Kye
Christmas passed in a blur of happiness and one very excited, squealing toddler. Mila informed us in the middle of Christmas dinner just how many dollars she was owed from us from the revelation of our secret, but we soon realized that “best pezents!” trumped her dollars. For Christmas day, that is.
For what it’s worth, we owe her seven tens and four singles.
We took it without complaint and all snuck her an extra chocolate coin. Sofie pretended not to notice, but she did. She’s a real bad liar at the best of times.
Chelsey has spent almost every second of her time at the bar between the holidays. Apparently the Christmas and New Year’s festivities mean she’s demanded there every second of every day, but aside from my brothers and me going to Charleston to sign our contract with our new management, I’ve been at her place waiting for her every day.
Now, though, it’s New Year’s Eve, and she’s home. The first thing she did when she got back two hours ago was put on her beloved yoga pants—that aren’t real freakin’ pants—and search her cupboards to make sure there’s enough salsa to go with the giant bag of chips she brought home. Luckily for her, I brought her beloved Jack Daniel’s and a bottle of wine to boot.
Pretty sure that gets me the Thoughtful Boyfriend Award.
Chelsey takes a deep breath and lies back on the sofa, dropping her head back over the arm. “Isn’t life crazy?”
“By life, do you mean yours?”
“Yeah, I guess. A month ago I was reeling from sleeping with you, then shit went crazy, my father’s business was suddenly my business, but now we’ve made peace with each other.”
Ah, yeah. I forgot Lukas flew in to talk to her. “How’d that go?”
“As well as it could. I realized I was angrier at him for what he didn’t do than what he did. We chatted a lot, and he admitted that the money was his way of being there. He’s going to talk to his accountant and have four thousand dollars go into my savings account instead of my current account so I don’t have to transfer it anymore. He wants me to take the other thousand, for Mom. I don’t want to, but I promised I would. I think he feels really guilty after everything he didn’t do, and this is his way of making sure I don’t have to struggle like she did sometimes.”
I stroke her thigh. “I’m glad you could sort things out. Did you talk about the baby?”
“Yeah. She’s due in a couple of months, and he wants me to be there after she’s born. I think he’s trying to make amends. He also told me he’s going to retire.”
I want to wince at the insinuation. His second baby and he retires? Ouch.
“Don’t.” Chelsey looks at me with a smile. “I thought I’d be bitter, but I’m not. I don’t exactly forgive him for the hell me and Mom went through, but he’s a lot older now. He was at the height of his career when I was born. It’s like Conner leaving the band to be there for Mila. It’s not realistic. This baby will be my sister, as freaky as the age gap is. But I hope he’s learned his lesson.”
“Not such a heartless bitch,” I mutter, adding a smile to soften my words.
She laughs, sitting up and slapping my chest. Her blond hair falls around her face, and each strand that brushes my arm is like a feather. “Only where you’re concerned, Kye Burke. I don’t see you fighting to break through my armor.”
“I don’t need to fight, babe. I melted it with my superior wit and charm, and I fucked it into demolition with my incredible cock.” I curl my hand around her neck and bring her in for a kiss.
She laughs the whole way through it, and fuck me, I don’t think I’ll ever get fed up with that sound. I think it’ll be the one thing I can listen to for the rest of my life and never be bored of.
“You’re somethin’ else, Kye Burke,” she giggles into my mouth.
“Somethin’ else that loves you fuckin’ fiercely,” I say quietly.
“Right back at ya, Superior Monster Cock.”
I grin and nip her bottom lip. “Keep that nickname. I like it.”
That laugh, again. Fuck.
“I know it’s early,” I say, kissing her. “But how about”—kiss—“we call it a year”—kiss—“and ring in the new one with my superior monster cock.”
She pulls back, quirks an eyebrow, and puts one finger over my lips to silence me. “Only if you promise never to refer to your penis as a monster cock again. Ever.”
I stand and pull her up with me, then wrap my arms around her and trap her against me. I lead her into her bedroom, kissing her in a succession of tiny brushes that somehow make me so ready for her.
I throw her onto her bed and lean over her, looking down into the light blue eyes that I fell in love with so many weeks ago. “You got it, babe. You got anything you want.”
Aidan
Dried splashes of red hair dye in the bath. Again.
“Jessie!” I growl. “Would it kill you to use a damn sponge? It’s like you murdered someone in here.”
“Oh, shut your mouth,” she laughs, playfully kicking out at my leg while rubbing a towel around her long hair. “I turned the shower off like ten minutes ago. You’re a bathroom Nazi, Aidan. It won’t stain the precious bathtub.”
I run my eyes over her. The black tank top she’s wearing is ratty, and she said something about it being her “hair dye” shirt so she doesn’t ruin her clothes. Whatever. “Why does it take you ten minutes to take the towel off your head?”
She rolls her eyes. “The towel needs to soak up the excess water. I have a lot of hair, you know.”
“So cut it.”
“If I cut it, you’d have nothing to grab when you fuck me.” She raises both her eyebrows in challenge. Her lips curve into a smug smirk right as blood rushes to my cock.
I fucking hate when she’s right, and it happens way too often.
I reach forward with a shit-eating grin and rip the towel out of her grasp. Her bright hair, still wet, drips down her shirt. She reaches forward for the towel, and I hold it behind my back. “It’s ten p.m. on New Year’s Eve. Why do you need to dye your hair now?”
“Because it’s barbaric to start a new year with old roots?” She snorts and turns. Her hair flicks water across my face, and I wipe it down with a smidge of annoyance.
“You’re gonna paint the walls red.”
“Watch it, rocker boy. You said the bath looks like I killed someone. It wouldn’t be hard to make that a reality!”
“Hey!” I smack her backside and she squeals, clapping her hands over her ass cheeks.
“Fuck, Ads!” she eeks out, darting into the bedroom. “One day you’re gonna make my ass so sore I’ll ban you from touching it.”
“Oh, be quiet.” I grab her and throw her onto the bed. Her laughter fills the room, and her eyes flash with defiance.
“White sheets. Wet red hair. Oh dear.”
Fuck!
I throw the pillows on the floor, then go to the end of the bed and tug hard on the bottom of the duvet. The black sheet underneath I couldn’t give a shit about, but she can’t dye my covers. Not yet, at least. She rolls over onto the sheet as I pull the duvet from under her, and she’s laughing the whole time.
I pin her down by her wrists, leaning over her. My eyes fall to the newly inked red salvia on the inside of her wrist. Mine glares back at me from my right arm, and a smile teases my lips.
A red salvia means “forever mine.”
Such a small thing, which you’d never know matters unless you were versed in the language of flowers. Now I’m no fuckin’ florist, but Google is a wonderful tool. Plus, matching tattoos, pretty dumb, huh?
Maybe if you’re not completely sure that the girl whose eyes you stare into every day is the girl you’re gonna marry.
One day, when we’re not as wild and crazy, I’m gonna marry Jessie Law. I’m gonna make her Jessie Burke. Make her mine forever without a shadow of a doubt.
“You’re starin’ at me again,” she whispers, a smile turning up her pale lips.
I’ve gotten more and more used to seeing her without her scarlet lips, but it’s the vibrancy of her eyes when they’re surrounded by her bare, dark eyelashes that always gets me. “What can I say? I’m appreciating the view.”
“You’re so silly.”
I grin widely. “I know, but I love you, so that counts for something, right?”
She wrestles her hands from mine and flattens them against the sides of my face. She pouts playfully, laughter dancing in her eyes. “A little.”
“A little?”
“Everything,” she corrects softly, “counts for everything, rocker boy.”
“That’s better.” I lower my mouth to hers and kiss her slowly, softly, reveling in the taste of my girl. “Now here’s an idea. Dry your hair so it doesn’t dye half the house and get your ass downstairs. I have a little surprise for you.”
“Uh-oh. The last time you had a surprise for me you made me so mad, Ads.”
Yeah, that Christmas morning surprise didn’t exactly go as planned. “I know, I know. But you’ll like this. I promise.”
She narrows her eyes, but says, “All right. Go pour me a glass of wine like a good Ads.” She pats my cheek, and I get up. Before she can move, I flip her onto her stomach and spank her tight, sweet ass. She screams with laughter, burying her face into the mattress.
“You know better than to sass me, sunshine.”
She crawls away. “That’s exactly why I sass you.”
I shake my head and walk toward the door. “You. Downstairs. Five minutes.”
I dart downstairs and do as she asked. Or told. Whatever. I’m pretty fucking used to her cute little demands—unless that demand is to see if I can pick her up some hair dye before she finishes work. Apparently I picked up the wrong shade of red.
I didn’t even know they made different shades of red hair dye.
She joins me downstairs a few minutes later, her hair now mercifully dry. Thank fuck. “All right. What’s this surprise?”
I grab her hand and tug her down onto the sofa next to me. “New year, right? So start as you mean to go on and all that.”
“If you’re proposing, stop right the fuck now.”
I laugh. “Fuck no. Just giving you this, officially.” I pull the drawer open on the tiny side table next to my arm on the sofa and hand her the silver key dangling from a red heart keychain. “A key here. So if you want to officially move in, you can.”
“Serious?” she gasps, taking the key.
“You’re here at least five nights a week. We could both be home now. . . . Why not?”
She stares at the key for a long minute. Then she clasps it in her palm and throws her arms around my neck. I smile into her hair—which is still slightly damp, actually—and breathe in the sweet scent of my girl.
“You got it, rocker boy,” she says, pulling back to kiss me long and hard. “Prepare for this place to be Jessie’d.”
“I’m terrified.”
“Rightly so.” She grins. “Rightly so.”
Tate
“Nachos?”
“Check.”
“Steak?”
“Check.”
“Beer?”
“Double check.”
“Wine?” her voice turns accusatory.
“Triple. Fuckin’. Check.” I grab Ella and pull her against me, kissing her quickly. “Like I’d really forget the wine. I’m pretty fuckin’ fond of my balls, you know.”
“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m not the violent one. I leave that to Jessie and Chelsey.”
Oh yeah. I don’t envy the twins those two firecrackers. Shit, they’re ticking time bombs, even if they are sweet as hell most of the time.
All right, some of the time.
“I’m kidding,” Ella adds, grabbing a wineglass from the cupboard and searching for the bottle in the fridge. “What time is it?”
“Around eleven,” I answer, holding my hand out for a beer. She shakes her head but passes one anyway, deliberately leaving the bottle opener magnet attached to the fridge so I have to come to her anyway. She grins when I pull it off the fridge and uncap my bottle.
I let the cap fall to the floor, and she glances between it and me with a look that tells me I better pick it up. Since it’s impossible to ignore her, I bend down, grab the cap, and flick it into the trash can. It hits the wall and bounces into it.
Ella purses her lips but doesn’t say anything. I make a kissy-face at her, and she desperately fights her smile. She can’t stay mad at me. I’m too damn cute for that shit. I’m like a fucking puppy on adorable pills.
“Oh, hey! I want to show you something.” Ella grabs my arm and drags me through our open-plan apartment into the living room. Her laptop is open on the coffee table, and I try not to groan when I see it’s open on a realtor website. Ever since I mentioned thinking about buying a house, she’s been on a mission to find the perfect place.
I think it started out as a dream for her. She’s what made me bring it up. When I went to log on to the email, she’d stayed on hers, and the top few were hits from a Realtor website. Curiosity got the best of me and I peeked, and she’d been gazing at houses. Modestly sized houses that are good enough to move into but not perfect for what I know she sees. Good-size yards.
Family houses.
Houses full of warmth and laughter. Somewhere she can call her own.
And fuck, if I wanna give her anything, it’s that. I want to give her somewhere where she can be the whirlwind I know she is. Somewhere she can breathe her lightness into and make it the perfect place she’s always desired.
“Now, don’t freak out,” she says softly, a hint of the old Ella simmering through like it does when she’s worried. It doesn’t anger me anymore. It’s ingrained in her, and it’s happening less and less.
In all honesty, she could look at the fuckin’ White House and I’d do my best to buy it for her. I’d buy her the goddamn world if I could.
“I saw this when I was browsing.” She clicks on the picture. “It’s out of the range of what I usually look for price-wise, and has more bedrooms, so it’s a little more expensive . . .” She trails off, her eyes flitting to me for approval.
“Go on.”
“Four bedrooms,” she says, a little excitement creeping into her voice. “Four baths, including an ‘en suite’ in the master. Two living rooms, a huge kitchen-dining room, a double garage so you guys can play music there, too. Plus there’s a study big enough for books.” She sighs on the word “books.” A low, longing sigh that tugs on my heart.
It’s only been recently that I’ve discovered her love for Belle’s library in that Disney Beauty and the Beast movie. And if she’s sighing “books” that softly, that desperately, I don’t need to see pictures.
I don’t need to look at a single damn thing except the number for the realtor to arrange a viewing for her.
“We’ll call as soon as they open in two days,” I say, reaching forward and closing her laptop.
“But you didn’t look.” She goes to open it again, and I hold it closed.
“Els, darlin’?”
She swallows. “Yes?”
“Does the idea of that house make you happy? Make you walk-on-fuckin’-water happy?”
She nods, her gorgeous eyes coming to mine hesitantly.
“Then it makes me part-the-ocean fuckin’ happy.” I smile slowly, setting her hand on her lap. “We’ll call, we’ll view, and if we love it, I’ll go and fuckin’ buy it for you. Clear?”
“It’s not a bottle of wine, Tate,” she says softly. “It’s a house.”
“But it could be our house,” I correct her. “Darlin’, as long as you’re happy and I’ve got a place to love you every day and every night, I’m happy. I’m goddamn ecstatic if I have that.” I cup her cheek and kiss the tip of her nose. “Got it?”
“Got it.” She smiles and kisses my palm. “Hey, Tate?”
“What’s up, darlin’?”
“Love you.”
I smile and bring her lips to mine. She tastes sweet like her wine. “Love you too.”
Conner
I kiss Mila’s forehead and hesitate in her room, making sure she’s fully back to sleep before I tiptoe out and close her door behind me. God, that girl. That gorgeous, sweet girl.
Every day I love her a little more.
Just like I love her mom.
Every day that scoots past us puts so many things into perspective. Will I ever get back the time with Mila that I missed? No. I’ve come to terms with that, but I’m so thankful that Sofie didn’t try to hide her when she came back. I’ll be forever grateful to the only girl I’ve ever loved that she never lied when I asked her.
I’ll be forever fucking grateful that she gave me the love of my goddamn life.
I spent so much time lamenting the lost months, even after Sofie and Mila got on the tour bus in the summer. She screwed up, but I did, too. Our time has been marred by that. Add in Sof’s difficulties at adjusting to having a support system, and it wasn’t easy.
We never tried to pretend it was.
We’re there now, though. We’ve adjusted as well as we’re ever gonna, and the ticking of the clock has been taunting me for days now.
New year. New start. New everything.
I want to begin it that way.
No matter what’s happened, I love Sofie. I love her so fucking intensely that it physically hurts me sometimes.
She’s mine. I’m hers. It’s the way we’ve always been.
It’s always been us. It’ll always be us. I’m going to see to that. Tonight. Just as soon as I’ve grown the balls.
“Is she okay?” Sofie cranes her neck back over the sofa.
“She’s fine. She dropped Bunna.” I smile and hold my hand out for her glass. “Another?”
She glances at the clock. “Sure. It isn’t long to midnight.”
“Less than an hour,” I agree, taking the glass. My palm is quickly sweaty, and I dart to the kitchen. I wipe my hand against my sweatpants desperately, trying to get rid of the physical embodiment of my anxiousness. I pour her a glass of wine, a large one, and pull a dark brown bottle of Budweiser from the fridge. I uncap it with the bottle opener and drop the cap into the sink.
My heart is pounding in my chest. This whole thing is so fucking cliché, but who cares? I don’t. I’d do it any day of the week, but after everything we’ve been through this year, tonight feels right.
“Here.” I put her glass on the table in front of her and sit down, immediately chugging beer from my bottle.
“Con?” her voice is gentle. “Are you okay, hon?”
“Fine,” I reply tightly. Fuck, that’s convincing, isn’t it, dickhead?
She doesn’t respond, but she gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me. It’s all right, princess, I don’t fucking believe me either.
My hands are sweating again. My stomach is tying itself in knots and my heart is just about ready to explode. Meanwhile, I want to bang my head against the nearest wall until I pass out.
Fuckety fucking fucky fuck fuck.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sofie demands, cutting through my inner thoughts. She takes the bottle from me and slams it on the coffee table, and I focus on it.
Nearly empty.
Shit. Fuck you, nerves.
“Conner!” she says, worry threading through her tone. “I can tell somethin’s wrong. What is it? What’s on your mind?”
I bite my tongue and shake my head. Grow a pair, you fucking pussy! Ask her!
“Con,” she repeats my name, this time softer, her voice like a lullaby.
“Marry me,” I blurt, turning my head to her. She freezes, her eyes widening. “Fuck. It wasn’t supposed to come out like that.” I get up and bury my hands in my hair, facing away from her.
Shit! There goes my master romance plan at midnight. Don’t worry, Romeo. I’m not taking your spot anytime soon.
“How was it supposed to come out?” she asks shakily.
I look at her. She’s recovered from my outburst and looks calmer than I feel. Except for the hesitant fear in her eyes. Fear I can assuage.
“It was supposed to come out on one knee right before midnight. Like it does in those damn romance novels you love so much.”
She glances over my shoulder, tears glistening in her eyes. “It isn’t midnight, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do the rest,” she whispers. “Ask me, Conner.”
This time, I don’t bother to wipe away my sweaty palms. Instead I bend down on one knee in front of her and take her hand. It’s as clammy as mine, and in this moment, it hits me. She and I, we’re birds of a feather. We’re one and the same and we always will be.
She’s my soul mate.
The anxiety drains out of my body.
“Sofie Callahan, it hasn’t always been easy. We’ve hurt more than many people ever will, but we’ve loved harder than them, too.” Heated tears prick my eyes as hers threaten to spill over. “We could be eighteen or eighty and it wouldn’t change the way I love you. With everything. The way I love you, I mean. Everything that I have been, will be, and am right now.”
“Con,” she stutters, covering her hand with her mouth.
“It didn’t happen perfectly, but you gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for from you. You gave me Mila. You gave me fuckin’ perfection, princess. And as her daddy, I have a duty to her to love her mommy for as long as I live. And the best part of that duty is that I can’t wait to fulfill it.” I pause, taking a deep, shaky breath. “Will you let me, Sof? Will you let me love you for the rest of my life? Will you marry me?”
The longest moment passes between us, until she finally nods. Frantically, she nods again and again, tears pouring out of her eyes. She launches herself at me, and then she’s in my arms, and she’s so tiny. She’s crying and I’m crying, and the box is burning a hole in my pocket.
“Oh fuck. I’m terrible at this.” I lean back, letting her go, and pull the tiny box from my pocket. I open the top, revealing a princess-cut diamond—the second the guy at the diamond place said what it was called, I knew I’d never pick anything else—and show it to her.
“You’re such an idiot,” she half-laughs, half-cries, hugging me again.
And it doesn’t matter about the ring. It doesn’t matter about the way I fucked it up royally.
It matters that she loves me and I love her.
It matters that both of us are exactly where we should be. Forever.