Sharp Right Turn (Sharp Turn Saga #2)

by Faye Byrd

  “Stop it!” She laughs out right before sobering up. “We need to tell them about us being their parents.”

  My heart stutters as a shot of pure joy moves over me. I always knew we’d have to tell them, but hearing her admit it—want it—out loud, makes it all the more real. My fatherless son will gain a father. My motherless son will gain a mother. It’s enough to make my eyes sting.

  “I told you. I’ll go with whatever you think is best,” I say evenly, trying not to burst into tears. “But I’m so ready to tell them.”

  She latches our pinkies together. “Good.”

  “When?” I blurt in a high-pitched voice. The topic we’re discussing mixed with the feel of her touch disconcerts me.

  “As soon as possible. We’ll know when the moment is right.” She tightens her hold and then pulls back, wrapping her hand around her mug and turning her focus to the marble countertop.

  I reach up and palm the back of her neck, working my fingers into the tense muscles. “Go ahead, Easton. Get it off your chest.”

  “Okay, then, ground rules,” she says, blowing out a breath and meeting my eyes. “No sleeping together. I can’t have the boys catching us in the same bed in the mornings. It’ll only muddle up an already confusing situation.”

  My brows lift into my hairline. “Um, Blake and I live at the hotel, so that scenario is unlikely. Did the mind-blowing sex make you forget that fact?”

  She speaks to my chest, but this time it isn’t because she’s ogling me. “I know, but I was hoping you’d want to stay here. The boys can share Cam’s room for now, and you can have the guest room.”

  My mouth gapes open. “I, uh … “

  “You don’t have to. I just thought it would be easier, at least for now. Never mind … Forget I asked.” She covers her face with her hands.

  I pull them away and hold them between us. “Easton, we’d love to stay here, but are you sure that’s what you want?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t like the boys being apart, even if it is just at night, and I don’t want us separated from our boys. This seems to be a logical solution.”

  What’s she saying is an excellent solution, the perfect solution, especially when our children learn the truth, but can I keep it all about them? Everything about her is pulling me in, and this can only add to my already confusing feelings.

  “Blake and I will happily accept your invitation,” I say, rubbing my thumbs across her wrists. “I want them to know they’re brothers and to live like brothers, even if it’s just for now.”

  “That’s exactly how I feel.” Her smile is soft, but it doesn’t last long. “Which is why it’s so important we don’t mess this up. As it is, we’ve gone about it all wrong, but I think it’s for the right reasons.”

  “Are you referring to last night?” I ask, not entirely sure what she means, yet feeling like it mirrors my own thoughts all the same.

  “I am,” she replies, pulling away and going back to her studying of the countertop. “You’re an amazing father, Trystan. An amazing man. In any other life, I could see myself wanting to date you, see where we could go.” Her worried eyes find mine. “But for us, in this situation, it’s simply not possible.”

  A wrinkle forms on my forehead. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”

  “Us. Last night. It felt like more.” She motions back and forth with frustrated movements. “I’ve been fighting it, you, so hard that it muddied the waters. It changed the dynamic of our original intentions. It turned it into a game,” she says, straightening her shoulders and piercing me with those damn eyes. “But feelings have no place in our agreement. It’s just sex.”

  Hearing her admit it felt like more soothes the sting from the rest of her declaration, but it doesn’t heal it completely. It did feel like more. I wanted more from her, yet here she is informing me that it’ll never be mine to have. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that, but if she just wants to fuck, I can do that, too. It’s not like I’m in the market for the next Mrs. Ashby.

  “I hear ya,” I say with a nod. “It’s important we remember why we agreed to sleep together to begin with. I think with the buildup over the last two weeks, I may have forgotten.”

  “Which is why we need ground rules now, instead of after it’s too late,” she says with an apologetic shrug. “We have to put our boys first, always.”

  “Okay, so ground rule one. We’re only fucking. Two. We sleep in our own rooms. And three, no feelings,” I say, counting off on my fingers. “No chase and no pretenses. We have a job to do, and if we enjoy it, that’s okay, too.”

  Regardless of whether or not I buy into the bullshit explanation Easton’s selling, this conversation delivers a well-needed reality check. The only reason I ever hit on her in the first place was because of this convoluted plan she threw at me. Now it’s time I fucking remember that shit.

  “I like that. No pretenses,” she says, her eyes roving over my naked torso.

  “It goes with the whole parenting thing really,” I say with a shrug. “Honesty is a huge factor in our relationship, and it might as well stem to this, too. If you need me, all you have to do is speak up.”

  “Consider that a two-way street.” She tilts her head. “Anything else?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I smirk, my eyes trailing across all the bare skin she’s showing. “I have a ground rule of my own.”

  “Well?” She lifts a brow and motions for me to continue.

  “In order to keep myself in check, you’re going to have to wear sweats and turtlenecks daily,” I say as seriously as I can.

  She stands and puts her hand on her hip. “Are you saying that what I’m wearing bothers you, Chef Ashby?”

  I eye her from her sexy bare feet to her creamy thighs past the tiny shorts to the small slip of stomach she’s showing. Next is the tank top with little skinny straps; her neck and collarbone an open invitation. I’m almost salivating by the time I’m done.

  I stand in front of her. “Oh, it’s no bother.” I lean down and run my nose along her pulse point. “As long as you’re okay with me fucking you on this bar.”

  Her breathing gets shallow. “We’ll have to work on the bar another time,” she says, trying to sound firm but failing miserably. She’s just as fucking shaken as me. “But I’d like to suggest the same. No bare-chested breakfast cooking.”

  “Deal,” I say, making my pec jump as I turn away.

  My smile is ear to ear as I get started making pancakes, whistling as I go. My mood is high right now. Blake and I are going to be staying here, and we’re going to tell the boys we’re their parents. Last night was fucking incredible, and the lines have been defined between Easton and me. Since that day weeks ago, the improvement is vast, and I feel like this morning is the biggest leap we’ve made yet.

  Easton heads upstairs to wake the boys, and if I’m lucky, change her fucking clothes. I may have made it seem like a joke, but she really can’t expect me to behave when she’s parading around so scantily clad.

  Just as I pull the last pancake off the griddle pan, all three of them enter the kitchen. Easton marches straight to me, shoving my T-shirt into my chest and grabbing the platter of pancakes. Her sweatpant-clad ass is still delectable as she swishes over to the table. It’s still not enough to turn me off, but it’s a fuckload better than those tiny shorts.

  “Morning, boys.” I smile as I slip my T-shirt over my head.

  “Morning, Daddy,” Blake says. “What kind pancakes are these?”

  “Banana nut,” I answer.

  Easton crinkles her nose. “They’re Cam’s favorite.”

  “You don’t like them?” I ask, since I never bothered to ask about their likes and dislikes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  She shakes her head. “No, but that’s okay. I’ll just make some toast and grab another cup of coffee.”

  “You sure? I can make you something else,” I offer, feeling bad that she’ll only be eating toast. That’s no breakfast at
all.

  “Nope, I’m good.” She smiles and grabs a loaf of wheat bread from her basket.

  Cam tugs at my pant leg. “How you know I like nana nut best?”

  “I didn’t, dude, but they’re mine and Blake’s favorite, too,” I say, squatting down to poke him in the belly.

  Blake nods along. “Uh, huh.”

  “Cool,” Cam replies and pulls himself into a chair.

  I help the boys add the warm syrup to their pancakes before loading my own plate. By the time I’m done, Easton takes a seat with a small dish holding two slices of buttered toast. This bubble forms in my chest. It may not be the first time we’ve sat down to eat together, but it is the first day of something new.

  “Cam, your hair looks just like my daddy’s in the morning,” Blake says out of nowhere.

  Easton’s toast hits her plate, and my jaw freezes in the middle of a chew. Panic fills her eyes as they snap to mine, but this is the opening she needs. We need. I give her a meaningful stare.

  “You know, it does look like mine,” I say, my eyes on Easton, encouraging her to use this opening. There’s no way she can leave this to me. I’m sure to fuck it up royally.

  She clears her throat. “Well, uh, boys, uh …”

  They just stare at her as she searches for the right words.

  “What Easton is trying to say is there’s a reason Cam’s hair looks like mine,” I start, prodding her with my eyes to take over before this becomes a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

  “Your daddy and I have something we need to tell you,” she says, fidgeting with her coffee mug.

  They continue to stare.

  “Okay, um, the thing is … um, Cam looks like your daddy, Blake, because he’s Cam’sdaddytoo,” she finally says, the last part coming so fast that there’s no way they understood her. But children are pretty brilliant, and he doesn’t miss a beat.

  “I not gots a daddy,” Cam says, shrugging and holding up his hands.

  She gets on her knees in front of him, brushing her hand across the top of his wild, morning hair. “Yes, baby, you do. Trystan’s your daddy.”

  Cam’s eyes widen as he turns to Blake. “Your daddy is my daddy, too.”

  Blake just nods like he knew it all along. “Yep.” He turns to me. “Does that mean we brothers?”

  “It sure does, dude,” I tell him, almost choking up at how smoothly this is unfolding. Easton said we’d know when, and she was right.

  “But he gots a mom, and I don’t.” Blake pouts, crossing his arms. He turns to Cam. “Can your mom be my mom, too?”

  Tears form in Easton’s eyes as Cam just nods away. “Yeah, hers a mama, though. Not a mom.”

  “Okay, my mama then.” Blake shrugs in agreement.

  Easton’s emotions are choking her up, so I go over and squat down in between the boys. “Blake, Easton is your mama.” I look between them both. “I’m your daddy and Easton’s your mama. Both of you. We’re your parents, and you’re each other’s brother.”

  Blake fist pumps. “Fudge yeah.” Dammit, the kid is trying to ruin my moment here with that crap, but Easton, being the awesome person she is, lets it slide … this time.

  “I gots a brother,” Cam sings as he goes back to eating his pancakes.

  Easton’s tears are streaming down her cheeks, so I go to her, wiping them away. “Please, don’t cry.”

  She smiles. “Happy tears, Trystan. Happy tears.”

  But then Blake says, “Aren’t mamas and daddies posed to be married?”

  3 Barrier Ahead

  Easy

  The past few days have been an adjustment, but not so much for the boys. They’re resilient and so easy-going that none of this has fazed them in the least. Right after Blake’s question, Trystan explained that not all parents are married. We used it as a learning experience to make them understand that families come in all types. As they grow, we’ll have to explain it better, but for now, they know the basic facts.

  The ones that matter, anyway.

  I’m their mama and Trystan is their daddy.

  And they are brothers.

  With such a hard concept grasped so easily, announcing the move was a piece of cake. Right after breakfast, Trystan got in his rental and went to the hotel to pick up their things and clear his tab. He was surprised to learn that Katherine, via Metro University Healthcare, had already assumed all charges, but I wasn’t. Their relationship was contentious, but she’d never failed to accept responsibility.

  In the days since, we’ve had a second twin bed installed in Cameron’s room, and while it has been slept in, it’s only been when both boys settle there. They’re as thick as thieves and fall asleep every night in the same bed, whichever one they decide.

  It’s Friday now, and Trystan’s family is arriving in Atlanta any minute. I’m quite excited to meet Cooper’s family and a little nervous to meet his parents. From everything I’ve learned, they’re a posh older couple who have certain expectations when it comes to their children, and in their eyes, Trystan has already failed them once.

  Trystan … I sigh just thinking about him. He’s a contradiction that’s come to ruin me. Since we cleared the air, things have felt more in line with how they should be. The sex is steamy, and once it’s over, Trystan leaves me naked and sated without nary a word. But all too often, I find myself wishing for a different outcome. From his loving father side to his sexy chef side and then his fuck-me-gloriously side, I’m fighting a battle every day.

  But it’s one I must win.

  Right at this very moment, he’s upstairs, reading to the boys. It melts my heart completely, and I find myself imagining things that can never be. I can’t fall for this enigmatic man who shares a remarkable future with my sons and me.

  The doorbell sounds. My brow furrows as I place the dusting cloth and polish on the coffee table. When I pull open the door, there’s an older man and woman standing there who look oddly familiar, even though I’ve never seen them before.

  “May I help you?”

  The man clears his throat. “Ah, yes, we’re looking for Trystan Ashby. This is the address we were given, but it must be a mistake.” It’s then I realize who these people are. Trystan’s parents. He and his father have a lot of similarities. I must’ve been lost in my musing too long because the man speaks again. “We’re sorry to have bothered you.”

  Just as he turns to leave, I reach out and touch his arm. “No, sir, you have the right house. Trystan is here.”

  He stops and narrows his eyes. “And you are?”

  I hold out my hand. “My name is Easton Wilder.”

  He ignores my gesture and lifts his chin. “And how do you know my son?”

  I cross my arms. “I think that would be better explained by Trystan. Won’t you come in and I’ll get him.”

  He stands firm. “Now you hold on just a minute, young lady, I asked you a question.”

  My brow rises at his tone. “Excuse me? I answered your question as much as I’m going to. You need to speak with your son. Now you can stand here and wait, or you can come inside, either is fine with me, but―”

  “Easton,” Trystan calls, coming down the stairs. “What’s going on?”

  I lean back and lift a brow. “Your parents are here.”

  He stops in his tracks and his eyes widen. “What?”

  I have no intention of being put in the middle of this conversation. I approach where he’s paused at the foot of the stairs. “Yes, your parents, and your dad has questions.” I brush his arm as I pass, headed to finish my dusting in the family room. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  He grabs my wrist before I can get away. “No, please stay.” He glances toward the door. “I want you with me for this. A solid unit.”

  I sigh. “Are you sure? It might only make it worse.”

  His shoulders relax. “It might make it worse for them, but I want you here, Easton. I can’t make any promises on their reaction, but I can promise to tell them to fuck off if they disrespe
ct you, Cam or our decisions.”

  I tilt my head, recognizing his defensive attitude. “I don’t want you to argue with them.”

  He grabs my hand and holds it in his. “You and Cam are worth it, and they’ll see that or they won’t. It’s that simple.”

  A throat clears bringing us from our quiet discussion. “Well, by all means, don’t let me interrupt. I have all day to stand here.”

  Trystan’s jaw clenches before he grabs my arm, turning me to face them. “Mother, Father, allow me to introduce you to Easton Wilder. Easton, these are my parents, Reed and Bunnie Ashby.”

  I offer a polite smile. “Hello, nice to officially meet you.”

  “Cut the crap, Trystan. You have some serious explaining to do,” his father growls.

  “What the fuck are you even doing here right now?” Trystan demands, crossing his arms over his chest.

  His mother gasps. “Language, Trystan, and your brother gave us the address. We were supposed to meet him here this afternoon, but your father wouldn’t wait.”

  “Well, let’s have a seat,” Trystan instructs, waving toward the living room.

  I clear my throat. “Would either of you like something to drink?”

  Mr. Ashby sits in the recliner, stiff as a board. “No, what I’d like are some goddamn answers.”

  Trystan’s fists ball at his sides. “If you hadn’t barged in here unexpected, your fucking answers would’ve come much easier.”

  “Where is here, Trystan, and why are you here?” Mr. Ashby demands in a steely voice.

  Mrs. Ashby and I take a seat on the sofa while Trystan sits on the arm next to me, facing his father. “Look, Dad, it’s a complicated story, and I’m not sure how you’re going to react. I won’t have you blowing up and upsetting anyone when I answer your questions.”

  “How am I supposed to react when I find out my son has canceled all work on his business and taken off to Atlanta?” he asks but continues before Trystan can respond. “All without breathing a word to your mother or me.”

  Trystan rubs his forehead and then slides his hand straight into his hair. “It was sudden. I left, coming here for a business meeting and it turned into much more than that. I, uh … I won’t be leaving it behind either. I’m staying here.”