Page 95 of Hale

“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 upRylie 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. Afakepiece 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