by Autumn Grey
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I told her I’d tie her to the bed if it comes to that.”
I laugh and ask, “What did she say?”
This time his huge-ass shoulders shake with laughter. “She’d kick my ass before I even had a chance to tie her.” We fall silent for a few seconds, staring out into the field just in time to see the batter, a scrawny boy around Matthew’s age, hit the ball and send it flying across the field. Matthew, playing center field, runs as fast as his small legs can carry him. Just as he’s about to catch the ball, the two boys playing right and left field dash toward him aiming for the ball, too, and they all collide, rolling around on the grass.
Chaos erupts, and at some point, the coach looks like he’s about to cry.
“Your sister is quite a handful. But one look from my mother is enough to set her straight,” Bennett says with a soft laugh.
“Good,” I say, relieved. I know Izzy; she has always been stubborn.
She needs someone who will not let her get away with a lot. Gladys, Bennett’s mother, is the right person for this job. Mine would just let my sister do almost anything as soon as she bats those baby blues at her.
“I wouldn’t trade her for anything though,” he adds, pointing at the field, and we watch his spawn dusting his pants while scowling at his teammates. “She gave me the world. She gave me life.”
“If you traded her, I’d kill you.” He turns to face me, probably gauging how serious I am. Whatever he sees on my face has him raising up his hands, palms facing me as if in surrender. “Besides, after what you two put me through while dating and after getting married, I’d lock you both in a room until you sorted out whatever shit was going on, making sure you stayed true to your vows.”
“I knew there was a reason I love you,” he teases. “Such a romantic.”
I shake my head and chuckle under my breath.
I love Izzy and Bennett, but Jesus. These two give a whole new meaning to love and marriage. But they gave me a nephew and a niece, so I forgive them for the headaches.
I have always wanted children. I’ve dreamed about having enough kids to fill a soccer field.
That being said, as much as I’d love to see my woman barefoot and pregnant, I’d also respect her wish if she wanted to work.
“Camille never wanted kids, you know,” I say quietly, remembering how many times we argued about it.
“Don’t look back, Nate.” Bennett says. “Focus on now. The present. Otherwise you’ll always be trapped by your past.”
He’s right, and I know that. I have no idea why I brought it up. Maybe because after the last few weeks, something has changed in me. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel hopeful.
Elon makes me feel alive. And from what I have seen so far, she has a stubborn streak in her and enjoys a good challenge.
I feel my lips pull upward in a smile, remembering the loud snores and waking up to find her cute ass pointing at the ceiling.
“You are weirding me out, man,” Bennett says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “What is going on with you?”
I school my features to unreadable before facing him.
“I’ll be damned,” he mutters under his breath in fascination. “Let me guess: Cello Girl?”
I’m about to snarl at him, let him know she has a name, but I change my mind because it’d only make him more interested. Right now, I need him off my ass.
My gaze snaps to his and I frown.
Nosy bastard.
“Back off, Ben.”
Laughter booms out of his mouth as he slaps my shoulder, sending pain shooting down my arm.
“Fucking hell, Bennett,” I grit the words, my eyes watering.
“Shit.” He scoots away quickly, turning to face me. “I’m sorry.”
I pull out the plastic bottle from my jacket pocket and toss a pill into my mouth, then grab the bottle of water he’s holding out in my direction. “Just keep those large paws to yourself, Goliath.”
I close my eyes and wait for the pain to pass.
“Has Dr. Rosenburg contacted you yet?” Bennett asks quietly.
I nod, remembering the email I was reading last night before Elon joined me on the balcony. “He wants me to fly to Chicago for some tests.” In the past three years, I’ve been through several tests and undergone two surgeries. I never wanted to see the inside of a hospital again after that. “He’s proposing a different kind of surgery now. Tendon transfer to restore muscle function, and hopefully fix the injured nerve in my bicep.”
I blow out a long breath, open my eyes and watch his as they shift to my right arm, then back to my face. “Tendon transfer?”
I didn’t really understand the mechanics of the whole procedure while I was reading the email, given that I was a little high from the weed. So I say, “He’ll explain everything when I get there.”
“When do you leave?”
“He’ll be out of the country for at least three weeks, so probably at the end of February.”
Bennett looks at me with sympathy in his eyes.
I grimace. “I hate it when you look at me like that, Ben.”
He licks his lips, the look replaced by a wicked glint in his eye. “So, have you proposed to her yet?”
“Proposed to whom?”
He laughs. “Her. Cello Girl.” He narrows his eyes. “If I remember correctly, you have a habit of proposing to women—”
“Oh fuck off.” I roll my eyes. “I’ve proposed to only one woman in my life. And she turned me down every single year.”
Until three years ago when she was taken away from me.
The memory of proposing to Camille on the same day we first met in Rushmore and then consequently every year after that makes me smile but at the same time forms a lump in my throat.
The laughter in his face fades, his brows dipping a little. “Nothing is stopping you from having that again. Sometimes—”
“Daddy! Daddy!” Matthew’s shout interrupts Bennett, and we turn our attention to the field.
Baseball practice seems to be over.
“Did you see me catch the ball?”
Bennett unfolds his bulky frame from the seat and grins wide, arms outstretched as his son runs toward him. Matthew doesn’t even wait for his father to answer his question. He hops into Ben’s arms and excitedly talks about the game while his father tells him that he saw everything.
“Acting is not for you, my friend. Stick to running Reed’s Lounge,” I say loud enough for my words to reach Bennett as we walk out of the sports center, heading to his car. Matthew hops inside the passenger seat as soon as his father opens the door.
He smirks and says, “Look at you making jokes. You should get laid more often.” He slides inside his truck and slams the door in my face before I can form a rebuttal, leaving me glaring after him.
I’m about to turn around and walk to my car when I see Elon marching across the parking lot, carrying a plastic bag in one hand. At the same time, she lifts her head in my direction. Her steps falter before halting altogether.
“Hey,” I greet, my feet finally finding the strength to walk. “What are you doing here?”
She smiles, and I shove my balled fists inside my pants pockets to stop them from reaching out. Touching her.
“I’m done for the day—” she points at Studio 22 on her right, and I notice her eyes do a quick sweep of our surroundings, as if checking if we are being watched. “So I went to buy some yarn for Joce from the shop over there,” she says in that soft voice that sends blood straight to my groin, and she points to some shops behind her. But I’m too busy being sucked in to those eyes of hers. “My niece enjoys knitting. School project. I help her whenever—”
“Relax, Elon,” I say in a low voice, cutting her off.
The sound of a car door opening and slamming shut reminds me my nosy brother-in-law hasn’t driven off.
Footsteps thump closer, then, “Hey Nate, I forgot to ask you—” stops, then, “Oh, hi there. I’m
Bennett Reed. His brother-in-law.” He jerks his thumb at me, side-eyeing me while smirking. “And you are. . .”
Elon’s smile widens. “Elon Blake.” And then she innocently adds, “I saw Professor Rowe standing here and thought I’d say hi.”
“You’re his student, huh?” Bennett asks, his voice laced with curiosity.
She nods, looking from me to Bennett. “Anyway, I’d better get going if I want to make it to Willow Hill before nightfall.”
She says goodbye and walks past me in the direction where I assume her car is parked. As much as I want to turn and stare at her, I can’t. Not with Bennett standing beside me, vibrating with questions.
He rounds on me, eyebrows raised. “The fuck, Nate? Your student?”
“You’ve lost your mind if you think I’d mess around—”
“Your face lit up like fireworks when you saw her. Have you already fucked her?”
Those words sound crass coming from his mouth, rubbing me the wrong way. I pull my clenched fist out of my pocket, ready to slam it into his face. He seems to notice my stance. His eyes widen, and he takes two steps back.
“Daddy you said a bad word,” Matthew’s voice interrupts the staredown, and his little face appears behind his dad’s legs. “Grandma Gladys says it’s a bad word, and if I ever say it again, she’ll wash my mouth with soap and pray for me.”
Bennett groans and looks down at his son. “Let’s make a deal, buddy. You don’t tell Grandma Gladys, and I’ll get you the Pokémon game you wanted. Deal?” He holds out his hand to Matthew, who stares at it for a few seconds before nodding quickly.
“You’re worse than my mother,” I tell Bennett as I ruffle my nephew’s hair and turn to leave.
“We need to talk about this, Nate.”
I pause long enough to scowl at him and say, “No. We don’t. Forget this happened.”
I continue walking, his laughter following me to my car, and by the time I slide inside the driver’s seat, my jaw is clenched so tight that I feel a migraine forming.
I CLOSE THE BOOK THAT I’ve been reading to Josh the past thirty minutes, place it on my lap and cover his cool hand with mine. I take in his relaxed features as he sleeps; the dark circles under his eyes, bald head, gaunt face and pale skin. I blink a few times to keep the tears at bay.
We are not ready to lose you, Josh.
I wish there was a way to make you better. Fucking cancer and its greedy tentacles.
“Is everything okay, Elon?” Nor asks without pausing from whatever she’s working on in the sketchbook propped on her knees.
Her question throws me off and sends my heart racing. I roll my eyes. Every time someone stares at me for more than three seconds, I start hyperventilating, wondering if they know I slept with my professor. Seriously, I need to get my act together.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You just seem distracted. Is everything going well with the new professor?”
Poker face, Elon, I remind myself.
“Everything’s peachy,” I gush. She studies me while biting the end of her pencil. “How’s your drawing coming along?” I point at the sketchbook, hoping to change the subject. “You should totally publish them as coloring books.”
Nor has been doodling for as long as I can remember, which is like therapy for her, just like reading is for me. Drawing helps her escape into another world that she creates using pen and paper.
She frowns at me, but seems to let it slide when she looks down at what she’s currently working on. “I don’t know if I want to. I’ve never thought about it before.”
I set the book on the nightstand, stand up from my seat and crawl up next to her on the cot that has become a permanent fixture in this room. I study the drawing, the word Courage flanked with hearts and flowers doodles stands out in all its magnificent beauty.
I bump her shoulder with mine and smile. “It might be a way to share your gift with the world.”
She sighs, her eyes on the drawing. “I’ll think about it.”
The door opens and Nick strides in with Cora and Joce, each holding one of his hands. The second our eyes meet, his body tenses and a scowl replaces the huge grin on his face as the tension between us sky rockets.
I exhale a frustrated breath. He still won’t talk to me. I cornered him yesterday when he brought take out to Nor’s house, but all he did was walk away.
“Hey, Nor. Is it okay if I take the girls to the movies?”
“Oh, that would be amazing.” If she notices any weirdness going on between Nick and me, she doesn’t say anything.
I give her a quick hug, then hop down from the cot and slip on my shoes. Five minutes later, I leave the room with my nieces as they debate about which movie we are going to watch.
I arrive for my class on Monday morning with fifty minutes to spare. Things are still a little awkward around Amber, and I have this ever-growing need to tell her everything. Thing is, I’m afraid of what she’ll think of me, my choices. That’s why I’ve been spending most of my time away from the apartment and coming in to class much earlier than usual.
But the main reason I’m here before class begins is to have my fill of Nate before everyone else steals his attention. I missed him badly. And after the weekend I’d had in Willow Hill, I just wanted to see him.
Seeing Nick and not being able to talk to him because he ignored me most of the time and only spoke to me when necessary sucked big time.
After grabbing my cello from the backseat, I lock my car and head for Brown Hall. I’m smiling at the thought of seeing Nate when my stomach twists suddenly and the hair on the nape of my neck rises as the feeling of being watched heats my skin.
I stop and turn around, scanning the parking lot. Given that classes haven’t started yet, there are not many cars parked.
A white truck pulls into a spot next to some bushes to my right, and seconds later, a man dressed in black hops out and briskly walks toward Sebastian Hall.
Taking a deep breath to slow my racing pulse, I scan my surroundings again, then pick up my pace, unable to shake the feeling of being watched.
Right before I walk inside the classroom, I see Nate standing a few meters away, talking to Bennett, and I completely forget the uneasiness I felt a few minutes ago.
Holy shit.
Bennett is huge, easily four inches taller than Nate, who himself is six feet of lean muscle. If it weren’t for Bennett’s friendly smile and handsome features, I’d be running in the other direction.
I take a moment to study him.
Dressed in grey pants and a long-sleeved, button-down shirt, he looks amazing. Even the tattoos peeking out from the collar don’t do anything to tarnish his striking looks.
Standing side by side, Nate and Bennett are the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen. They shouldn’t be allowed in the same room. There’s just too much maleness surrounding them, which could cause spontaneous combustion to the entire female population.
What is Bennett doing here so early in the morning?
As if sensing me, Nate’s eyes snap up in my direction. Heat flashes through them before quickly shifting to an indecipherable cursory glance that weighs nothing other than disinterest and boredom. My heart drops to my stomach. Bennett, on the other hand, waves his hand in my direction in greeting, a wide grin on his face, white against his mocha skin. That is, until Nate says something in a low voice, causing Bennett’s smile to vanish quickly.
What crawled up my professor’s ass this morning?
The thought of turning and heading back the way I came crosses my mind. But instead of doing that, I walk inside the room, set my cello and bag next to my desk and take my usual seat, then wait for Sir Scowl-A-Lot slash my lover slash my boss.
He doesn’t disappoint.
He enters the class in long, purposeful strides, his presence filling the room, sending tingles down my spine. His scent reminds me of Friday night and Saturday morning.
My thighs clench, my breathing comes out a little fast
.
He’s back to his brooding self and doesn’t even spare me a glance. I have to remind myself this is the same man who fucked me like his world was ending and beginning at the same time, then made love to me like he was making up for lost chances.
I’ve gotten to know the other side of him: the passionate side that makes me want more of him.
And damn it, I want to crack that impenetrable armor he’s wearing right now. “Hey.”
He’s standing with his ass propped against his desk, his legs crossed at the ankles. “Hey.”
“About Friday,” I start to say and pause when his eyes narrow at me.
“Elon.” My name is a warning on his lips, his tone sending shivers down my spine. He tilts his head to the side toward the door as if he’s listening for something, before turning his attention back on me.
“About Friday. . .” I repeat, stressing the last word.
His gaze sharpens on me, and my words trail off as he strokes his lower lip with the index finger. “Yes?”
“I want more of that,” I lower my chin, staring at him through my lashes. “With you.” Something about Nate makes me brave. He makes me want to explore that adventurous part of me I’ve hidden for so long.
His expression shatters, his flinty eyes turning dark and smoldering. He seems to be holding himself back though.
“This is dangerous, Miss Blake.” His voice travels across the space between us in a low, seductive rumble. “We could get caught. We both know how it would end for both of us.”
I frown, wondering what happened between Saturday and today.
I clear my throat and lift my chin. “We’ll be careful. I just—” I stop in order to collect my thoughts. I’m about to lay it all out there, risk being rejected. “After, you know, um—” I glance at the door quickly, then say, “the horizontal tango—”
He lets out an honest to God laugh, shoulders shaking, eyes alight with mirth.
“Horizontal tango?”
“Yeah.” I smile, enjoying seeing him like this. Happy.
“I remember us being more than horizontal. In fact, we vertical fuc—”
