by Enders, KC
I match his smile and nod.
Jake thrusts his hand toward me to shake and says, “Welcome to the family.”
I shake his hand, ignoring his clamminess from wiping away snot, proud of the way he’s handled something a kid should never have to hear about.
* * *
“So, is there something special you two do for Father’s Day?” I ask.
With a quick, shrill whistle, Bronson trots across the yard and into the house, splaying out on the AC vent in the corner of the kitchen.
“What do you mean?” Chloe lifts the dishwasher door with her heel and bumps it shut. “I thought you were cool with going to my parents’.”
“I am. Just … do you do something special to honor Dallas?” I’ve worked hard over the past couple of weeks, proving myself to Jake, building trust, and earning his respect again. “I don’t want to be in the way, so I can just cut out for a bit, let you guys do your thing, and then swing back when you’re ready to go.”
Chloe folds the dish towel, neatly tucking it in the laundry room. She stands with a hip resting against the counter, arms folded across her chest, pushing her boobs together. “Before we moved, we’d go visit Dallas’s grave, and then, we’d hang out with his parents for the rest of the day. Nothing we can really replicate here.” Sadness flashes in her eyes before she covers it with a smile. “What about you? I should have asked before now, but is there something special you do?”
We still tiptoe around discussions of Aly and my daughter—mostly Aly. Chloe is hugely supportive of me when I talk about them, but it’s never an easy discussion. For any of us.
“I’ll talk to my dad at some point, but I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”
She seems to think about that, her brows pulling together, but the subject dies right there for the night.
* * *
In the morning, after a quick detour for doughnuts and coffee and a chocolate milk, we make the drive out into the country. Chloe’s parents live in a big house on a good-sized chunk of land.
“Uncle Brent and Uncle Drew are going to be there, right?” Jake asks from the backseat.
“Yep.” Chloe smirks at me from the passenger seat.
While her parents seem to like me just fine, she’s hinted at the fact that her older brothers can be kind of brutal.
“And Uncle Jack won’t, right? Did we send him a card?”
“We?” Chloe glances in the backseat and laughs at Jake’s shocked expression. “Yes, we sent Jack a card and Grandpa Triplett, too. I covered all your bases for you.”
“Almost all of them,” Jake mumbles under his breath, leaning forward and most likely thinking only Chloe can hear him.
The rest of the drive is quiet, uneventful, but with aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents, chaos fills our day.
Over grilled burgers and more salads and desserts than a group our size needs, gifts are handed out.
Chloe’s big, bad brothers might think they’re tough. But when Brent puts on the pink construction-paper tie with unicorn stickers decorating it, his street cred dies a painful death.
“Don’t you look pretty?” Drew drawls, winking at his brother.
Brent smooths down his paper tie, nodding at the play makeup set Drew just unwrapped. “Prettier than you’ll be, even after your makeover.”
A tiny version of Drew’s wife climbs up onto his lap, digging into the makeup crap and swiping pink and blue powder across his face. It hits me that she’s about the age my daughter would be. I allow myself just a moment to imagine her playing dress-up with me, and I smile.
“Don’t laugh, man. She’s been eyeing your beard since you got here, and I’ve got some bows in my princess kit here,” Drew razzes me.
“That’s a hard pass,” I say.
Jake leans over to Chloe and whispers, his hand cupped around his mouth. She nods, and he bounces from his seat and trots over to the tote bag she tucked under the small table by the door. He hands Chloe’s dad a card and then hands me a royal-blue gift bag, bright red tissue sticking out the top.
“Happy Father’s Day,” he says, cheeks turning red as everyone watches.
“What’s this?” I ask, looking from Jake to Chloe and back.
“It’s just … nothing. I thought …”
I pluck the tissue from the bag and pull out a blue compression shirt, a red Superman symbol on the chest. “Thanks, Jake.” I unfold the shirt, and a keychain in the shape of a green ’52 Chevy pickup clatters to the table. “And you got something for Maggie, too. Thank you.”
I pull him in for a hug, giving him an extra squeeze and then a pat on the shoulder. Jake nods, red creeping higher on his cheeks as he shuffles off into the house.
My throat tightens with emotion, and Chloe reaches over, threading her fingers through mine.
* * *
We get home late enough that Jake climbs straight up the stairs and into the shower.
“Thank you for today,” I say, wrapping my arms around Chloe from behind. With my nose, I push her loose strands of hair to the side and place a kiss to the nape of her neck. Goose bumps pop up, dotting the skin across her shoulders. “The shirt and keychain were perfect.”
Chloe turns in my arms, twisting her fingers in the hair at the back of my head. She scrapes her nails down my neck, causing my skin to tighten, the same as hers. “That was all Jake. He thought them up and picked them out. I just played secretary and did the ordering.”
“Well, shit.”
“Exactly. Puts you in a pretty elite club. I think that’s the only Father’s Day gift he’s even had any input on.”
Chloe slides her hands around to my neck, scraping her nails through my beard. I should probably make a point to trim it soon. It’s getting a bit unruly.
My dick stirs as she dances her fingers across my shoulders and down my pecs, circling my nipples.
“You got a little something for me, too?” I palm her ass and press her tight into my hips, blood flooding south.
As much as I love spending time with her family, I would give my right nut to sneak Chloe out to the beach house one of the guys at work has and bury myself in her for a solid week, no interruptions.
“I do. A couple of things actually,” Chloe says, pinching my left nipple.
My dick is well beyond stirring and fucking begging for her after that. She runs a hand over the front of my shorts, giving me a playful squeeze before sauntering away from me.
I follow her up the stairs, admiring the sultry sway of her hips. In the bedroom, she rummages around in the closet for a hot minute before returning to me. Her tits sway alluringly, free from the bra she obviously took a few magical seconds to shed while she was in there, a square box resting in her palms.
“What’s this?” I ask, taking the footlong square box from her, though honestly, I’d rather finish unwrapping her than get to whatever’s in this box.
“Remember that surprise I borrowed Maggie for on Mother’s Day weekend?” She taps the top of the box a couple of times with her finger and bites her lip.
“I do. Guess with Jake spilling about our adventures that day, I forgot all about it.” I resist the temptation to shred the box, instead slipping my fingers into the cardboard to pry it open.
My breath leaves in a rush.
“Sweet baby Jesus, woman, what have you done?” I lift an image of Chloe set in a simple black frame from the box. Full pinup. Glossy black waves. Ruby-red lips. Tight skirt, white blouse flashing a hint of red lace, fuck-me shoes to match, and goddamn seams up the backs of her hose.
I can barely form words.
“There’s more,” she says, her voice husky with desire.
I dig through the box, pulling two more frames out—same outfit, different poses. All fucking knockouts.
“The album has a few more.”
I don’t even look. Because I have the real thing, in the flesh, here to touch, taste, and love any damn time I want, just as long as she says yes.
<
br /> I fully planned to do the whole thing—dress up, dinner, drop to my knee after a million pretty words, and ask her to be my wife. But I don’t want to wait. I reach in my pocket, slip the ring from the black velvet box, and slide it onto her finger.
“As beautiful as I’m sure every one of those pictures is, I won’t be able to appreciate the artistry behind them right now. I love you, Chloe. I don’t want to think of what my life would be like without you. Marry me. Make me the happiest man on earth.”
“Yes,” just barely breaches her lips before my mouth crashes into hers.
Epilogue
Twelve Years Later
Ensign Jacob Wyatt Triplett
Graduate, United States Naval Academy
Annapolis, Maryland
It doesn’t take long for me to find my family in the crowd. All of them and then some. Mom and Miles are the first ones I see—two of my little sisters tucked in tight between them, I’m sure. Gramps and Nonna smile and chat with Grandma and Grandpa Triplett. Well, mostly, Nonna does the smiling and chatting. Gramps is standing tall, proud as fuck after witnessing his only grandson graduate from a service academy.
That’s the limit of my seating allotment for the ceremony. It’s actually over, but I wouldn’t put it past Miles to smuggle the littlest of my sisters in.
I owe him.
Big.
The lessons I learned from him on life, love, and what it means to be a man are what got me here. Not just here as in my appointment to and graduation from the naval academy, but here as in who I am.
I glance toward the sky, the sun strong on my face, and say a silent thanks to my dad. He’d be proud as fuck too, though I have no doubt that since his blood ran army green, he’d give me hell for choosing the navy.
And like my dad is sitting on a cloud in heaven, dropping people where he wants them for maximum personal entertainment, Uncle Jack’s gruff voice sounds behind me. “Jesus Christ, the last place I ever thought I’d piss away a perfectly good Saturday in May is surrounded by a bunch of newly minted ensigns.”
I spin on my heel and nod crisply. “Sir. Aunt Kate. Thank you for being here today. It means the world to me.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re old enough for this.” Aunt Kate pulls me into an over-the-top hug, and I stiffen, trying uselessly to pull away.
“Jake’s still on a short leash until he’s out of uniform, Kate. Don’t get him reprimanded the minute he graduates. Give him a minute.” Uncle Jack looks around and nods to where my mom is struggling to make her way through the throng of people without losing everybody. “Besides, he’s probably got a much younger model than you he’d rather get in trouble for.”
I huff out a laugh. “No, sir, I do not.”
I could have a girl. In fact, I’ve had several. The uniform is like catnip, and pussy tends to be ripe for the taking. But that’s not a conversation I plan on having with them.
“Will you be joining us for lunch?” I ask. Anything to direct the subject away from my love life.
Uncle Jack nods and glances behind him, a huge grin sliding across his face. “Absolutely. Now that the stragglers have decided to show up. You find what you need, sugar?”
He reaches past Aunt Kate and wraps his arm around his daughter, protectively pulling her into his side. And it’s a damn good thing he does because, at seventeen, Hays Margaret Jackson is most definitely the younger, hotter—much hotter—version of her mother.
For the love of fucks, when did that happen?
“Hays,” I say, nodding my head. “Mason. Dix,” I greet her older brothers with a handshake. “Where are the littles?”
“Hotel pool with Mom’s parents. Dad could only sneak so many of us in,” Mason replies.
Hays smiles, her big brown eyes taking in the sea of crisp navy-and-white uniforms around her. “Hey.”
My family and all the grands finally make it down onto the field and fall into easy conversation, catching up and relaying plans. And I just want to get out of my hot uniform and suck down a beer with a lunch not from the mess hall.
A hard slap lands on my shoulder, and Ben Levy—my roommate for my final semester—slides into our not-so-little circle.
“Ben, congratulations, sweetie,” Mom says. “Were your parents able to make it back stateside?”
For all four years, Ben’s parents were stationed overseas. With us two being close and Mom and Miles being who they are, Ben has spent a decent amount of time with my family. Holidays, breaks. Football games. He just fits right in.
“No, ma’am. They were delayed leaving and won’t be in until sometime tomorrow,” he says.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Join us for lunch.” She relays the plans and then turns her attention to Aunt Kate and Hays, making a big thing over how much Hays has changed since she saw her last.
She’s not wrong. I think the last time I saw Hays was the Christmas before I graduated high school. She was skinny and awkward, her nose stuck in a book, her smile glinting with metal.
“Who’s that?” Ben asks under his breath. “Jesus, she is fine.”
I follow his line of sight and bristle when I see he’s homed in on Hays. Her tits actually—and those for sure were not at all a thing the last time I saw her.
“Back off, dickless,” I growl.
Ben raises his brows, his smirk firmly in place as he checks her out from head to toe.
Mason notices and squares his shoulders, unmistakable military bearing in his stance.
“You laying claim? Gonna tap that round ass to celebrate being done with this shit for a while?” Ben is not nearly as quiet or subtle as he thinks he is, and both Mason and Dixon bristle at the way he’s talking about their sister. Their baby sister.
I turn Ben, guiding him far enough away for our conversation to remain private. “Seriously, lay off. She’s seventeen, not even legal, and we’re practically family. She’s like a sister to me.” The words don’t feel right in my mouth.
I mean, I’ve known Hays her entire life. Saw her every year, at least once a year, until I started at USNA. But she has changed.
“Sister, huh?” Ben mumbles. “Stepsister maybe.”
It doesn’t even register that I’ve moved until my fist connects with his jaw.
Hays may not be mine, but I won’t let anyone talk about her like that.
Stay tuned …
Rules Of Being A Gentleman
Say Please & Thank you
Work hard
Mind your manners
Don’t curse
Offer a lady your seat
Extend a firm handshake
Keep your word
Respect your elders
Always make eye contact
Be punctual
Open doors for others
Stay well groomed
Stand up straight
Shy away from gossip
Read books often
The Salvation Society
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Affinity by Harlow Layne
Broken by KC Enders
Embrace by Michelle Fernandez
Treasured by Victoria Pinder
Unwritten by Jenna Hartley
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Inspirational Music
Playlist
Rock Bottom - Grandson
Lie – NF
Broken – The People’s Thieves
The Jester – Badflower
I Fall Apart – Post Malone
Die Young – MRKTS
Just Breathe – Pearl Jam
Die
Like This – Mourners
Unconditional – Matt Maeson
Grace – Lewis Capaldi
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my dear sweet husband who has been behind me on this project in a way that I struggle to put into words. After years of military service, it took a civilian job to put us through our longest separation from each other, and I am so happy to be back in the same town with you again! Talking plot, walking the dogs with me when I get stuck. Ordering food and swinging by the liquor store, you’ve kept me going.
Thank you to Corinne Michaels for this amazing opportunity. I hope I’ve done your world justice.
To Jane Ashley Converse for talking me into sending in a submission for the Salvation Society. Also…if you want more of Miles’s friend Chance Robinson, keep an eye out for her book titled Heartless. I am honored to introduce you to her character here. And honestly, there is no one better to tell his story. Get ready.
To Dee Hays for patting my head, kicking my butt, making me laugh, and sending the best encouragement my way. This couldn’t have happened without you.
To Jennifer Rebecca for the plot twist that made me gasp and shake in my shoes.
To my dear friend Mel for keeping me in line, for urging me to write when the world was falling down around us, for being crazy busy in her own life and still—still—making time for me. To talk. To whine. To drink whiskey. And to be brutally honest about what was working and what needed help and what just needed to go. Cheers.
And finally, to the people of Total Wine. This book was written from the guest bedroom of my new-to-me-but-very-old house, during a full kitchen renovation that came to a standstill due to the pandemic shutdown. It was an adventure.
