Page 25 of Secret Triplets, Second Chances

LARA

A week after the Independence Day party, on my next day off, Jake asks if we can take the kids to the lake. The night before, they’re all rowdy, even Chrys.

“When is Jake coming again?” Daffy asks, as I’m tucking her into bed, and I bite my tongue to keep from telling her that I miss Jake, too.

“Soon,” I promise before pulling out their story and insisting it’s time for them to go to sleep.

When I get to my bedroom, I text Jake, feeling like I did when I was a teenager, sneaking away to talk to him where nobody could see.

Lara: They can’t wait to see you.

I put the phone down and force myself to go into the bathroom and get ready for bed. As I wash my face, I think about him climbing over me. While I brush my teeth, I think about his scent, still lingering on my sheets.

When I come back to the bedroom and find that he hasn’t texted me back, I wonder if I came on too strong.

Then, after closing the curtains, flipping on the lamp, and sliding into bed, I see a text from him.

Jake: Me, too.

Jake: Image

Jake: Is this too much?

I tap on it, and an image loads of him holding three stuffies — one pink, one blue, one green. For too long, I stare at the picture, zoom in on his face, bite my lip and try to keep from smiling too hard.

Finally, I text him back.

Lara: No, I think it’s perfect.

“Are you sure Aster is going to be okay after swallowing so much lake water?” Jake whispers when I back out of the triplets’ room.

Sometimes, when I put them to sleep, I feel like a bomb squad technician hoping I haven’t cut the wrong wire and one of them isn’t going to come crying to the door, asking why I left.

They had a blast at the lake today, swimming and jumping around, asking Jake to throw them into the water. Obviously, I know that he’s grown in the past five years, but watching him pick them up and throw them around so easily did something to my heart.

Once they turned four, it got harder and harder for me to pick them up one at a time, let alone how Jake did, with one on each arm, walking around in the water like it was nothing.

It lit something up in my chest to know that there would be someone who could keep carrying my babies for me when I no longer could.

When I turn around and face Jake, it takes me a second to register what he’s asked and the concerned look on his face, and then I laugh. “Yeah, he’ll be just fine. Trust me, Aster has eaten worse.”

“Hmm,” Jake makes a noncommittal sound, and I practically see him making a mental note to Google whether Aster is going to get a parasite later.

But Aster has been to the lake plenty of times, and after the first time the pediatrician told me that unless he presents with symptoms, it’s not worth worrying about every little thing that might hurt him.

We’re in my apartment, the lights turned low. When I went into the triplets’ bedroom, the sun was low in the sky. I’d asked Jake if he wanted to come in with me, but he said no, and I could tell he wasn’t comfortable, not sure if he belonged and if they would be comfortable with him there.

It broke my heart.

But now the sun is fully set, the street below dark and quiet, besides the occasional meow of a hungry cat asking for more food.

“I set a bowl out,” I say when I catch Jake looking over his shoulder and out into the road. They’re not even my cats, but I feel the need to defend myself and make sure he knows I’m not starving them.

He turns to face me, and he’s so cute that it makes my heart catch in my throat.

“It’s cute,” I say, running my hand through my wet hair and dropping down onto the couch beside him, pulling my knee up to face him.

“What’s cute?”

“Just… seeing you in this phase. Thinking they’re so fragile.”

Jake laughs, and I watch as his cheeks turn pink. “Lara, no, I’m not?—”

Leaning forward, I give into the urge and touch my fingers to his jaw, watching the words die in his throat at the connection. I drag my gaze over his face, lingering on each part — nose, cheeks, dimples, stubble.

His gaze drops down to my thighs, where the hem of my shorts sits on my legs, and I see him adjust in his seat. The thought of it — of him getting hard just looking at me — it makes my core heat, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.

“It’s cute,” I repeat, to keep myself from doing something I might regret. The last thing I need is for one of the triplets to walk out here while Jake and I are in the middle of making out. “I like seeing how much you care about them.”

“Of course, I care about them,” he says, his voice hoarse. I can feel the vibration of his words through the place where my fingertips rest against his stubble. “If I’m being honest, I loved them the moment I saw them in your parents’ backyard. Maybe even when you showed me the photos.”

I want to climb in his lap.

“I want to climb in your lap so bad right now,” I whisper, and his eyes go wide, gaze darting to the triplet’s bedroom door. “I won’t,” I clarify, biting my lip. “But I want to. I thought you should know.”

He shifts again, laughing under his breath, “Thanks for that.”

I pour each of us a glass of wine, and, like we have for the duration of our relationship, we fall into easy conversation.

We talk about how Chrys had wanted to sit on the beach while Daffy and Aster were total water bugs.

We talk about my parents and the whispered praises of Jake they’d given me after he left.

“They didn’t say that,” he whispers, leaning into me.

“They so did,” I tease, pulling out my phone. “Want me to call and confirm?”

When he tries to take my phone away, we end up wrestling, laughing and tangled up together, then have to separate, the tension growing. I love my kids more than anything, but this is the first time I wish they were at their grandparents’ instead of home with me.

Jake opens up about what it was like at his dad’s funeral. How he doesn’t understand the relationship his sister had with him. How she makes comments about her dad that don’t line up with what he knows about him.

I tell him about clinicals, about how much I love being a nurse, but how happy I’ll be once I can find a permanent spot in obstetrics.

I tell him about the nurses who were so kind to me when I delivered the triplets, so unjudgmental despite how young I was, and how I’d finally known what career I wanted to pursue after that.

He tells me about how the renovation of the house is coming on, and he says he wants me to come over and pick out paint.

“Why would you want me to pick it out?” I laugh, eyebrows shooting up as I pour us each a second glass of wine.

His gaze settles on me, soft and gentle, and he says, “Because I trust your judgment, Lara.”

It turns something over in my chest, and we plan a time for me to come to the house, even though I get the feeling that it’s about something more than trusting my judgment.

I want it to be more than that, but I desperately need to stop myself from getting my hopes up.

Then I tell him about my fight with Zachery, about what it’s been like to watch my best friend coming and going.

“That’s hard,” Jake says, his hand moving lazily up and down my calf. I want to tell him to stop, that it’s making it hard for me to concentrate, but him stopping is also the last thing I want. “This might come off as harsh, but have you ever thought about finding a new best friend?”

When I pull my head back, frowning, Jake clears his throat and tries again.

“I mean — what I’m trying to say is that maybe it’s okay to have an old friend, a good friend, and a best friend, you know?

Like, maybe Zachery could be an old friend, and you could find a new friend to be your best friend.

I think the best way to move forward with him is to take what he can give you, you know?

And to find someone else here in Wildfern Ridge who can give you what you need. ”

“Jake Bradson,” I say, trying to ignore the tears stinging at the back of my eyes. “Are you asking to be my best friend?”

He opens his mouth, then seems to reconsider what he has to say and starts again. “I like Zachery — what I remember of him. And I think you were right. That maybe he was just trying to help.”

Later, when Jake is leaving, I stand in the doorway and wrap my fingers in his shirt, pulling him into a kiss that feels like it sears its way into my brain.

His hands fall to my hips, and I feel his cock hard against my belly. My hands skate up his chest, longing to be skin-on-skin.

After getting a taste of him, it’s almost impossible to let him walk away. It’s Jake who untangles us, pressing another long kiss to my forehead that feels like a promise.

When he’s gone, I pull out my phone and send two texts. The first is to Zachery, asking if we can talk. And the second to another contact in my phone.

Lara: Hey, did you still want to plan a time this weekend to grab coffee?

The girl I’ve been acquainted with since nursing school answers almost straight away.

Ellie: Yes!