The Halo Series Boxed Set

by Kimberly Knight

I took a sip of my coffee. “I can only imagine what you did on the weekends.”

  She gave a hard laugh and almost spilled her coffee in the process.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Sis, it wasn’t only on the weekends.”

  I scrunched my eyebrows and huffed slightly. “How did you pass your classes?”

  “Weed,” she stated bluntly.

  My eyes became huge at what she’d said. “Weed?”

  She laughed again. “I went to Berkeley.”

  I blinked at her, now trying to understand the words coming from her mouth because I didn’t understand how Berkeley and marijuana went together.

  “Oh come on, you know it’s known as being a hippie-stoner school.”

  I took a deep breath trying to calm my anger. She was an adult, but this was my baby sister who I raised, and I didn’t raise her to be a stoner. Hearing how she got drunk and high while she was away at college made me want to spank her ass.

  “Say something.” She took a sip from her mug.

  I swallowed hard. “First, I had no idea it had that reputation. Second, how the hell did that help you pass classes? I thought it made people hungry. And third, what the fuck, Bailee Rose?”

  “Okay, you need to calm down.” She smirked. “Weed isn’t bad for you. Hell, it helps people with cancer. And I didn’t smoke all the time, Mom. Only at parties or when I needed to relax and do homework or something. It actually helped me focus because it calmed me.”

  It felt as though my heart stopped at the mention of the C word. Before I could respond, the timer I’d set on the oven went off telling me it was time to check to see if the bacon was done. I stood, taking my empty coffee cup with me.

  “You’re not going to say anything?” she yelled after me.

  “Just …” There were no words. Drugs were something I never wanted to do or take—until now. Now I was popping pain pills like Tic Tacs. But weed? At least I had a prescription for mine.

  I turned off the beeping timer and opened the oven. The bacon was done, so I took it out and placed the tray on top of the stove. Bailee was standing at the breakfast bar watching me.

  “You’re mad?” she asked as I grabbed a plate.

  “Do you have a prescription for it?” Like that mattered. People got drugs all the time and didn’t need a prescription. But I never expected my baby sister to be one of them.

  She chuckled. “No.”

  “Okay, let’s change the subject. Why don’t you help me make pancakes since you’re out of bed now?”

  She hugged me from behind. “Don’t be mad. I’m not a pothead.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. I felt like a hypocrite even though my reason for taking drugs was justified. I was also thinking about the C word again.

  “I’m not mad.”

  “You sure? Because you seem mad.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, Bai, I’m sure. I do need to tell you something after breakfast.”

  “What about? Just tell me.”

  “Let’s eat first.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  She had no idea because I was the one who was actually terrified.

  Bailee tried to pry out of me what I needed to talk to her about over breakfast, but I avoided the question numerous times by changing the subject until she finally stopped asking. After we were both done, we sat in silence as we stared at the TV. I wasn’t sure what was on because I’d zoned out. How would I tell her that I may have colon cancer?

  “Just tell me.”

  I turned my head toward her. I wanted to blurt the situation out and let it be out in the air for her to swallow, except I couldn’t form the right sentence.

  “Tell me,” she repeated. “You’re really scaring me.”

  I closed my eyes and muttered softly, “I’m scared, too.”

  “Brooke—”

  I took a deep breath. There was no reason to ease into it. “I may have colon cancer.”

  She drew her head back as if I’d slapped her. “What?”

  I felt my throat closing. “I saw a genetics counselor and had my blood drawn a few days ago to test for markers for familial—fuck, I don’t know how to say what it’s called, but FAP.”

  She scrunched her eyebrows. “FAP?”

  “People with desmoid tumors usually have FAP which is basically colon cancer.”

  She stared at me for what seemed like hours until she finally shook her head and uttered in a whisper, “No.”

  I nodded slowly. “Let me pull up FAP on my phone and let you read what it’s about.” I figured that would be easier for her, and for me since I couldn’t pronounce the damn condition.

  I watched her as she read over the website. “So this familial aden-whatever is hereditary, and I might have it too?”

  I reached for my phone to shut it off. “Not necessarily. Since we don’t have the same father, it’s hard to say. But if Mom has the markers, then she could have passed it to either one of us. There’s about a fifty-fifty chance for her to spread it, and since she has two kids …”

  “But Mom doesn’t have colon cancer, does she?”

  I sighed. “I don’t think so, but it’s possible for someone to carry the trait and not have any symptoms.”

  Bailee groaned. “That would be so like Mom to not have a care in the world and then stick us with her shit.”

  “I’m not sure it works that way.” I laughed slightly. “Since I’ve already had a desmoid, it’s likely I have the disorder and not you.”

  “Likely …”

  I shrugged. “It is what it is. I just have to roll with it.”

  “We don’t know that. There’s still a chance.”

  “A slight chance.”

  “Still a chance.”

  Silence fell over us for a few moments. “I need to call Mom and ask her if anyone on her side of the family has colon cancer, though.” I frowned. I didn’t want to call my mother and let her know that I still might be sick. It would damper her plan of being a grandmother even though that was totally jumping the gun. I didn’t even want to tell her I was getting married.

  “Great. Let’s get it over with because I need a nap.”

  “And I need to head home after I shower. Dinner with the Crawford’s.” I smiled. They were my family now.

  “I’m going to need to visit again so I can meet them.”

  “And see Nicole.”

  Bailee sighed. “All this bad news is making me depressed; Nicole losing her baby and you might have cancer. I can’t handle it. Scratch the nap, I need to drink again.”

  I chuckled trying to lighten the mood. “You’re feeling better now because of bacon.” I looked down at my phone to find our mom’s number.

  “Kinda. But really, this is all stressing me out. I need to find a weed dealer.”

  My eyes cut to her and I glared.

  “Relax. Shit, I should get you some too. You know, in case.”

  “Let’s not think about that until we talk to Mom.”

  She waved her hand in the direction of my cell. “Call her.”

  I groaned as I grabbed the phone, pressed the phone icon next to my mom’s number in my contacts, and then put it on speaker phone so we could both talk to her. The phone rang and rang and rang until it connected to her voicemail.

  Figured.

  Having Brooke away for the night was weird, and it was strange sleeping in my bed alone. I missed her warmth and the way she always pressed her ass against mine as we slept back to back. It was almost as though she needed to know I was still there while she slept. But she had nothing to worry about. Brooke was the one. I wasn’t going to fuck around on her like Jared had, or like I did when I was with Dana.

  Once a cheater always a cheater? I knew that wasn’t true. Though our relationship was still new, I knew deep in my heart I’d never wrong her. Even many years down the road, I wouldn’t stray. When you find your person, you don’t go looking for another one. And Brooke was my person. Period. End of story.
r />   After the cruise, I’d spent most nights alone while Brooke was in Boston. That was no more. I never wanted to sleep in my bed without her again. Of course, that wasn’t reality since Bailee had moved back to Boston and I assumed Brooke would visit her often. But fuck, my bed was cold, and my dick told me he missed her too.

  Me: Ha! Is that the only reason you’re marrying me?

  Brooke: That and the way you make me come.

  I was hard and needed to come myself since I’d been thinking about making her come for the rest of the night. I wanted to call her—hear her voice—tell her I was thinking about her. Except I didn’t want to be that fiancé.

  While lying in bed, thinking about Brooke and how, if she were here, I would press up against her back, feeling her ass press against my dick, my cock stiffened. I pictured her soft curves and how smooth she was under my strong hands. Lowering my hand to the front of my boxers, I fisted my dick. The cotton of my underwear allowed me to glide my hand over it and I teased myself imagining it was my woman doing it. My shaft was rock hard as I pulled my boxers down my legs, kicking them until they pooled under the covers at the foot of the bed. The sheet slipped down with them, and my dick bobbed as it broke free.

  I was naked, horny as fuck and alone.

  Continuing to take matters into my own hands, I fisted my cock again, sliding my hand up and down. I swirled my big hand when I stroked the tip, my index finger pressing a little harder on the underside where I liked it the most.

  I started slowly, enjoying the pleasure as it relaxed me.

  Up. Down.

  Up. Down.

  Up. Down. Swirl.

  My hand started to tighten slightly around my shaft as images of Brooke’s head bobbing in my lap flashed into my brain. I sucked in my breath for a beat, letting a low groan vibrate my throat, and my abs clenched as I started to get closer to climaxing. With my other hand, I reached down, grabbed my balls and rolled them as my right hand continued to glide over my dick. My hips rocked upward with each pump and twist of my hand, my breathing quickened, and my speed increased.

  Pre-cum coated my hand, and I imagined it was Brooke’s warm heat my dick was sliding into. My balls felt heavy as I worked them in my palm getting closer and closer to coming. My entire body started to tighten as I jerked myself faster and harder.

  I was close.

  So fucking close.

  So close that as I stroked up again, twisting around the head of my cock, cum shot out in ribbons over my stomach and in my hand. I continued to stroke, my cum coating my entire shaft as I groaned my release.

  Cum covered my abs as I basked in the aftermath of climaxing.

  As soon as I woke up the next morning, I texted Brooke, secretly wanting to know when she’d been home. She texted me back—hungover. I told her to eat some grease and get home because we had our weekly plans for dinner with my folks. Really I only wanted her home and in bed with our asses glued together as we slept. I was lovesick.

  I always thought Avery was crazy because he’d fallen hard so fast, but here I was, still falling. Every day I fell more and more in love with Brooke because she was my person—my soul mate—the one I was going to grow old with.

  Every day Brooke and I thought about her possibly having colon cancer and this FAP crap. I’d catch her staring off into space and in my gut, I knew she was worried. My gut was also telling me that she was fine. That she was going to be okay, and we’d get married and have another kid like we both wanted.

  I was out in my front yard, mowing the grass while Cheyenne played catch in the street with Courtney, when Brooke finally arrived home. I didn’t know what time it was, but the sun was setting. I smiled as she pulled into the driveway and into our two-car garage. At first, it was weird thinking of my house being ours, but now everything felt right and the way it was meant to be.

  Easton Crawford was getting married—again. Never thought I’d see the day.

  “Hey.” My smile was wide as Brooke came out of the garage.

  “Do we have any lemonade?”

  I blinked at her question. “Lemonade? Um … I don’t think so. Why?”

  She smiled and kissed me hello. “It’s a warm summer day, you’re shirtless mowing our lawn, and I get the feeling I should be in a rocking chair on the front porch sipping lemonade.”

  I chuckled slightly. “Do you read this shit in your romance books?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure I’ve seen it in a movie. Although I think they were watching a neighbor mow or something. I can’t remember, but I know I want to watch you sweat while you’re mowing.” She was smiling as she ogled my sweaty chest.

  “You can watch me sweat while I do something else.” I smirked.

  Brooke cut her eyes to where the girls were in the street. They weren’t paying any attention to us and then she turned back to me still smiling and lowered her voice. “You’re going to work up a sweat masturbating?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No.” I lowered my voice. “I’m going to work up a sweat fucking you.”

  She ran her hand down my abs. “Maybe later. First, you need to shower, or we’ll be late to your parents.”

  “They won’t eat without us.”

  Brooke rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure my head is ready for … more pounding.”

  “You’re making me want you more,” I groaned.

  She started to walk away, but then she stopped and turned back to me. “Actually, it was a Diet Coke commercial.”

  “What?” I questioned.

  “It wasn’t lemonade. It was girls watching a guy mow in a park. They rolled him a Diet Coke, and when he opened it, it sprayed all over him, so he wickedly took off his shirt and rung it out. Then he proceeded to mow the grass shirtless after he drank the rest of the pop.”

  “You remember that, but you don’t remember last night?” I laughed.

  “Hey! There was alcohol involved last night.”

  “So you’re saying I need to get you wasted and take advantage of you so you don’t remember?”

  She grinned. “No, I want to remember you taking advantage of me.”

  I groaned again thinking about all the ways I could fuck her.

  “I know, not helping.” She laughed and walked off leaving me to adjust myself before I was able to roll the mower to the garage.

  When I walked into our bedroom shortly after, drinking a Diet Coke (Hey, could you blame me?), Brooke was sitting on the edge of the bed talking on her cell phone.

  “I really wanted to have this conversation when I was with Bailee … I don’t really care if you were with Stanley’s grandkids … Are you trying to rub it in? … Seriously you have no idea what I’m going through. I’m not going to pop out a kid just for you …”

  “Are you okay?” I mouthed. Brooke nodded, so I leaned against the wall, drinking the soda and listening to the one-sided conversation.

  “Can we talk about why I called you in the first place? … I need to know if you know of anyone in our family with colon cancer … Because I need to know … That’s good. Do you know anything about my father’s family? … Great. I need to go to Easton’s parents for dinner … Well, if you’d called your daughters, you’d know what’s going on in our lives … She’s good and just moved back to Boston … Look, I really need to go. I’ll talk to you on your birthday, bye.”

  Brooke pushed a button on her phone, a scowl on her face and I reached my hand out with the soda. “Want some?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood given she’d just had a heated conversation with her mother.

  “Why? Why do I have to have a mother like her? Why couldn’t I have a mom like yours?” she groaned, ignoring my question.

  I sat beside her and wrapped my free arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head on my sweaty bare shoulder. “We don’t get to pick our parents, but you have the power of not treating our kids like she treats you and Bailee.”

  She was silent for a few beats. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Not treating our
kids like that?” I chuckled.

  She nodded slightly. “Yeah, but mainly the ‘our kids’ part.”

  “Me too.” I kissed the top of her head, and the room was silent again. I was thinking about FAP, and I knew she was too since we brought up children. “What did she say about the colon cancer?”

  “She doesn’t know of anyone in our family with it nor does she know anything about my father’s side.” She let out of deep sigh. “She’s worthless.”

  “Yeah, but she gave me you.” I kissed her forehead.

  She looked up at me and laughed. “I know what you’re doing.”

  I smirked. “What am I doing?”

  “You want in my pants.”

  “I always want in your pants.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, but I’m too tired. I shouldn’t have gone out last night. My body isn’t ready.”

  “But you had fun, right?”

  “I did, even when I saw Jared.”

  My body went rigid. “What?”

  She frowned. “We ran into him last night. It was no big deal.” She waved her hand, dismissing the topic.

  “No big deal?” I asked, my voice rising out of anger. “I thought you didn’t remember last night?”

  “This was before we got drunk. I ran into him, and he saw my ring,” she held up her left hand, “and he seemed jealous. I asked him about the tramp, and you know what he said?”

  My pulse was racing, and my blood was boiling. I stood as I shook my head in response.

  “That they broke up—”

  “Not helping.”

  She groaned. “That they broke up because she cheated on him. Bailee and I laughed in his face, and he left. I don’t remember seeing him after that.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  Brooke stood, reaching for my hands. “I told you that I got drunk. Bailee and I were drinking and dancing. Nothing happened.”

  “But you don’t remember,” I stated, sarcasm dripping from my words.

  “Babe, I know Jared. We hurt his ego last night, and I’m certain he left after that. I remember dancing for a long time and not seeing him. The end of the night is what’s fuzzy.”

  We stared at each other in silence. I trusted her one-hundred percent. I didn’t trust Jared, though.