Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Bree

 

It's late before Milo's car pulls into the driveway, but I'm up and waiting for them. I had Matilda take Owen and put him to bed, but I'm not alone. Milo had called and let me know it was safe to come out of the panic room. That the situation had been handled and Clyde was still alive.

No one was more surprised than me at the overwhelming sense of relief I felt upon hearing those words. Who knew?

When the front door opens, my parents rush to the door. Tears are streaming down my mother's cheeks and even my dad looks a little choked with emotion. It's strange in that I have very rarely seen my father express any emotion other than anger. I guess the thought of losing his son, his pride and joy, was a little too much to bear.

When Clyde steps through the door, my mother throws her arms around him, hugging him tight. My father grabs hold of Clyde's shoulder and squeezes it, a small, relieved smile on his face. I'm pretty sure I even see the glimmer of tears welling in his eyes.

I stand near the staircase, my hand on the bannister, watching it all unfold. I still feel shocked by the events of the night, and a lingering tremor of fear. I also feel an overwhelming sense of sadness and loss. My heart is shattered into a million pieces.

Clyde's gaze locks onto mine and I see an open and genuine pain in his eyes I have never seen before, not from my brother. In fact, as he looks at me, I see tears forming in his eyes. He walks towards me, pulling me into a hug, which takes me completely by surprise. He holds me tight and for a long moment, I stand there, unsure what to do. Eventually, I wrap my arms around him in return and hug him back.

“Bree, I'm so sorry,” he says softly. “For everything.”

“Clyde, I –”

“This is all so stupid. I easily could have died tonight. In fact, I saw a man die tonight. Had half his head blown off. And you know what I realized?” he asks. “If I died you and Owen would have had nothing but horrible memories of me. My nephew would have hated me. And he would have been right to do so.”

I feel my stomach clench and a sadness streak through me when he says he saw a man die. My first thought is that something had happened to Milo. That somehow, Milo had died. I didn't think I could feel more devastated than I already did, but I was wrong. Seriously wrong.

I'm so overwhelmed by it – the loss and pain I'm feeling – as well as Clyde's sudden change of heart. I don't know what to do with myself. But then I look up, and see Milo standing in the doorway. He looks back at me, his expression veiled, his eyes void of anything other than grief. Which tells me that the man Clyde saw die had been Milo's brother.

Another brother. That makes two, in less than a month, who have lost their lives because of this stupid feud between our families.

Clyde came out completely unscathed, but Milo looks pretty roughed up. He's got some bruises and scrapes, and I can see a white bandage beneath his shirt sleeve. Though, given the fact that he's here and not in the hospital, it can't be anything serious. The relief I feel is overpowering and it makes my heart inflate to the point that I feel like crying.

Milo is just standing there, staring right at me. I'm shocked when my mom walks over to him, takes his hands in hers, and thanks him for saving Clyde's life. Even my father is grateful enough to shake hands with Milo – probably the first time a Longstreet man has shaken hands with a Sheridan in over a hundred years.

But, if any of that matters to Milo, it doesn't show on his face. He looks upset. Haunted.

Clyde pulls away from me, a small smile on his lips. He turns and ushers Milo deeper into the house – something I never thought I'd see in my lifetime. The two almost look like old friends, though I know this war won't end that easily. I know that it will take time to heal old wounds, and for everyone to trust one another.

But at least for tonight, one Sheridan seems welcome in the Longstreet home, and that is something I never thought I'd witness.

Progress. It's not always a bad thing.

I shift my eyes to the floor as Milo passes by. I can't look at him. I'm angry. Ashamed. And fearful. My eyes are burning, and I feel the tears forming, threatening to spill down my cheeks, but I wipe them away.

“I'm going to check on Owen,” I whisper to my mom.

I hurry toward the stairs, my eyes burning more and more, but I refuse to cry until I'm alone in my room. How could I have been so stupid to fall for Milo? After everything we have been through? After everything that has happened? How could I have let myself fall for him?

I've been stupid and naive. Again. Apparently, I didn't learn from getting burned the first time. The most I should have hoped for is an amicable custody arrangement and child support. But, a relationship with him? No chance in hell, not after keeping his son from him for seven long years.

Milo is a man who is built to fight, and I can't help but worry that he's gearing up to go to war with me for Owen.

I reach the stairs and start to climb them when I hear my name. Milo's voice rings out.

“Bree, wait,” he says gently as he follows me up the stairs. “We should talk.”

I freeze and feel my eyes grow wide. I know I must look like a deer caught in the headlights, standing their motionless, but I can't seem move or act natural. I know that I should keep walking. Emotions are running high, so I know it would be smart to avoid this confrontation right now. But, I can't.

Milo touches my arm softly, pulling me to face him. My heart is beating loudly in my breast. I don't dare look into his eyes, knowing that I won't like what I'll see.

“I'm sorry about your brother,” I say.

The ghost of a smile touches his lip. “Me too,” he says. “Zach, he – I guess it hasn't all hit me just yet. But, Zach made his own bed. Stubborn ass. He wouldn’t listen to me. Wouldn't let go of the past.”

He looks at me and I see the sadness written on his face. That he's hurting but doing his best to keep it all down. His eyes look sad. Haunted. I can't imagine what losing two brothers in less than a month would feel like. I won’t ever know. But, seeing the grief etched on Milo's face makes my heart hurt for him.

“Milo, it's okay,” I say. “We don't have to talk about this right now.”

“Yes, we do. I need to talk about this right now,” he says. “I need to apologize to you, Bree. I'm sorry for how I reacted. I was overwhelmed and emotional, but that gave me no right to be an asshole. So, I'm sorry.”

“Sorry?” I stammer, finally meeting his eyes. “You're sorry? I should be the one begging for forgiveness here, not you.”

His eyes are deep and full of emotion and I feel like I might drown in those swirling blue depths, But, there's a half-smile on his lips that warms me right to my core. He reaches out, letting his fingertips run along my jawline and then up to my cheek. He wipes away some of the tears that are falling, and I can't help but lean into his touch. My heart swells and the tears falling aren't tears of sadness, but tears of relief. Tears of happiness.

“I understand why you had to do it now. I understand the position you were in,” he says. “I'm still a little hurt that you didn't trust me, but – I get it now. I get that you were only looking out for our son, and I appreciate that, Bree.”

Our son. My heart thunders in my chest. I've been a single mother since the day he was born, and the idea of sharing Owen with anyone scares me, more than almost anything else in this life. But, if there is one person I might be willing to share him with, it's his father. It's Milo.

“I love him, Milo,” I say softly. “More than I ever thought possible.”

He takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips. “After all you've been through, you're still one hell of a mother. You've raised an amazing little boy,” he says. “And you've done it all by yourself, Bree. All on your own. You've been alone for far too long. You won’t be now, though. Not if you'll have me.”

“Of course, Milo,” I say. “I'd love for Owen to have a relationship with his father.”

“Not just Owen,” he says, looking a little sheepish – a look that surprises me. “You too. I want to know if you'll have me.”

I suck in a sharp breath, and abruptly feel lightheaded. My heart pounds harder and my vision begins to blur. My legs are still rubbery from earlier and I find myself thankful that I have the bannister for support, otherwise I might be tumbling down the stairs.

When I look into his eyes, I see an earnestness and sincerity that burns right through the core of me. It melts the ice around my heart and breaks down the walls that I've constructed over the years.

“Are you asking me if –”

“I'm asking if we can be together, officially. You and me,” he says. “Now, I can't promise I'll be a good boyfriend, but – I'd like to give it a try. The one promise I can make is that no matter what, I'll be a good father to Owen.”

“You and me? Officially?” I ask. “What would your family think of that?”

“Screw them,” he says, his eyes flashing with anger. “I've done my own thing for years and this isn't any different. I'm tired of the family and the past they cling to. If they want to keep fixating on it, that's on them. They'll miss out on the chance to get to know a beautiful little boy and an amazing woman. You should know by now, that when I want something, I go after it. And Bree Longstreet, the last few days have made me realize one important thing.”

“And what's that?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“That I want to be with you,” he says. “That I want to be with you and give both you and Owen an amazing life.”

I swallow the hard lump in my throat and stare deeply into his eyes. Those eyes that pulled me in eight years ago and set in motion a chain of events that have taken me to the lowest, and highest, points in my life. That roguish smile had melted my heart and unlocked something deep within me that I never knew existed. Something fierce and primal.

Except this time, I have a face and a name to go with those eyes and that smile. We also share a child.

“I meant it when I said I felt something special with you, Bree,” he says. “I'd like a chance to explore that. I want to see where it goes. I want to prove to you that I can be a good man – that I'm better than my family name.”

I nod and take a deep breath. I let it out and once again raise my eyes to meet his, feeling my heart swell so much I’m afraid it might burst. For the first time in a long, long time, I feel a tiny flicker of hope – and maybe even a touch of happiness – fill my heart.

“I'd like that too, actually,” I say. “I'd like that a lot.”

His smile grows wider, and he pulls me into a tight embrace, lightly kissing the top of my head. I close my eyes and rest my head against his chest, inhaling his musky, manly scent. When I step back, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me – right there in the middle of my family home – and I kiss him back.

No longer do I have fear of anyone seeing us. I'm a grown woman and this is the father of my child. I have every right to be with him. There's no shame in that. There never should have been any shame to begin with.

When we pull away, I see my parents standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at us. My dad shoots him a disapproving glare – the glare of a father to a boyfriend, not of a Longstreet to a Sheridan. There is a distinct difference between the two. I know my family is going to take a little time to overcome the longstanding hatred between our families, but I feel that, for the first time, we're actually on the right path.

My mom gives Milo a small smile, and when we move to the top of the stairs to let them pass, she hesitates and throws her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. When she pulls back and looks at him, I can see that her eyes are rimmed with tears.

“We're going to bed,” mom says, offering me the first warm, genuine smile I can recall in years. “Milo is more than welcome to stay in the guest room since it's late.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Longstreet,” Milo says.

“Please, call me Vivienne,” she says, taking my dad's hand.

My dad pauses and looks at Milo. He shuffles his feet and clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. But hey, at least he's trying. I have to give him some credit for that. Finally, he extends his arm and shakes Milo's hand one more time.

“Thank you for saving our son's life, Mr. Sheridan –”

“Milo, please,” he says.

My dad manages a small smile. “Milo then, thank you again,” he says. “We may have a long way to go with your family still, but you will always be welcome under our roof.”

He pats Milo on the back and they head down to the master bedroom, leaving the two of us alone.

“So, what do you say?” I whisper, “You dare stay the night in the Longstreet home?”

“Wow, I'm not sure if I'm deserving of that honor –” he teases.

I kick him playfully in the shins, just for old time's sake. He feigns a grimace and pretends that it hurt.

“But sure, why not?” he says. “I'll probably be the first in my family to have done so.”

“Come on,” I say, leading him by the hand down to my room.

I pause outside of Owen's room, and I consider, for a moment, going in and waking him. I'm excited for Milo to get to know his son, but I also know it's going to be a slow process. It can't and shouldn’t happen overnight.

“Want to see your son?” I ask him, my voice barely a whisper. “He's asleep, but I should check in on him anyway. Make sure all the racket didn't wake him up.”

“I'd love to,” Milo says.

His voice sounds shaky, but I can't really blame him for that. This all has to be overwhelming for him. I open Owen's bedroom door quietly, and we peek inside. Our son is lying in his Star Wars bedding, tucked away nice and safe. A Death Star nightlight illuminates the room, giving off a soft white glow. Milo smiles as he checks out the theme.

“I loved Star Wars as a kid too,” he says quietly.

I squeeze his hand. “It's not the only thing he's inherited from you, trust me.”

We inch over to his bed, and Milo falls down to his knees beside it. He stares at our sleeping child with a mixed expression of reverence and awe, as if he still can't believe Owen is real. I lean over, and kiss Owen's forehead and he mutters something in his sleep.

“I love you, baby,” I whisper into his ear as I push the hair back from his face.

“Love you too, mama,” he says, not even opening his eyes. I doubt he's awake.

Milo remains quiet, just looking at his child. Our son. I give him all the time he needs, stepping back into a corner of the room, allowing him to come to terms with the fact that he’s a father. I hear him whispering, and strain to make out the words.

“I may have missed out on seven years of your life, but I'm going to make it up to you,” he says. “I missed so, so much, but I promise I'll be here, from now on. I’ll be here for you. Always.”

Hearing Milo's voice waver ever so slightly, I go to him. I stroke his head and he leans against me, and for the first time, I see tears in his eyes. It kills me to see him crying. I find that I would do anything to make those tears stop. Eventually, he wipes the tears away from his face and stands up, leaning down to plant a kiss on Owen's forehead before walking towards the door. I follow behind, shutting the door quietly behind us.

“Thank you, Bree,” Milo says, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He pulls me in close, holding me tightly against his chest for a while. I'm grateful and amazed to be in his arms, to listen to his heart beating, as we stand outside of our son's room. No matter what the future holds for us, at least we have this moment.

“I can't wait to get to know him,” he says. “Though, I understand we may need to take things slow.”

I nod. “I'm happy to have you be part of your son's life, Milo,” I say. “Now that I know you and see the man you've become.”

“And I couldn't have asked for a better mother for my child,” he says. “I'm just sorry you've had to do it alone for so long.”

“The past is the past,” I say. “Just like our families need to let go, we do too.”

He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and kisses me, a long and intense kiss. My mouth opens to him, inviting him in. Our tongues swirl and dance in my mouth, and as our kiss grows in heat and passion, he weaves his fingers through my hair, gently tugging on it.

He pulls back and looks at me, a small smile on his lips. My mouth is burning from his kiss and I feel the fire igniting between my thighs. I long to have him inside of me again.

“I guess I should get to the guest room,” Milo says wistfully.

“No way,” I say, taking his hand in mine. “You're sleeping with me tonight.”

“And what will your parents think about that?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow and giving me a devilish smirk.

“Doesn't matter. I'm a grown woman,” I say. “I can do whatever I please. I can even have boys in my room if I want.”

We step into my room and I shut the door behind us. Milo turns to me and envelops me in his large, strong arms. He pushes me up against the door, his hard, toned body pressed to mine. He kisses me passionately before slowing down and dotting a line of kisses along my neck.

“You can even have a Sheridan boy in your room?” he asks. “How scandalous. The hens in town will be clucking if they ever hear about this.”

“Hmm, now that you mention it, maybe we shouldn't,” I tease.

Milo steps back, unsure if I'm serious or not. I pull on his shirt, yanking him closer to me and laugh.

“Maybe we should sneak out to the garden,” I say. “For old time's sake. I might even have that mask I wore, somewhere.”

“Damn, that would be so hot,” he growls, nibbling my ear lobe. “Bending you over and fucking you in the gazebo again is easily my top fantasy – mask or not. Thinking about that got me through some dark times over in Afghanistan.”

“You bring a mask, and it's on, baby,” I say, laughing as Milo lifts me up and carries me to the bed.

“Deal,” he says.

Milo lays me down on the bed gently, standing over me. He looks me up and down, his eyes roaming my body. They glitter in the darkness and I see that enigmatic smile on his lips. My body instantly reacts. I feel the familiar flutter in my stomach and my panties grow wet. I crook my finger at him and smile.

“Come here, baby,” I purr.

Milo removes his belt, dropping it to the floor with a clatter. As he steps closer to me, he lifts up his shirt, exposing his perfectly chiseled chest and abs. I drink him in, my eyes roaming his flawless physique. My panties are soaked before his shirt even hits the ground.

When he gets close enough, I sit up and reach for his zipper, sliding it down as I look into his eyes. We never break eye contact as I slip his pants down his hips. Gripping the base of his cock with my hand, I lick my lips and smile.

“Is this what you want, baby?” I coo. “Do you want your cock in my mouth?”

He doesn't say a word. Instead, he just grips my hair and pulls my head back. Grabbing his cock from my hands, he rubs it against my lips, his pre-cum leaving a slick trail that I lap up, eagerly. He lets go of my hair, stepping forward, pressing his cock against my mouth. I part my lips and let the head of his dick slip inside.

I swirl my tongue around the tip, drawing a moan from him. Gripping his cock again, I start to stroke him as I work my tongue around the head of his stiff rod. Milo moans and grips my hair again. Instead of pulling my hair back this time, he pushes my head down, slipping more of his thick erection into my mouth.

I take in as much of him as I can and use my hand to make up the difference.

“Yes, baby,” he growls. “Suck my cock. I need to feel your mouth on me.”

I do as he tells me, moving my head and hand up and down his hard pole in unison. I suck harder, tighten my grip and work his cock like I have something to prove. Milo gasps and moans, drawing in a sharp breath when I use my free hand to squeeze his balls.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “This feels so fucking amazing.”

I keep sucking and stroking him and I feel his body tense. He draws in a long, shuddering breath and grips my hair harder, pulling his cock out of my mouth, a lopsided grin on his face.

“You have to stop, baby,” he says. “Or you're going to end up with a mouthful of my cum.”

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” I say.

“I'm not done with you yet,” he growls. “Not even close.”

“I was hoping not.”

“Get up.”

I jump to my feet and he quickly undresses me. He's like a magician, his hands move so fast. I stand naked before him, as a rush of exhilaration and anticipation courses through my body. Milo devours me with his eyes. The way he looks at me, fucking me with his eyes, sends a flutter of excitement through me that I can't control. I grow hotter and wetter the longer he looks at me. I'm already dying for him to fuck me.

“I need you, Milo,” I say at last. “I need you inside of me.”

He reaches out and I think he's going to pull me to him, but when he pushes me onto the bed instead, I let out a soft yelp of surprise. He's on me before I even realize what's happening. Giving me a fast, hard kiss, Milo runs the tip of his tongue down my body, teasing my nipples, trailing down my stomach, moving lower and lower.

My breath catches in my throat as he runs the tip of his tongue around the wet, swollen lips of my pussy. I have to stifle a cry when he plunges his tongue deep inside of me. I grip his hair, pulling it hard as he licks and sucks on my clit. He drives his fingers into my pussy and my body explodes in bursts of sensation.

“Jesus fuck, Milo,” I gasp.

He licks and sucks me forcefully, plunging his fingers deeper into my tight, hot slit. I grind myself against him, my body vibrating from the energy of having his mouth on me. He's working me with his mouth, two fingers pumping the depths of my pussy as he sucks and nibbles on my clit at the same time.

He withdraws his fingers and buries his tongue inside of me, licking and sucking, savoring my juices. His eyes lock on mine as he eats me, nothing but pure desire and naked lust reflected in his gaze. Out of nowhere, I feel my body seize up. I draw in a shuddering breath and have to bite my hand to keep from screaming.

My orgasm suddenly crashes over me. It's powerful and sends immense waves of pleasure through me. Milo continues licking as my pussy spasms and pulses rapidly, seeming to enjoy every second of me coming in his mouth.

Slowly, the orgasm subsides, and I feel like a limp noodle. It takes a minute, but my breathing finally slows as my heartbeat becomes manageable. Milo is flashing me that roguish smile, his eyes flashing seductively.

“That was incredible,” I say.

Milo reaches down and pulls me to my feet. As if I weigh nothing, he picks me up and as I wrap my legs around his waist, I lock my hands behind his back. He carries me over and pushes me up against the wall, kissing me with a fire and intensity that makes my heart stutter.

Reaching down, he guides his cock into my dripping wet opening, slipping it between my lips with ease. He pushes himself forward, driving his cock into me as I gasp. I lean forward and nip his shoulder to keep quiet. He draws in a sharp breath when I bite him, but continues thrusting his hips, pounding his prick into me relentlessly.

“Fuck me, Milo,” I say, my voice breathy. “Fuck yes, baby. Fuck me hard.”

Milo increases his speed, driving his stiff rod into me even harder and faster than before. The rhythm of our bodies is steady, and he is so strong, so powerful. He sets my body and soul on fire. I turn my head and watch the picture frame on the wall next to me bounce along with his movements.

Milo kisses me, licks my neck, and keeps thrusting his stiff prick into me, over and over again.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans in my ear. “I'll never get tired of fucking you.”

“I hope not,” I gasp. “I really hope not.”

Milo carries me over to the bed and sets me down on my feet. Grabbing me roughly around the waist, he turns me around and bends me over. I look back over my shoulder at him, biting my bottom lip.

“Too bad we're not at the gazebo,” I say.

“Don't think that we won't be heading out there sometime soon,” he smiles.

I crawl up onto the bed, on my hands and knees, arching my back and baring my ass for Milo. He steps forward and reaches down, drawing a shuddering sigh from me as he rubs my clit. I'm breathing hard as he plays with my pussy and am caught off-guard when his hard rods slide into me.

I gasp, eyes wide, as he fills me up completely. Milo grabs my hair and yanks it hard, driving his rod into me at the same time. The sensations explode and combine within me and another orgasm surprises me. I shudder and shake as bolts of electricity run through my body. Milo drives himself in even deeper and I cry out softly, quickly burying my face in the pillow to avoid being heard.

He pumps his dick into me harder and faster, making my orgasm more intense. I push myself back against him, taking him deeper, moaning quietly as he hits the most sensitive spots inside of me.

“Fuck yes, baby,” I say softly.

The sound of flesh meeting flesh hits my ears a second before I register the stinging sensation on my ass. Milo pops me again and I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out.

“Are you a bad girl?” he asks, his voice tight.

“I'm a bad girl,” I say. “A very, very bad girl.”

He smacks my ass again and the twin feelings of pain and pleasure rock my body. I call his name and feel my body tightening as my pussy pulses and throbs around his cock. Milo drives himself into me again and again, impaling me, setting my entire body on fire with pleasure.

He pulls my hair harder, driving his dick in even deeper and I feel his body trembling. He has to be close. He slows his rhythm down, trying to stave it off, but I want it. I want to feel him explode inside of me.

“Give it to me,” I moan. “I want to feel you come inside of me, Milo. Come for me.”

He groans and lowers his head, gritting his teeth. He slides his cock into me slower than before, but deeper, not ready to give me what I desire just yet.

“Come for me, Milo.”

He slaps my ass again, but his rhythm falters and he gasps. I push myself against him, tightening my inner muscles around his cock. He gasps, and I see a look of absolute bliss on his face.

“Come for me, baby,” I purr. “Give it to me. I want you to fill me up, Milo.”

He drives himself into me one last time as I feel his entire body shudder. A sound, more animal than human, escapes his throat and he draws in a long, shuddering breath. Gripping my hair tightly, his other hand presses into the flesh of my ass.

“I – I'm coming, baby,” he moans.

Not even a second later, I feel his cock start to throb as he bursts inside of me. I feel the flood of warmth as he blows his load inside of me, filling me up with his sweet, sticky cum, making me gasp.

I draw in a sharp breath as yet another orgasm washes over me. I call out his name, both of us riding out the waves of pleasure together. We remain where we are for now, savoring the afterglow together.

Our bodies melding together, two becoming one. I feel Milo’s pain. His grief. And I take it all into me. With so much death in his life, he needs this life-affirming act. Needs to feel that life is not only pain and sadness. That it can be joyous and blissful. That happiness is there for the taking. All he needs to do is reach out and take it.

Eventually, our breathing slows, and I feel his cock deflate and then slip out of me, a small amount of cum slipping down my thighs. He collapses onto the bed, flat on his back, and I cuddle next to him, laying my head on his thick chest.

“A girl could really get used to being fucked like that.”

He gives me that cocky grin I’ve come to love so much. “You should get used to it,” he says. “It's only going to get better from here.”

“Think so?”

“Know so.”

“You've always been a cocky bastard.”

“It's not cocky if I can back it up,” he says and smiles.

“This is true,” I say, my head still spinning from sex. “And you back it up quite well.”

“As do you,” he says. “As do you.”

We lay there in companionable silence for a long time. I listen to the sound of his heart beating in his chest and smile. Two weeks ago, I never could have predicted that I'd be here – in my bed, at my family home – with Milo. And with the blessing of my folks, no less.

The truce is uneasy, I know. I'm just hoping it holds. That we can build upon it and build bridges with his family too. More than anything, I want Owen to have a big family of people who love him. I'm hopeful that we'll eventually get there. Everything is so different than it was two weeks ago. At least now, there's actual hope.