Chapter 4
Kids. They squeal, cackle, and shriek with joy as they run amok everywhere. Sarah and Jackson have a backyard full. Half of them are playing a weird version of kickball, some are horsing around in the pool, and the others? Well, Gracie has them lined up beside me, all eager as hell for me to toss them into the water.
Yep. I’m the designated kid tosser and full-time lifeguard. No thanks to Kyce’s lazy ass, who quickly scurried away inside.
Emma, Gracie’s best friend, shrieks when I lift her from under her arms and throw her into the pool. She’s cackling, flailing her little limbs just as she hits the water.
“Unk Ry! I’m next,” Gracie declares from my right.
“Oh, you’re next alright.” I snatch her up, throwing her over my shoulder. “The birthday girl needs a special birthday throw.” I chuckle moving toward the diving board.
She kicks and squirms, squealing with laughter. “No. Don’t!”
I’m grinning like a bastard as I step out to the end of the board, but suddenly, she whips herself around to face me, constricting my chest with her little legs, and latches on to the back of my neck.
“I’m not going in without you,” she tries her best to stay stoic but her voice breaks with giggles.
I shake my head holding on to her sides. “Wanna bet?”
Her little eyebrows furrow with determination. Her hazel eyes zero madly. “I do bet.”
In slow motion, I watch her lean, stretching backward and pulling with all her tiny might.
Could I stop what’s about to happen? Of course.
Will I? Absolutely not. What kind of uncle would I be if I did?
I feign a stumble and allow her to haul my big ass into the water.
“I told you!” she cackles, water splashing me in the face as she slings her pointy little finger at me.
“That was a cheap shot,” I tease.
“You taught me any way to get away is the best way.” She burns me with a frolicsome smirk and splashes away from me.
Whitney’s holding a towel, looking amused as hell when I lift out of the water.
I smile and shrug. “I’ve taught her well.”
“I feel bad for her future boyfriends,” she quips.
“Me too. She’s got a mean father and a vicious pack behind him protecting her.”
“We’re about to cut the cake and do presents,” she says.
After wiping my face off with the towel, I whistle over the ruckus of kids and yell out it’s cake time. Squawks, shouts, screams, and shrills come from all different directions as the moment of excited chaos erupts.
Whitney slides her hand into mine and we circle around the crowd of kids eagerly waiting to sing “Happy Birthday” so they can get some cake. Kyce’s punk ass strolls out of the house with Jackson and Sarah, wielding Gracie’s birthday cake.
Whitney was enlisted to help, and of course, she was excited to. She went to her go-to bakery and had them make a two-tier cake that’s pink with black and white polka-dots, some stripes, and a bunch of ruffly icing along the bottom. On the top, the number nine is centered, held by more sugary icing.
“Happy Birthday” sung—check.
At least one monkey remark—check.
Several kids jumping, clapping, and squealing after song was over—check.
Gracie’s cheeks red as hell—priceless.
“Ryker, would you like a piece of cake?” Sarah asks as she hands the last kid her plate.
“Nah. I’m good,” I tell her.
I don’t miss the look between Sarah, Jackson, Kyce, Gracie, and Whitney. It might have been a quick glance, but it makes my skin crawl, heightening my senses of anticipation. I tense as Whitney stands beside me with her plate, taking a bite of the chocolate cake. Next, Kyce shifts to my right, he too, only taking a bite. Sarah moves to stand beside where Gracie is sitting. And Jackson…he’s on the other side of the table.
The tautness levels out after several moments of listening, watching, and feeling everything out. Sarah makes small talk with Gracie and Emma, Jackson and Kyce chat amongst themselves, and Whit observes.
Part of the kids have begun playing in the yard waiting for everyone to finish so they can see what Gracie got. Kyce and Whitney ask for seconds—not unusual.
“At least have a bite for my birthday, Unk Ry,” Gracie says with soft eyes.
“I can’t, Poohbear.” I hold my ground against the damn puppy dog eyes.
“But it’s my birthday. You should take one bite,” she whines and then holds up the fork. “Lick the fork. It’s soooo good.”
Whit nudges me in the ribs. “It’s her birthday. You should try her cake. One bite isn’t going to hurt you.”
Gracie is still eyeing me with pleading eyes.
And I’m a fucking sucker for it.
She hands me her plate.
“Careful, Ryker.” Jackson smirks. “You might turn into an ogre.”
Narrowing my eyes, I tilt my head at the shithead and I swear it triggers a fucking bomb.
Quickly and simultaneously, Kyce shuffles behind me, blocking my retreat. The women—Whitney, Sarah, and Gracie—scoop up plates and slam them into my face, including the fucking one in my hand.
Cake and icing plaster my face.
Gracie is squealing and everyone is doubled over with laughter when I wipe the coating of chocolate from my eyes. I lunge, snatching her up and kissing her cheeks. I drag my face all over hers and toss her over my shoulder. Then I reach out and grab Whitney by her waist.
“You’re dirty,” I say.
She pulls back, but my grip is tight as I bend, lifting her off the ground. She laughs, squirming and pushing off me. Unlike Gracie, Whit’s more to handle, but not enough for me to lose. I’m on a fucking mission for payback.
Gracie’s still cackling.
With both my loves and ten feet separating us from the pool, Jackson steps off from the side with his large shithead grin.
“And where do you think you’re going with my daughter?” he asks.
Thankfully, the girls have quit wiggling. I shrug the shoulder Gracie’s on. “Not far.”
Sarah steps beside Jackson with her arms crossed, a faint smile threatening her lips. “Put them down.”
I laugh, step around them, and leap into the pool.
Gracie’s a fit of bubbles when she emerges.
Whitney springs up, her hair slick and flat against her head. Her eyes are smiling, but the gorgeous mouth of hers isn’t.
“You’re in hot water,” Whitney finally chortles, wading in the water.
Gracie paddles over to her. “That backfired.”
Whitney smirks at me. “Not necessarily. He still ate the cake.”
I’m still on a mission. I hop out of the pool and make my way to my next intended victim. Sarah backs up toward the corner, laughing and gasping for air, holding her hands up.
I seize her wrists and she yelps, trying to pull away.
I feel his presence behind me. Suddenly, Jackson slips his arms around my neck, tugging me into a playful chokehold.
“Release my wife,” he says.
“Not a fat chance.”
Kyce hurries over and helps Sarah get free from my grip, but dumbass puts himself in a vulnerable situation and I snake my arm around his neck, putting him in a chokehold.
I’m the more experienced one. It’s my fucking job to know how to get out of ugly situations, but these two have a solid fucking plan. I twist, trying to get out of Jackson’s hold but not releasing Kyce. We’re all grunting and groaning, wrestling around.
They maneuver together and jerk me to the side of the pool. Instantly, I’m tossed in, but not without seizing arms.
Guess who comes in with me? That’s right. The whole fucking Hayes clan.
“Boys!” my beautiful mother calls out and then snickers.
She’s beaming, her head tilted with her pretty copper hair falling over her shoulders. Her round hazel eyes are rich with evidence of how happy she is etched at the corners.
“They started it,” Kyce chuckles, pulling himself out of the water.
Jackson and I both shove out of the water and eye Kyce.
“Snitch,” I mumble under my breath with laughter.
“I was helping Sarah—”
“You were in on this too, Canary,” Jackson bites with a snicker.
It’s like we’re kids again.
We all burst out laughing.
“You’re too old to ground,” Dad says, stepping out from the house. “Not too old to bend you all over my knee.” He’s grinning from ear to ear. “For now, clean up the cake mess.”
After witnessing a very spoiled little girl get more than she needs, we help clean up before taking off.
“You down for a run?” I ask, reaching across the truck to hold her hand.
She moans toward the ceiling. “Yeeeesss.” She draws the word out.
I chuckle under my breath. “I’m gonna stop by the gym. We’ll change there.”
“A gym run?” I can hear the disappointment in her voice.
“No. Something better,” I tell her.
It satisfies her and she smiles, relaxing back into the seat, still holding my hand and dragging her thumb over my knuckles.
After changing and grabbing a few things from the gym, I pull into a parking lot along her old running route. I ran this with her for months, enjoying her company and hating she did it at night.
She grins looking out the window.
“Figured we could take your old path.” I shrug.
That smile. The way her eyes are lit the fuck up, her face shining her happiness, is exactly why she makes me so fucking weak. I aim to see it.
She rounds the truck and stretches to kiss my jaw. “Thank you.” Her voice is soft and velvety, and then she pats my chest. “Try to keep up.”
She used to tell me that when I first started running with her. I invited myself in hopes to get exactly where I’m at now.
I laugh, pushing off to settle into a stride beside her. Most people run for many health reasons. They count steps and keep up with heart rates and all that jazz. And even though it’s healthy, Whit does it to empty her mind from the day’s worries. She needs an outlet daily and running is her preferred way. I watch out of the corner of my eyes—her long strides, feet pounding the concrete, thoughts dissolving from her mind—and I’m next to her with a load of shit on my mind.
She’s simply the most beautiful woman I’ve ever set eyes on. She’s confident, stunning, a heart of gold, professional…this list is a fucking mile long. All her positives force my ass to be better. She makes me walk a straighter line.
I chuckle at the thought.
“What?” she asks.
“First time we ran together, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Nothing’s changed.”
She smiles. “You made me so nervous.”
“Why the hell did I make you nervous? We were in your territory.”
She glances at me like I’m an idiot. “Place a lion in your house and you’d be nervous too. You’re intimidating as hell and you know it.”
“I didn’t intimidate you.” I laugh.
She rolls her eyes. “The hell you didn’t. I swear you were just there to mess with my head. That run did damage. Major damage.” She giggles. “I went home with more things on my mind than what I started with.”
We take the turn heading in the direction of her favorite part—the park where the trees dress up the path. As we enter under them, she closes her eyes and inhales the aroma. She enjoys it. Me? It’s overwhelming as hell. It’s flowery and smells like my grandmothers’ front door. That woman had so many flowers on her porch, you couldn’t help but to be bombarded with the scent and bees. Fucking bees.
I stop, grabbing her arm. “Enjoy it.” I’m grinning devilishly.
She gazes up at me and smiles. “You said that very thing on our first run.”
I pull her to me, wrapping my arm around her waist. “I haven’t forgotten. The way you looked, Whitney. You were staggering. Just as you are now.”
I release her, clutching her hand, and lead us toward the bench. My heart is fucking slapping the ever living shit out of my ribs. My fucking hands are motherfucking sweaty as fuck.
In front of the bench, strategically placed, is a heart made from red rose petals with several white battery-powered candles—because Candice was scared I’d burn the park down with real ones.
Whitney gasps when she sees it. I pull her into the middle, hold both her hands, and take the shakiest breath I’ve ever taken in my life.
“I fell in love with you at this very spot. I knew I was staring at my future. You make me a better person. Whit, you’re the challenge I’ve longed for. Someone who can handle me and all my flaws. I’m stubborn as fuck. Far from perfect, but I strive to be your perfect.”
Her eyes begin to well up with tears. My pulse is battering my temples as I pull the little black box out of my pocket and drop to a shaky as fuck knee. Her hand flies to her mouth.
“You’re all I need. All I want to wake up beside, all I want to hold at night. I want to walk through life with you by my side. Whitney, will you be my wife?”
I cannot fucking breathe.
Tears stream down her cheeks. She nods before gasping out, “Yes.”
With the tightest throat, I slide the ring onto her finger. She wraps her arms around my neck, weeping.
She smacks the fuck out of my chest. “You asshole,” she cries and then laughs.
I chuckle. “I have your dad’s blessing.”
She looks up to me with wet eyes.
“We had a long talk when you and your mom went shopping,” I inform her.
“Is that why you invited them? Not just to get them to like you?”
I kiss her lips. “I needed him to like me so he’d like your husband.”
With my thumb, I wipe away a tear from under her eye. “I know I don’t say it nearly enough, but I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She looks at her ring. “It’s beautiful.”