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THIRTY

JAXON

One year later…

I rub my hands on the tattered napkin, trying to soak up the copious amounts of sweat. The room feels too hot, and I can’t seem to drag enough air in.

“You’re going to wear out the floor if you keep that pacing up,” Dad says, and I glance over at him, giving him a soft smile. “Why are you nervous?”

Shrugging, I force myself to stop eroding a track in the floor and sit on the sofa in the living room. “What if he changes his mind? What if he’s not sure?”

Dad smiles wide and walks over before kneeling in front of me to cup the back of my neck. “He would never to do that. Do you know how much he loves you?”

I nod because I do. No one has ever loved me as much as Wesley does.

Not only does he say it, but he also shows it.

He’s always there for me when I need a sounding board.

He spoils me. He treats me with respect.

In everything he does, I feel loved. So why am I so scared he suddenly woke up and changed his mind?

“Just…” I try to find the words, but they won’t come. I sigh. “I’m being a fool, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are,” Dad says with humor, “but that’s okay. No one heard but me. Now help me up. I’m ruining my suit.”

Laughing, I assist him off the floor and beat the wrinkles from the knees of his dress pants.

When I stand upright, Dad straightens my tie and fixes my pocket square. Eyes shining with happiness, he says, “You look great, son. Wesley will be lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Dad.” I push back the tears and give him a wide smile. “Let’s get me married.”

Wesley only proposed last month, but neither of us wanted to wait too long to belong to each other. We didn’t desire a large wedding, so we invited our close family and friends for a good ol’ fashioned backyard wedding that Dad will be officiating.

I moved in with Wesley into his haunted house after he got out of rehab the second time.

There was no big move. I just slowly brought over my things until I realized that most of my stuff was here, not in my childhood bedroom.

It also came to my attention when I showed up at my dad’s house and he was surprised to see me there.

So I gathered the rest of my stuff—two boxes—and moved into Wesley’s for good.

Now, we’re getting married, tying our lives together forever. And I couldn’t be happier.

After I duck into the bathroom to splash water on my face and straighten my tie one more time, I head outside to the side of the house.

I shake out my arms and wait until the music starts—Kas playing the wedding march on his bass guitar—then I make my way around the house to the aisle where I’ll meet Wesley in the middle.

When I lay eyes on him, I gasp. He looks fucking amazing.

Since he’s gotten out of rehab, he’s let his hair grow out. It’s pulled into a sleek man bun, showing off his beautiful brown eyes, high and flushed cheeks, his straight nose, and those plump, beautiful lips.

He’s filling out his suit very well, the time in our home gym, yoga, and eating right getting him in excellent shape.

What I really notice is his wide smile when he looks at me. Love shines from his eyes as he traces my body with his gaze.

This is what love looks like. How he’s gazing at me, I feel so loved and cherished. There’s no reason to doubt that Wesley wants this. He wants to be with me as much as I want to be with him.

We’re supposed to meet in the middle, then turn and walk down our makeshift aisle, but instead, we reach for each other at the same time and kiss sweetly. I hold on to him, putting all my love and happiness and fucking elatedness into the press of our lips.

Someone clears their throat, and we break apart, chuckling softly. I press my forehead to his. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Come on, let me make you my husband.”

“Fuck yes,” I moan, rolling my hips back to meet Wesley’s thrusts. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

Wesley grabs tighter to my waist, pistoning inside me with force. I try to keep up, but his dick is hitting places inside me only he can touch, and I collapse forward onto the bed. I hike my ass in the air, letting him pound into me as hard as he can.

“God damn,” he groans, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to leave bruises. “I’m close. Come with me, baby. I want to feel this hot hole squeezing the cum out of me.”

I grip the sheets as my orgasm builds, sending tingles down my spine.

When he bites down into my shoulder, I can’t keep my release at bay.

With a keening shout, I spray onto the sheets in front of me.

My body shudders as Wesley thrusts inside me a few more times before he stills, a ragged groan leaving his lips.

He flops onto my back, and I grunt. “You’re heavy, baby” I complain, but grab his arm to keep him from rolling off.

Wesley gathers me in his arms and turns us onto our sides to get me out of the wet spot. “Feels good to be inside you as my husband.”

I chuckle. “That’s the same thing you said when you fucked me in the limo on the way to the ferry.”

Since we said “I do” this morning, we’ve made love three times. It seems to just get better each time.

“Yeah, well, I still mean it.”

He pulls out of me, and I turn to face him, his cum leaking from my ass, but I don’t care. I like when he makes a mess out of me.

I kiss him deeply, dragging my hands through his hair.

Since I was a teenager, I dreamed about this day. Having Wesley in my arms, loving him, taking his last name. Now that it’s a reality, I don’t think I’ll ever wrap my head around it .

Breaking the kiss, I rub against the stubble on his face, smiling at how great he looks.

When I dropped him off at rehab for the second time, he appeared so defeated, so down on himself.

I spent the entire trip trying to comfort him, but he felt like a failure for his slipup.

But I knew it was something that could happen.

I hoped it wouldn’t, but I’d already told myself if it did, I would be there for him so he knew someone was in his corner.

Now, he’s stronger than ever and more sure of himself and his recovery. I’m so proud of all the work he’s put in, and I make sure I tell him often. The shy smile he gives me when I do makes the repeated phrase worth it.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him, thumbing over his jaw.

He smiles softly. “The concert next month. Can you believe it’ll be our last?”

Lana’s Mischief got out of their contract after Wes left rehab, and they decided to break up for good.

They’re still friends—brothers really—but they felt like they’ve done everything they could with albums and touring and wanted to live a somewhat normal life.

Kas got some roles in films, and Mitch wants to start his own record label, treating his artists better than their label treated them.

“Are you excited?” I ask, kissing his nose. I swear, since we said our vows, I can’t keep my hands off him.

“Yeah. Especially about all the proceeds going to at-risk youth.”

About six months ago, Wesley was approached by a talk show about doing an exclusive interview to discuss his addiction and how he overcame it.

He was reluctant at first but did it, speaking about his early life and what started him on drugs.

He said he was nervous about people knowing what happened to him, but if sharing his story would help one kid come forward for themselves or their friends like I did for him, it was worth it.

There was an influx of calls for child abuse and neglect because of his interview, and many of the kids were able to get out of their terrible situations.

Now Wesley is interested in helping in the shadows, doing fundraisers, setting up scholarships, and donating as much of his money and time as he can. I’m so fucking proud of him and how far he’s come.

“It’ll be great,” I say. “One more concert, then you’re all mine.”

“Well, yours and the job Mitch is giving me as a songwriter and producer for his record label.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, that too. I’ll have to talk to him about not letting me keep my husband to myself for a few months.”

He smiles widely at me. “I’ll never get over you calling me your husband. When we met all those years ago, did you think it was possible?”

“I didn’t, but I’d hoped. When you came back into town and wanted to keep seeing me, I hoped we’d end up here. Now I can love and cherish you for the rest of our lives.”

“Like I will you. Starting with gazing up at the stars from our bed.”

Both Wesley and I couldn’t think of a better place to spend our honeymoon. Lying in our yurt, tangled in each other while we stargaze.

After we change the sheets and Wesley opens up the skylights, we climb back into bed, my head resting on his chest. “I love you so much, Wesley Morgan.”

“I love you too, Jaxon Morgan.”