by Cara Dee
He tests a smile and looks away.
Gabriella was right all along, dammit. He needs to get his ass back to San Francisco so we can make sure he gets better. It has to be us. I don’t trust anyone else to get it done. More than that, I want it to be us.
"For the record, you don’t belong in Texas," I tell him. "Now, finish your breakfast. Don’t think I can't see you've lost weight."
"Yes, Sir." The eye contact remains a struggle for him, but at least the smile is still there.
Progress, right?
Chapter 10
"He's late, Daddy. He's late!" Gabriella paces the open space between the bed and the kitchen table and keeps checking the time. "Ugh, we should've picked him up at the airport."
Agreed, but I had to let Dylan win one fight. He won't be winning any others while he's here. With that in mind, I relented after twenty minutes of bitching, him stating he didn’t want to be coddled and treated like a disabled person because of a pair of crutches, and me stating he was full of shit.
I've had a few days to process everything now, and the past doesn’t matter anymore 'cause it doesn’t change that I wanna be there for Dylan. That’s what it boils down to. Despite the bitterness, despite the hurt, despite the tension. I care more than I can describe, and that means I have several fights to win to ensure he returns to San Francisco—if not indefinitely, then at least on an extended vacation. Or whatever term to use for a month or five.
I check my watch, and yeah, he should be here by now.
Food's ready, Gabriella's planned a movie night, and the sleeping arrangements have been taken care of—kind of. She turned my bed into a fort this morning, and I reckon they will fall asleep there after the movies. It's a California King, so I know I'll fit too, though I might bring out a spare mattress. We'll see how I feel. Either way, it's not a big issue.
"I hear a car!" Gabriella rushes toward the kitchen window to peer down the street. "It's him!"
I inhale deeply, nervous, and follow her downstairs.
My girl's excited. "I can't wait to see everyone's faces when he shows up at Switch this weekend."
Ah, yes. She wants it to be a surprise. No one knows he's back.
Gabriella swings the door open as Dylan's getting out of the cab. I pick up the pace to pay the driver and then help the stubborn boy, whom Gabriella's hugging the hell out of.
"I'll get that." I shoulder his bag and hand him his crutches. "Good to see you, kid." Understatement.
Mother of Christ, I miss him. God. I miss him. The thought voices itself unbidden, and the guilt trails after. I miss him too much.
He smiles anxiously. "You, too. I almost backed out."
"I'm not surprised."
"I would've kicked your butt so hard," Gabriella huffs. "Come on, let's get our awesome evening started! I made lasagna."
She races ahead to hold the door for us, and I walk beside Dylan.
"I thought she sucked at cooking," he mumbles.
"She's…learning." I chuckle. "Her lasagna's stellar, though."
On the way to the stairs, I side-eye him for signs of…well, anything. The cast isn't very thick, but thick enough so his jeans won't fit, hence the switch to wearing sweats twenty-four seven. A beanie covers most of his messy hair. I think the shadows under his eyes have faded slightly. The cuts and scrapes from the accident are gone, thankfully. Leaving only a small scar above his left eyebrow.
When we reach the stairs, I cup his elbow so I can help him up the narrow steps.
"Can't wait to get rid of the crutches." He grunts, climbing another step.
"Know when that'll be?" I ask.
"They're fitting me for a brace next week." He takes a break halfway up. "I'll have one crutch after that until I don’t need it anymore."
By the time we reach the landing, he's winded. I guide him over to the foot of the bed—or fort—so he can sit down. I drop his bag on the floor.
He looks up at the blankets thrown across and over the four posts of the frame and smiles tiredly. On the inside of Gabriella's creation, string lights circle each post to make it, using her words, supercozy.
"Movie night, huh?" He looks over at where Gabriella's bringing the lasagna outta the oven. "Did she pick all the movies?"
"You bet." I smirk.
I remember the feeling of having Gabriella, for all intents and purposes, move in with me so I could look after her. I remember it felt good. And this is no different. Having Dylan nearby feels right, and I won't shy away from using my Dom card to get my way.
"I'm glad you came," I murmur.
"Really?" He pulls off his beanie and fidgets with it on his lap.
"Really."
"Me, too," he admits so quietly I almost miss it. "I always liked your place."
"I remember." We've had some good times here. Unforgettable times. "Are you hungry, or do you wanna rest?"
He snorts. "I wanna be spoon-fed while I doze off."
I grin, unable to take my eyes off him. "That can be arranged, so watch what you say."
"Oh—" He flushes and laughs, the sound strained by memories taking him back. I see it. We shared too much. I've fed him before, as a playful punishment.
"Dinner's ready!" Gabriella sings.
I hold out my hand. "Come on, cripple."
That earns me a scowl, though he takes my hand and uses me to pull himself off the bed.
Gabriella and Dylan sit down across from each other, and I take my seat at the head of the table. The princess is wearing a permanent smile, one she's been sporting all week because of today, and Dylan's eye-fucking the lasagna, the garlic bread, and the rabbit food.
My gut's tied in knots, and it's a strange feeling, 'cause it's not entirely unpleasant. There's hope. Hope that this is a good thing, that it'll lead to something better.
"Dig in, kids." I help myself to a full plate and let them do the talking while I observe and probably overthink. Thinking less about the past, my mind has begun spinning with focus on the future instead.
I don’t know what any of this means or how long this unfamiliar but decent feeling will last. I guess that’s how it is when you have a lot to lose—or when your body is a time bomb waiting to go off. I feel it in my bones that I'll either explode or implode soon.
"This is so good." Dylan speaks with his mouth full of food. "The upside of not having a career in sports anymore is I can eat whatever I want."
His joke falls flat, and Gabriella launches into ideas of what he can do and still stay in the same field. Coaching? Become an expert commentator?
Dylan shrugs, reluctant to talk about it. "There's no money in coaching, and there're people far better suited for commentating. I dunno. I'll figure it out eventually, I guess."
"There's no rush," I tell him. "Focus on your recovery and rest."
He nods and picks at his food. "Let's talk about you guys instead." He lifts his gaze to Gabriella. "How's the tattooing business? By the way, I'm waiting for you to say that's a joke."
"Ha. Why? I love it. I mean, not that I've ever done a tattoo. It'll be a while." She adds some more salad to her plate. "Yesterday I was stuck doing inventory all day. And I'm studying techniques a lot."
I point to her nightstand across the room. "You can see the pile of portfolios there. They're her bedtime stories these days."
Dylan laughs quietly. "I don’t know, I wouldn’t go near you if you're holding a tattoo gun."
Gabriella's jaw drops. "What! Why? I'll be a good tattoo artist. Right, Daddy? Tell him!"
"You'd probably ink a dick on my forehead or somethin'." Dylan crosses his eyes when she sticks out her tongue at him.
I chuckle, enjoying watching their banter.
Gabriella juts her chin. "Daddy's letting me design a tattoo for him, so there."
Dylan wags his fork at her. "But he's not letting you hold the machine, is he?"
That makes her smash her lips together and glare.
I laugh under my breath and shovel some lasagna
into my mouth.
Please let this be a good thing. Please let this be a good thing.
I don’t want any more great times ripped away from me, or us.
*
After dinner, Dylan's pain catches up to him. He retreats to the fort for some rest and for his meds to kick in. In the meantime, I help Gabriella clear the table.
With the last of the leftovers wrapped and tucked into the fridge, I come up behind the princess as she does the dishes, and I give her a squeeze.
"Thank you for a delicious dinner, baby." I kiss her neck, my hands traveling from her hips up to her breasts. "Do you know how happy it makes me to see you smiling?"
She tilts her head up and gives me one of those smiles. "You're making my tummy tingle again."
"Fantastic." I dip down and claim her mouth, and I slip a hand under her pajama shorts to cup her pretty little pussy. "The evening's looking good so far, isn't it?"
"Mmhmm." She shivers, dropping a plate back into the water. "I've got my amazing Daddy and my annoying brother back in my life."
It's not the first time she's referred to Dylan as a brother, and before everything went straight to hell, he often joked about Gabriella being the best little sister he never wanted—
Oh, hell.
No, no, no, is that what she wants?
"Dirty little slut," I whisper into the kiss. "I know what you're thinking." And it's impossible to unthink it.
Anxiety mingles with lust, and I slam two fingers deep inside her pussy, torn between wanting to jump into the unknown that terrifies me and…shit, I don’t know, talk it all out? Find out what she wants?
"You want it, too," she gasps.
Confirmation right there. She's got play for the three of us in mind. What I don’t know is how far that goes. Or how I feel about it.
Fucking hell, man, you want it.
"Why do you want it?" I let out a low growl against her neck, finger-fucking her faster. "Tell Daddy everything."
"Because—" She stifles a moan by biting down on her lip. Her eyes close. "Oh my God—because it's us. Us three, never anyone else. When I think about it, it all makes sense."
I swallow a groan and withdraw my fingers from her.
"Cade," she whispers, turning around in my arms. "I know." Her eyes are filled with more than lust. "I know, and it's okay. I know you're struggling with your feelings. I know they run deep—maybe even deeper than you think. I know you want what's best for us, and I know you always put us first." She raises her hands to my neck. "When I first met you, I was friggin' scared. The tats, the piercings, that indecent look in your eyes—heck, your whole body. Then you turned out to be the sweetest man I've had the honor of knowing. You're the first one to help out and offer whatever you can. You shoulder so much responsibility."
I close my eyes and press my forehead to hers.
"It doesn’t have to be difficult." She keeps her voice soft and quiet. "I'm indescribably happy with you, but I can't shake that feeling of unsettlement, and I think you feel the same. We don’t wanna hurt or betray anyone. So it keeps us from going all out."
Her words flow through me, solidifying things that’ve been shaky for months. Confusion and uncertainty morph into yearning for something concrete. Blurry images become clear, and whatever I couldn’t put my finger on before, I now can.
"We deserve a break," she murmurs. "We owe it to ourselves at least to try, and we shouldn’t feel guilty about it."
I think she's saving me from that implosion.
"Try…" Spell it out for me, princess.
"To become something—the three of us. I want it, Cade. I have all these feelings, too."
I almost fucking break at those words. Instead, I cup her face and kiss her as if I'm kissing her for the first time. As if I'm seeing her for the first time, ironically, while having my eyes closed. And, in a way, it is a first. A first with a new perspective and a better grasp of what I'm feeling.
"I want to be your little girl forever," she mumbles against my lips. "I want to let it all go because I trust you."
"Jesus," I whisper hoarsely. "I have no words, Gabriella." I'm screwed where this girl is concerned. Falling, falling, falling…like a motherfucker. My heart pounds furiously. "I need to make sure I got this right. You feel more for Dylan?"
She falters, as if hesitant, then nods once. "It's been in the back of my mind. I did my best not to think about it for a long time. I've been too afraid. I'm sorry, Cade. I should've told you this sooner."
I can't fault her for that. I get it, and it's painfully overwhelming to sort through.
Perhaps I should've seen it. They have amazing chemistry.
"I've reached my limit, thinking about everything that’s happened," I admit. "I go back and forth with blame and self-pity, and it's been killing me not to be able to work this out." I blow out a breath and scrub a hand over my face. "I wanna let go too, princess. I wanna quit restricting myself and set up the boundaries I need."
It sounds crazy when I hear it, what I just said. But there's a difference. I put up restrictions when I was with Dylan. I caved for damn fear.
"So what're those boundaries?" she wonders.
"No goddamn uncertainty." The words escape me in a gust; it feels good to finally have it out there. "A relationship where those involved are fucking stuck with me. No getting out. No sharing outside those parameters. I wanna be enough—the only Top."
Gabriella giggles, her expression tender. "Mister, we're not stuck with you. We adore you."
We.
She can't speak for Dylan, but right now, I only need to know how she feels.
"I adore you, too." I cup her cheeks and kiss her softly. "I'm with you, princess. You can let go."
"Yeah?"
I nod and kiss her again. "We'll try." Although, the most important thing right this minute is that I can let go of the damn guilt. She doesn’t hold anything against me, and I can be open with her. Like she said, she knows.
"And you and I are solid?"
"You won't get rid of me." I pick her up, wrapping her legs around me, and shift some hair from her beautiful eyes. "More solid than diamond. Let go of everything."
She beams at me and peppers my face with kisses. "We'll make him stay."
I chuckle, dazed, feeling tons lighter. How the hell does she do it? I gotta blink past the burn in my eyes.
"One thing, though." I sit her down on the counter and level her with a serious look. What I'm about to say is bizarre because it hasn’t been an option, and I haven't processed it. "Before you speed ahead and try to get into his pants, I want to feel him out. He's been through a lot, and we don’t wanna add to that. He needs comfort and stability more than sex."
She nods, sobering. "I understand. Important stuffs."
"Good." I press my lips to her forehead. "What you can do, however, is convince him to get his butt to Mexico with us."
That oughta keep her distracted while I focus on getting more involved in Dylan's healing process. He needs to be able to trust me again.
"I can do that." She giggles behind her hand.
*
"If he doesn’t wake up soon," Gabriella whispers, "the gummy worms will be all gone."
"For some reason," I whisper back, "I think he'll live."
"But, oh," she whines. Sitting up in the middle of the bed, she pouts at Dylan, then looks pleadingly at me. I shake my head in response. Patience, princess. He needs his rest. "I can't show him cool pics of Mexico if he's sleeping."
I laugh silently and place an arm under my head as an extra pillow. "Good thing he's staying a while."
She gives me the sad eyes, and when that doesn’t work, she makes a show of pushing out her chest as she reaches over me to place the bowl of gummy worms on my nightstand. I'm not sure how she thinks using sex is going to sway me, though. She knows better, I hope.
"Watch your movie," I murmur.
She picked a stellar horror movie but wanted to see a rom-com first, so I've just b
een lying here, surrounded by blankets and string lights, waiting for the damn movie to end, all while doing some classic Cade overthinking. There've been countless doors opened now, and I wanna consider all possibilities.
Gabriella admits defeat and gets snuggly, her head on my chest. Her hand sneaks underneath my sweats to casually rest on top of my cock, and I grin and shake my head at her. Relentless.
As if that's not enough, she slowly moves her foot to Dylan's side.
"Gabriella," I warn.
"Fiiine."
More interested in her than the movie, I turn toward her and hike her leg over my hip. Her fine ass gets a squeeze through her panties, and then I get her to remove her pajama shirt, leaving a skimpy top. Much better with all that skin on display.
"Delectable baby girl," I whisper in her hair. I've grown addicted to her curvy little body, a stark contrast to the sculpted form of Dylan that I'm equally drawn to.
Tucking her head under my chin, I glance over at him, breathing easier now that I can allow myself to relax. Having never bothered to define anything sexually in the past, I guess, on some level, I've still considered myself monogamous. Now it makes more sense. For some people, there's more than one.
Gabriella giggles at something happening on the screen, and a beat later, Dylan's eyes flutter open. He blinks drowsily, unaware he's being watched, then stretches and yawns.
The kid makes me ache.
He gains his bearings and eyes the blankets creating a ceiling, and when Gabriella laughs again, he tilts his head our way, and our eyes meet. Immediately, he looks caught—though, it should be me—and he lowers his gaze.
"Did you sleep well?" I murmur.
"Yes, Sir." There's time for one nod before Gabriella turns to him and says it's about time he woke up.
"I had a thousand gummy worms while you slept," she adds. "Daddy bought that licorice you like, and there's chips and salsa. Want some? I can go get it!" She's off before Dylan can even answer.
