Page 30

Dylan

T he Vermont sun warmed the crisp morning air as Jennifer and I stepped out of a mom-and-pop shop, our arms loaded with bags of maple candies, a tacky bear-shaped mug, and a bottle of maple-infused hot sauce that was probably a crime against taste.

Her laugh, bright and unfiltered, cut through the summer air as she held up the hot sauce, eyes sparkling.

“Mark needs to taste this. It’s good, but his is better. ”

I grinned. Her joy was infectious. “He’ll probably sell it at the gift shop and send people here. People with sugar shacks tend to support one another. They have quite a community.”

“Like you and the twins.”

“The Twin Menagerie,” I said with a smile.

“Where should we go next?” she asked with excitement. “And who should we meet?”

My chest tightened from how she made even a mundane errand feel like a goddamn adventure.

This was why showing her the world had been a joy.

Jennifer had a way of seeing people, really seeing them.

After twenty minutes interviewing the shop owners for some content piece, they were practically begging her to come back for the holidays.

No matter how much my world had shifted—amnesia, accidents, twins—she was still Jennifer, making everyone feel like they mattered.

And hell, she made me feel like I did too.

Our hands brushed as we juggled the bags, her fingers grazing mine, and it was like a spark ignited. I caught her waist, pulling her close, and she nudged me playfully, teasing, “Are we staying tonight?”

I kissed her, deep and hungry, my lips claiming hers right there on the sidewalk. She melted into me, her body soft but electric, promising more later. I pulled back, smirking. “I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together.”

Her eyes danced, a wicked glint. “And naked.”

“Always.”

Fuck, I loved her. I’d not only lived life without her—I’d glimpsed eternity that way as well, and it was emptier than anything I’d ever known. Loving her had healed me, not just from the crash, but from the anger that had nearly strangled me. Every tomorrow I had left belonged to her.

“Did you hear back from Mark?” she asked, hooking one of the bags over her shoulder. “Is he coming to the resort thing?”

I checked my phone, chuckling at Mark’s latest text. “Yeah, they all are. I’ll show them how fun a ski resort can be in the summer. Might even set up some alpine slide races. You used to love a good zipline. Interested?”

Jennifer’s smile widened. “Sounds like a blast.”

I was about to kiss her again when an idea hit, reckless and perfect. “Let’s go see Alyssa before that. Just because we can.”

She raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Like now? Would we drive?”

I grinned, feeling that alpha-male rush. “If I said we could borrow my father’s helicopter, does that sound pretentious?”

“A little.” Her laugh was pure delight. “The same helicopter he always took for business? The huge one?”

“Yes, he still has it. Calls it vintage.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think you can call a luxury helicopter with private seating for business meetings vintage because it’s a decade old. He said I can borrow it anytime I want, and he has a pilot on call. Even said it’s mine if I want it.”

Jennifer smirked, stepping closer, her hand on my chest. “A hand-me-down helicopter? Sure, why not?”

I texted my father to send the helicopter. He said it would take a few hours to get to us, which was perfect—because it meant we had time for a heated round of strip Rummy back at the resort.

Back in our suite, Jennifer was hunting for chocolate. “Don’t eat too much,” I teased. “I have dessert planned.”

She turned, eyebrow arched. “What are you up to?”

I switched off the main lights, bathing the room in golden lamplight and the soft glow of a few candles. “You said you always wanted to try a sexy escape room.”

She blinked. “I did?”

“You were probably half-asleep, but yes. So, you’re locked in with me—escape depends on solving my games.”

She laughed, pure delight. “If there’s not an orgasm at the end, I’m calling customer service.”

“Oh, there will be several.” I grinned, producing a velvet pouch and a little box.

The game came with instructions we both read like the competitive little fiends we were.

After a short period of prepping for the game which involved separating with a little bag of goodies and then returning to each other, we were ready.

“Ready for the first puzzle?” I tossed her a pair of fuzzy dice. “Highest roll gets to choose who loses a piece of clothing.”

She rolled a six. “You first, hero.”

I stripped off my shirt—slowly. She whistled, then rolled again, losing her own top.

We kept playing, losing clothes, every round escalating: a striptease, a dare to kiss, to suck, to tease. When she rolled double threes, she grinned, “Your turn.”

I growled, pressing her to the bed, trailing kisses down her neck, unhooking her bra with one practiced hand. “Say please.”

She giggled, then arched her hips. “Please.”

I kissed my way lower, trailing my tongue along her belly. “Hold that thought.”

The next “puzzle” was a small, locked box. She rolled the dice—odd: she’d have to find the key hidden on me, even: I’d find it on her. She rolled a three.

She straddled me, hands skimming my chest, then my thighs, and finally, with a triumphant squeal, plucked the tiny key taped to my inner thigh. Sure, the tape removal was a little painful, but the placement was genius as far as what she lavished attention on while she was down there.

“Clever girl,” I murmured.

She opened the box—inside was a feather, a bottle of massage oil, and a note:

Winner gets to use these however they want for five minutes. The timer starts now.

She chose the oil, drizzling it on my chest, then her own. She rubbed herself against me, every inch of skin slick, hot, laughter mixing with moans. The timer buzzed—she pouted, but I rolled her over.

“My turn. Next challenge: answer my riddles, or you’re blindfolded.” She got the first: “What’s long, hard, and makes you scream?” She rolled her eyes, then her hips. “Not answering.”

I blindfolded her, relishing her gasp as I traced every inch of her with the feather.

I used my tongue, lips, fingers—never letting her guess what was coming next.

When I finally went down on her, she moaned, clutched the sheets, and called me every filthy name she knew.

Her orgasm was long and shattering, laughter mingling with breathless cries.

I kissed her thighs, whispered, “Doctor’s orders, more oral therapy.”

“I love your doctors.”

“You mean me.”

“Yes, I love you—but if this is what they’re prescribing, I suggest you don’t stop going to see them.

” She giggled, then begged me to let her see.

I removed the blindfold, rolling her on top of me, letting her take control.

She slid onto me—slow, deep, the kind of connection that made the world disappear.

We tried the final puzzle—a word lock with clues about our inside jokes—but by then, we were too far gone. She was riding me, my hands gripped tight to her ass, and the only thing either of us wanted was release.

“I give up,” she gasped. “Let’s just escape.”

“Deal,” I groaned, flipping her beneath me. We moved together, wild and perfect, laughter blending with moans. I teased her until she came again, then thrust hard, losing myself in her.

We collapsed in a sweaty, tangled heap, limbs everywhere, breathless and happy.

She looked at the unsolved puzzle box and giggled. “Epic fail. We didn’t solve a single one.”

I grinned, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Speak for yourself. I escaped with the prize.”

She swatted my ass, then pulled me close. “Let’s play again tomorrow.”

“Only if you promise to let me win once,” I teased.

“No promises, DeVoss.”

As the candlelight flickered over our tangled bodies, I realized I’d never had so much fun losing—or winning—in my life.

A long nap and a leisurely shared shower later, we were packed and waiting by the helipad.

Driving would have gotten us to Alyssa’s too late to enjoy time with her whole family, but the flight was set to arrive late in the afternoon.

Jennifer cuddled to my side for the flight, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my arm, her smile sleepy and satisfied.

After a brief flight, we landed at the Norwood helipad, where Steven was waiting with a sleek SUV. We stepped out, bags in tow, laughing about the sugary gifts we’d brought for Alyssa’s kids. Nothing says ‘I love you’ like sending someone’s kids off into a sugar high.

Alyssa’s suburban house was a riot of color and comfortable furniture. Her two girls—three and five—swarmed Jennifer like she was a rock star. I leaned against the doorframe, with love bursting in my chest as Jennifer knelt to hug them. Her ease with kids made it easy to imagine us having a family.

Thrilled by our impromptu visit, Alyssa called Ted, her husband, to grab steaks for the grill. Over stale chips and lemonade, I offered to teach the kids to ski soon. That gained me a hug from them even though I’m not sure they knew what skiing was.

When Ted returned with the steaks, we headed to the backyard and pulled up lawn chairs around a plastic pool. The girls splashed, the younger one shouting, “I’m making it a hot tub!” The other yelled, “Mom, she’s peeing in the pool again!” and we all lost it, laughter echoing.

Ted and I bonded over the grill, flipping steaks while he asked about my twin. There were no secrets between Jennifer and Alyssa and I was okay with that. She and Ted were family as well.

Alyssa and Jennifer kicked off a music-trend dance-off with the girls, their giggles pulling Ted and me in for a goofy routine.

Jennifer’s hips swayed, her eyes locking on mine, and the heat in her gaze made me want to drag her somewhere private.

She was radiant, and I was falling harder every second.

We played games, helped tuck the kids into bed with stories, and collapsed in Alyssa’s glitter-bombed guest room—smaller than my old dorm but perfect.

Exhausted, we fell asleep, glitter dusting our clothes, my arm around Jennifer.

It was the perfect little getaway for both of us.

Back at one of my resorts the next night, the suite’s glow felt like a sanctuary—firelight dancing and stars framing the mountains through floor-to-ceiling windows.

Jennifer and I curled up on a couch, a blanket draped over us, her body pressed against mine.

The sexual tension that had been simmering all day peaked as I kissed her, my hands roaming, possessive but tender.

She arched into me, her fingers gripping my shirt, but we paused, breathless and simply smiled at each other.

It felt good to be alone and like this again.

“You’re rich,” she said, her voice soft but pointed.

I nodded, expecting a tease. “Yeah.”

“No, I mean, now that you’re back with your parents, you’re not ‘I own resorts’ rich—you’re ‘I don’t have to own resorts’ rich.”

Her words hit like a revelation. I thought of my father, his decades of hard work building that wealth, and I saw it clearly for the first time. “It’s more than anyone needs,” I said, almost to myself.

Jennifer tilted her head. “Have you thought about doing anything with it? Beyond sharing it with me?”

I paused, her question unlocking something.

“My mother’s always been big on philanthropy—charity boards, foundations.

I never got it before, but now...” I trailed off, realizing I had been so focused inward—my anger, my fear of being left—that I had missed the bigger picture.

Helping others, like the twins’ network, felt right.

“Jennifer, you bring out the best in me.”

“Ditto.” Her smile shone.

I took her hand, my voice raw. “Zachary asked if I was glad he had set up the meetup with Mark. I wasn’t at first, but now I’m grateful he did.

Even with the risks. The experiment, my adoption—it’s all part of me.

I tried to write my story without it, without you, but I was wrong.

You said you were ripe to believe I’d cheat because of your father.

I was ripe to believe you’d leave, that my parents would, because deep down, I thought I was easy to leave.

My biological parents did, and I buried that fear under anger.

I didn’t see how it controlled me until my mind showed me a life without it. ”

Her eyes softened, and she snuggled closer. “You’re whole now, Dylan.”

“I am,” I said, loving the feel of her against me. “Because of you, the twins, my parents. I feel complete.”

“And shiny.” She laughed, brushing glitter off my sleeve. There was a little on everything since visiting Alyssa. “Life is good despite this glitter invasion.”

I groaned, spotting sparkles on my bag. “Whoever created glitter shares a villain’s origin story, I swear.”

Jennifer’s laugh filled the room, and I kissed her, feeling truly home. I had worked hard to rebuild the financial status I’d left behind when I’d walked away from my inheritance. I’d thought if I made enough money, I’d stop feeling like something was missing from my life.

I finally understood that no amount of money would ever have made me as happy as I was. After everything else, my life was finally full of love and laughter, loyalty and forgiveness—all the things that really matter.