Page 93 of King of Pain

Chance rests his free hand on my chest and says, “Mine too, Ma.”

She clasps her hands together. “So, what are the big birthday plans?”

Chance shrugs. “I don’t have anything planned other than the chocolate chip pancakes Ant’s about to feed me.”

Mary grins. “Ooh, your favorite. That was thoughtful, Anthony.”

“Actually, he has plans all day. He just doesn’t know it yet,” I say, shooting her a wink.

Chance’s head snaps toward me, eyes narrowing. “What?”

Mary clasps her hands excitedly. “Oh, Ilovethis!”

Chance keeps staring at me. “Don’t look at me like that, and no, I’m not telling you,” I tease.

Mary chuckles. “Okay, well, I’ll let you boys get to it then. I just wanted to say happy birthday and see your faces. Have fun tonight.”

Chance huffs, still staring me down. “I’m sure we will. Whatever it is.” His eyes narrow further, but I just grin.

Mary shakes her head fondly. “Alright, I want to hear all about it later. And Anthony…”

I perk up. “Yeah, Ma?”

“Promise me you’ll keep putting that smile on his face.”

Warmth floods my chest. “Yeah, Ma, I promise.”

Her expression softens before she turns to Chance. “And my son—promise me you’ll protect him like you’ve always done for me. And let him protect you, too. You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

Chance nods. “I promise, Ma. I love you.”

She smiles warmly. “I love you, son. So much. Never forget that. You’re the best thing that’s come out of my life. Now go have the best birthday ever. I love you both.”

At the same time, we both say, “Bye, Ma.”

As the call ends, the room is silent for a beat. Chance’s eyes flick to mine, full of unspoken things. My heart aches with the weight of everything he’s given me, everything I want to give him in return.

Today is his day. And I’m going to make damn sure he feels cherished.

TRACK THIRTY•SIX

More Bounce to the Ounce

Chance

Breakfast is a slow, torturous affair, mostly because Ant has decided today is the day he's going to flirt with me like his life depends on it. He knows exactly what he's doing, and he's enjoying every second of my suffering.

I'll never complain.

We eat, and I bask in the way his lips curve as he chews, the way his fingers twirl the fork absentmindedly, the way his eyes flicker with mischief when he catches me staring. But then, just as I think we're settling into a normal morning rhythm, he leans back in his chair, stretches in a way that should be illegal, and smirks. “I'll clean up the kitchen, go get that plump, hot ass ready for a day on the town. You can dress casual for now. We'll come back here to change before dinner.”

I blink at him.

Did he just—?

Ant, completely unbothered, starts stacking plates, humming like he didn't just say something that absolutely fucked my brain.

I turn toward my room, shaking my head in disbelief, when—