her head. “We ate all of it. Right, Mommy?”

“Well, yeah. Why would we give away awesome candy?” Nikki replied.

“Rude.” I smirked and dipped down to kiss Nikki’s cheek. “Welcome home. I’m guessing you have a hot date tonight.”

“I sure do.” She beamed. “Last holiday we spend apart. Russell’s coming home in an hour, so I can’t stay long. But I heard you have news?”

We did, didn’t we?

For the record, Nikki would have news soon too. Jake told me last night Russell was gonna propose over Christmas. It was kinda sweet, if you asked me. Russell had spoken to Jake first. Not as some chauvinistic way of asking for permission, obviously, but just to touch base and have a beer in the yard. With children involved, it was always good to square things first, get everyone on board and prepared. Kinda like Jake had spoken to Nikki first about my moving in here, though she probably didn’t buy our original spiel of “staying here for a while.”

The woman knew. I could tell by the little smile that played on her lips.

Jake rounded the corner just in time for Colin to have thrown off his backpack and shoes, and they lit up at the sight of each other.

“How you doin’, buddy? It’s good to have you home.” Jake squeezed the boy in a hug.

“Hi, Daddy!” Sam reached for him too, so I walked over to them, and Jake was happy to get both his kids in his arms.

“Hi, baby. What’s this I hear about y’all eatin’ all the candy, huh?”

She squealed and squirmed as he tickled her.

It was a beautiful sight.

Nikki smiled and took a picture of them. “Okay, wrap it up, Denvers. I wanna see your oh-so-temporary living arrangements before I go home and beautify myself to pieces.”

Oh-so-temporary.

Jake smirked. “You didn’t buy that, did you?”

“Gimme a break,” she laughed. “But can you confirm crap for me? You’re together now? No more panicked revelations before bullshit weddings, no more coming up with silly tequila games to cop a feel of your supposedly straight friend—”

“Hey!” What the fuck?

“Yeah, seriously.” Jake was with me, despite the amusement in his eyes.

Okay, I couldn’t hide that either, but my Tequila Licking scheme had been fucking brilliant.

“Mom, you cursed,” Colin noted. “That’s usually Dad’s thing.”

I snorted.

Jake barked out a laugh. “Boy, if only you knew. Mom has the worst potty mouth.”

“He’s lying, baby,” Nikki assured. Lying through her teeth. “Never listen to Daddy.”

Colin and Jake laughed and shared a look that said Mommy was being silly.

“I gotta peeeee!” Sam yelled.

Ah, it was good to have the kids here. Only mine missing now.

Nikki offered to take her, which gave us the perfect opportunity to show Colin his room.

He stopped abruptly at the sight of the names on his door.

“It says Casper here.”

“It does.” Jake smiled and pushed open the door. “What do you think about this?”

Colin walked in first, and the surprise was clear on his face. The bunk bed and the two desks made him spin around. “Is Uncle Roe gonna live here with Casper and the twins? Am I sharing with Casper?”

“If you’re okay with that,” I offered. I meant it. Regardless of how certain we were, if any of the kids for some reason wasn’t happy, we would make adjustments.

Colin pinched his lips together and tossed his ball cap on the bottom bunk. He took in his surroundings, his gaze lingering on the toy boxes by the window. Casper’s Lego collection was almost as impressive as Colin’s these days.

Jake approached and squatted down next to him. “What’re you thinkin’, sweetheart?”

Fuck. Now I was getting all nervous.

Colin flicked me a hesitant look before he leaned closer to Jake and whispered in his ear.

Thankfully, kids didn’t know how to whisper.

“It’s like before, when I was little—before Uncle Roe was stupid and moved out.”

Sweet motherfucking relief. I gusted out a breath and ran a hand through my hair.

Jake laughed softly. “You know, just this once, I’m gonna let you call someone stupid. He and the kids belong here with us, don’t they?”

Colin grinned, uncharacteristically shy, and stayed close to his dad. “Yeah.”

We were gonna be okay. Fuck that—we were gonna be amazing.

* * *

That Christmas, I saw my whole future ahead of me.

There was simply not a damn thing I would change about my found family in Los Angeles. Nikki and Russell showed up around four, when Jake was picking up Grandma Jo-Jo at the airport. Haley and Seth arrived—together, I noticed—shortly after. Haley was impressed by the Christmas tree, and I didn’t feel the need to tell her Nikki had decorated it for us.

She bossed Russell and me around in the kitchen too, and it was for the best. We’d ordered catering because we didn’t want anyone to die of food poisoning, so Nikki told us what to do in terms of reheating and setting the table.

“Grandma’s here!” Haley called out.

“Nanny!” Sam shouted. “Colin, Cas, Nanny is here now!”

The house erupted in greetings that drowned out the Christmas music playing in the background.

Okay, I could do this. Hug Grandma Jo-Jo, keep an eye on Adam, who was dancing dangerously close to the presents under the tree, add a stick of butter to the mashed potatoes, help Russell with the wineglasses, place the turkey on the warming tray, apply more glaze to the ribs, slice the bread—and where the fuck was my daughter?

Oh, thank fuck. She’d latched on to Nikki’s leg.

“I’m-wa up-ah!”

“Well, hi there, sweet girl. You want up?” Nikki grinned and hauled my girl up to sit on her hip.

I passed her on my way to grab more glasses, and I smooched both their cheeks. I couldn’t help it. I was just so fucking grateful for the support we had. Nikki and Haley weren’t messing around. Whatever happened between Sandra and our youngest in the future, Adam and Callie—and Casper, of course—would always have Aunt Nikki and Aunt Haley on their side.

Dinner was a loud affair, just like it was supposed to be. Jake gave Seth some good-natured shit for dating his sister, though I wasn’t sure anyone bought the act. The kids were…loud. Grandma Jo-Jo pointed out to Seth that Haley had child-bearing hips, to which we all cracked up.

“Let’s slow down, Grandma,” Haley laughed. “We’ve been together less than six months.”

“Pshhh.” Grandma Jo-Jo waved that off. “Just don’t take as long as your brother to settle down good and proper.”

“Thanks, Grandma.” Jake smirked lazily and rested his arm along the back of my chair.

Man, if only Grandma Jo-Jo’s son were as open-minded as she was. Her comment to Jake when he’d told her about us was, “Well, good. I’ve been waiting.”

Hadn’t we all?

As much as I loved the chaos of a rambunctious family, it felt good when Adam, Callie, and Sam fell asleep around eight that night. Colin and Cas could entertain themselves a lot better, and now Daddy Roe and Daddy Jake could relax on the couch and drink Irish coffee. Nikki and Russell sat next to us, halfway into a food coma.

The coffee table was filled with Christmas treats the ladies had brought over, and even though I was so fucking full, I couldn’t resist the dark chocolate cranberry clusters. Haley had made them.

She plopped down on Seth’s lap in one of the cushy chairs, and I felt his pain. We all heard his groan.

“Honey, I’m so full.”

“I know, me too.” She was a hell-raiser. She leaned back against him and got real comfortable.

“Good luck with that one,” Jake said. “No take-backs.”

I rumbled a tired laugh.

“Daddy!” Cas came running from the hallway in his snowman pajamas. “Colin’s falling asleep to the movie!”

So should you.

Karma was a bitch or something. All my life, I’d heard how difficult I was to get to fall asleep as a kid, so I guessed it made perfect sense my boy was just the same. He would deny he was tired until he was dead to the world.

“What’s wrong with that?” I shifted a bowl of popcorn away from the edge of the table as he squeezed past Nikki’s and Russell’s legs. Then he crawled up on my lap.

“We were gonna play after the movie,” he complained.

“There’s always tomorrow.” I hugged him to me. “Hey—if you fall asleep now, it’ll be Christmas faster.”

“I wonder if there’s a parent who’s never uttered those words,” Nikki chuckled.

Casper mumbled something to himself and rested his cheek against my chest. Cuddly Cas was the best. And he hadn’t lost his interest in fiddling with Jake’s watch. My boy yawned and reached for Jake, who leaned closer to me and gave Cas his wrist.

“I’m not sleepy,” Cas muttered.

Jake rested his chin on my shoulder and smiled softly. “’Course you’re not.”

I kissed the side of his head.

Had I ever been this happy before?