Hale

by K. Webster

  “Take off your panties,” I instruct.

  She slides her feet to the bed and lifts her ass so she can push her panties down. I lean forward and grab the lacy material to help them down her thighs. Once she’s naked and bared to me, I push her knees apart. In the bright sunshine, her cunt is pale pink and glistening.

  I reach behind my neck and tug off my shirt. The rest of my clothes get shed quickly. Her features become dark and hungry as she stares at my cock that bounces out in front of me. I kneel on the side of the bed and grab her hips. She laughs when I jerk her to the edge so her ass hangs off. Her laughter dies in her throat, though, when I run my tongue along her juicy slit. Her back arches up off the bed, making her tits jiggle.

  “Hudson,” she begs.

  I make work at sucking on her clit. I love the way it makes her squeal and squirm and scream. It doesn’t take long before she’s coming unglued as her orgasm takes over. She’s still shaking when I pounce on her. Sliding my arm beneath her, I pull her farther up the bed. She whimpers when my cock rubs against her sensitive clit.

  “You want my cock inside you, heathen? Did you miss it stretching your tight little hole?”

  “Oh God,” she moans. “Yes. I need you.”

  With a grin, I grab my dick and guide it into her waiting body. We both let out a hiss of air as I push my cock inside her to the hilt. Several times, I slide in and out slowly so I can watch the way my body fits inside hers. The way her pussy seems stretched to the limits. How her arousal coats my dick and lubricates it.

  “Look at how perfect we fit,” I mutter, my eyes fixated on where we’re joined. “Do you see?”

  She bites on her bottom lip and nods as she watches me fuck her. “It feels good too.”

  “Feels really fucking good,” I agree.

  I settle on top of her tiny body so I can look in her eyes. Hers shine with love and adoration. The feeling is mutual. I thread my fingers in her hair and kiss her mouth as my hips thrust against her. I’ll never be able to fathom how I lived without having Rylie like this. We’re two halves of a heart that only beats together.

  “Hudson,” she cries out against my mouth.

  I slide my palm to her ribs that feel breakable under my hand but somehow also strong with Hale scrawled across them. “Rylie.”

  Fragments of words mixed with moans echo in the treehouse cabin. Our sweaty bodies are slick as we fuck. Each of us desperately clinging to the other.

  She murmurs words of love and praise. I show her with my body that I feel the same.

  Together, we make sweet, frantic love.

  She’s my wife—my sister—my everything.

  Life may feel too short and too fragile…

  I’ll be damned if I waste one second of it.

  Rylie

  Several months later…

  “I can get it,” I grumble, even though I worry about my arms giving out. My new doctor says I have nerve damage that may never heal back up. Dreams of cutting hair like Mom did were pushed aside as I had to discover my own strengths and abilities.

  Hudson ignores me as he uses the oven mitts to pull out the giant turkey from the oven. He sets it on the stovetop and then closes the door. “Doesn’t look like Mom’s,” he muses aloud.

  I swat at him. “It’s a new recipe.” I nudge him with my hip and he steps out of the way, but not before sticking his finger in the mashed potatoes. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  He grins at me, wide and boyish. After all this time together, as a couple, it’s still hard to believe he’s mine. “Boyd says everyone deserves Thanksgiving off.”

  I shake my head. “He did not say that.”

  Hudson runs the books for Boyd Williams’ riverside resort. His cabins are top-of-the-line and have the best views in Jasper. He also lets us rent one of the cabins in a secluded section of his property for hardly anything. I may not know much about finance and accounting like my genius brother, but Boyd lets me help with marketing and website stuff. He’s been patient and so nice to take us under his wing.

  “He said, and I quote, ‘Enjoy the day off, watch some football, eat some peeh-can pie, make a turd, and give yer wife some lovin’. But not in that order, son. Definitely not in that order.’”

  I giggle because I can imagine Boyd saying just that. His belly is big, but his handlebar mustache is bigger. Funniest country bumpkin you’ll ever meet. Probably the richest one in Jasper, Arkansas too. His wife, Patty, should have earned a medal for putting up with him for thirty years. “That sounds like the Boyd I know.”

  Hudson laughs as he roots around in the fridge, no doubt after the devilled eggs I made earlier. Memories of Mom cracking him with the towel for eating her dinner before it was ready have me smiling. I don’t fuss at him but instead make sure everything is ready to eat.

  “You want to say the blessing?” I ask as I pull off my apron. The first Thanksgiving without our parents is hard, but Hudson promised me we’ll make new memories. Always making new memories. This is how we move forward.

  He walks up behind me, resting his chin on my head, and palms my stomach. “Lord, thank you for giving us each other and this perfect life in Jasper. Tell Mom and Dad hi.”

  I laugh and swat at his hand. “And?”

  “Thank you for letting Rylie make me food all the time now, Lord. I’m extra nice to her.”

  “All you had to do was say please. I told you this when we were kids. You were just too stubborn back then,” I say with a playful huff.

  We both chuckle.

  “And what else?” I ask.

  “Thank you, Lord, for blessing this food.”

  “Amen,” I say primly.

  He kisses the side of my neck. “Is my son hungry?”

  As if woken up by his daddy, our son kicks at him.

  “Always.” Turning, I slide my palms up Hudson’s firm chest and rest them on his shoulders. My stomach is round and large between us. Life is pretty perfect.

  “Did you take your medicine?” he murmurs, his dark brows furrowed in concern.

  Well, almost perfect.

  My new doctor in Jasper has prescribed antidepressants that are safe during pregnancy since my old ones were not. I don’t like taking them, but I also don’t like how low and dark my mind can get. The medicine helps keep me on the straight and narrow. But Hudson is the one who heals me altogether.

  His love is a cure.

  “I did. Do you think…” I trail off and bite on my bottom lip, hoping to keep the tears at bay. “Do you think he’ll be like me?”

  Hudson tangles his fingers in my hair and kisses me fiercely. When I’m gasping for air, he pulls away and rests his forehead to mine. “I hope he’s just like you. Smart. Perfect. A great cook. Funny. Fucking adorable.”

  I grin at him. “Maybe I want him to be like you. Strong and a math whiz.”

  “That’s it? I give you five things and you give me two?” His teeth nip playfully at my jaw and the side of my neck.

  “You’re a lot more than two,” I agree. My smile falls. “I meant, you know, mentally ill.”

  No matter how many times Hudson assures me our son will be fine, I worry. There’s a chance that, genetically, I could pass down my depression to my son. But what I worry most about is new illnesses given to him because of who his father is—my brother. I’ve scoured the Internet looking for articles about incest. Despite the hate and disgust geared toward the subject, I’ve yet to find any proof that birth defects and mental disorders are linked to incest. In my effort to find answers, though, I did find a forum where people like us from all over the world have a place to discuss our challenges and triumphs while remaining anonymous. The admins of the group monitor the people in it closely and keep any hate away from us. I’ve found a friend, Maggie, who’s also with her brother. They have three kids and all of them are healthy. I ask her millions of questions and she answers them all patiently.

  “Do you remember our vows?” he asks, his lips trailing kisses along my cheek
until he reaches my mouth.

  “I love you, even in sickness, Rylie. I’ll do the same for our son. We’re a family.”

  Blinking away my tears, I smile at him. “A family.”

  “Now let’s see if this dinner turned out okay. It’s not too late to crash Boyd and Patty’s dinner if it’s a total fail,” he teases, lightening the mood.

  “You’re an asshole,” I grumble, unable to hide my smile.

  “An asshole who was inside your asshole last night, heathen.” He grins wickedly at me.

  “Hudson Hale!”

  “Yes, Rylie Hale?”

  “You’re so bad.”

  He laughs, the sound deep and rumbly. “Then you must be bad too because you came loud enough that I was sure half the guests down the river heard me stretching out your needy little asshole.”

  I shake my head at him. “This is not a good start to our official first Thanksgiving.”

  “Whatever you say, beautiful. I think it’s kind of perfect.” He steals a kiss as he sets to cutting up the turkey.

  I pick up the bowl of mashed potatoes and only wince slightly at the pain that shoots up my arms. I’ve been working hard with the weights lately because I want to be able to carry my son with no problems. One day soon, I hope to have full, pain-free functionality of my arms.

  As we settle at our two-person table that already has a high chair set up and waiting nearby, I take a moment to enjoy our little slice of heaven. Beyond the big window that faces the west is an endless sea of trees, all of which are brilliant oranges, yellows, reds, and browns. The beautiful and winding Buffalo River can be seen cutting through the trees down below.

  Hudson reaches across the table and runs his fingertip along my scar on my right arm. I turn to regard him, marveling at how handsome he is. He’s let his scruff grow in and it makes him seem older and more rugged.

  Mine.

  “I couldn’t ask for anything more than this, Rylie. This is everything.” His hand clutches mine. “You are everything.”

  Hudson

  Six and a half years later…

  “Run, JJ, run!” Rylie hollers from the picnic table where she sits with Aunt Becky.

  Our son runs as fast as his little legs will take him around the makeshift bases. His slightly older cousin, Hunter, finds the baseball and lobs it at Uncle Randy, who misses. Hunter and Uncle Randy can’t play baseball for shit, but they’re still all smiles. When JJ stomps on home base, he runs over to me and throws his skinny arms around my waist.

  “Home run, Daddy,” he says, panting.

  His dark hair is sweaty and slightly curly. Cutest damn boy on the planet. Looks just like his grandpa Jerald James Hale who he’s named after.

  “Good job, squirt,” I tell him and then ruffle his hair.

  “Can we go swimming now?” he asks, no longer interested in our baseball game. We rode on the boat all afternoon then stopped for lunch and a quick game of baseball.

  “Swimming!” Lo, short for Lauren after her grandma, hollers, waving her chunky arms in the air.

  Rylie scoops up our three-year-old daughter, who’s been playing in the sand near the picnic table, and hefts her on her hip. She may be pregnant with our third child, but she still looks as beautiful as ever. When our eyes catch, hers beam with happiness. I know mine reflect the same.

  Aunt Becky, finally pregnant with their second, waddles behind Rylie. Her cheeks are full and her face is red, but my grumpy Aunt Becky is much calmer these days. After Rylie nearly taking her life, something shifted in our aunt. It was never spoken about. To this day, we keep up the lie that Travis keeps knocking up Rylie Hale. Such a deadbeat dad. Poor Travis.

  But Heather Miller?

  Heather Miller, according to the state of Arkansas, married Hudson Hale on a hot, late summer day. They honeymooned for a full week in a treehouse cabin in Eureka Springs. Then, they took to the road and settled in the first town that felt like home. Jasper, Arkansas. Hudson Hale bumped into a feisty old man with a handlebar mustache arguing over his change in a corner store. He sorted the old man out and the man offered him a job, a home, and a slice of paradise. Hudson Hale is listed as the father on both JJ and Lo’s birth certificates. And when baby Colin arrives, his will look the same.

  And to further extend the lie, we told Aunt Becky and Uncle Randy the kids would call me Daddy so they wouldn’t know their real dad was a piece of shit. A fake piece of shit, but a piece of shit nonetheless.

  Our aunt and uncle don’t argue with us. They don’t call us out on our lies. They don’t ask questions. And they certainly don’t look at us with disgust like I thought they might. Instead, they simply beg us to keep in touch and spend at least one week during the summer at Lake of the Ozarks with them.

  Near the water’s edge, I help JJ put his lifejacket back on. Once he’s strapped up, he follows Hunter and Uncle Randy onto the boat, always eager to spend time with his cousin and uncle. Aunt Becky smiles at me as Uncle Randy helps her on the boat as well. Rylie and I linger for a moment. Her big brown eyes burn into mine, begging for a kiss.

  But not here.

  Not now.

  Not outside of our safe bubble in the Ozark Mountains back in Jasper.

  Tonight, though, when the kids are asleep and we’re all alone, I’ll kiss her all night. Everywhere. For as long as she asks me to.

  “Off,” Lo whines. She tries to tug at her lifejacket that we don’t take off, even for lunch, but I tickle her and distract her. She reaches for me and grins, her toothy mouth adorable as hell. “Daddy.”

  Pulling her to me, I kiss her soft brown hair and wink at Rylie, who stares at me with hungry eyes. “Later, heathen. I know what you want and you can have it later when no prying eyes are around. I promise.”

  An airplane passes overhead, gaining everyone’s attention. The boys and our daughter are pointing in the sky. Uncle Randy and Aunt Becky are shielding their eyes as they look too.

  “Nobody has to know,” Rylie murmurs, biting on her succulent bottom lip that I know will taste just like the watermelon she’s been nibbling on all day.

  Leaning in, I steal a kiss because she’s impossible to deny.

  Quick. Sweet. Ours.

  “You taste like watermelon and happiness,” I say as we walk toward the boat. I give her butt a discreet squeeze over her swimsuit that hugs her perfect ass. It’s plumped out again now that she’s pregnant and I love it. Nobody has to know.

  She grins back at me. “You taste like mine.”

  The End

  (A happily ever after. Just a complicated one.)

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