Page 21

TWENTY

MARA

NOVEMBER

It had been a good long time since I woke up in unfamiliar surroundings. Even longer since the smell of coffee, bacon, and pancakes greeted me when I did. I’d been the only one generating any tasty food smells since Bryce left. I nestled down into my sweatshirt and sucked in the campfire smell. I’d usually shower and change out of a campfire-stinky shirt, but this time the smell served as a reminder of the strange romp Jack and I had.

Surely everyone watched their kid’s best friend’s dad masturbate. Surely everyone had their kid’s best friend’s dad worshiping their hips and ass. Everything that happened the night before was totally normal.

It’s totally normal to replay your kid’s best friend’s dad begging for you, whimpering your name with his hands scraping over your skin.

It’s absolutely normal to get deep satisfaction from him being so infuriated by not being able to have you that he throws his sweatshirt into a fire pit. This was all fine.

Seemingly, life was normal and fine for Hazel. She stood in her Pack and Play, singing to herself. Without Bryce around, I sometimes had her sleep in my room still. It was just easier. If she needed something in the middle of the night, I didn’t have to go shuffling off into another room. I just grabbed her and did whatever she needed. She still had more wake-ups than I’d like to admit, but here at Jack’s, she’d somehow slept all night. The exciting day must have worn her out.

“Morning, sweet girl.”

She had to have been in an enormous diaper, especially with no wakeups that whole time. She seemed unbothered by it, cooing and talking like nothing was off.

I pulled her out of the Pack and Play to change her, then rested back into the pillows to nurse her. I startled at a knock on the door. “Yes?”

Jack’s head peeked in. His eyes did a quick sweep over us, seeming unsure what to say.

“Morning?” I offered.

“Yeah. Morning. Breakfast is ready in a few. And these came for you.” He tossed a package onto the bed, along with my pants from the night before. He looked everywhere but at my face. “Figured you’d need some dry clothes. And not to rush you, but I have to take off for Raleigh in a few hours.”

“Oh, of course. We can go now,” I said.

“Nah, we’ve got some time. I’ll drop you off after breakfast.”

“Alright,” I said with a soft smirk.

His gaze finally connected with mine, assessing me. “Okay.”

He drew a breath like he’d say something else, then just squeezed in a final “yep” before he closed the door.

What did he mean by dry clothes? I had Hazel switch sides so I could lean to grab the package. I ripped the pull tab and found a four pack of cotton underwear, a slightly fancier version of the ones I had on.

Dry clothes. He was talking about my wet panties.

He was fucking with me. I got my phone off the nightstand.

And you say I’m a menace

JACK LEROY

Just trying to be a good host

Is this the fancy lingerie you meant?

That’s just what I was able to get delivered overnight. I can get much fancier than that

And all those fancy things can be yours if you just say yes

You are definitely the menace

I got Hazel dressed, used the toothbrush Jack had given me, and replayed the night before in my head.

It was kind of surprising how quickly the big tough hockey goon went submissive for me. Bratty, but submissive. Did he have a gift-giving kink or something that made him want to buy me stuff?

Jack Leroy was a bit of an enigma.

A very hot enigma. Maybe it was just that it had been a long time since I’d had any sex of any kind. But I feared more that it was the high from having him under my thumb, desperate for me.

I put Hazel on her feet once I got downstairs, walking into the living room to say hi to Aspen. I crouched and put a kiss on his head. “You end up sleeping okay?”

“Yeah. Harper and me read a book together.”

I gave him a hug, grinning because while they were getting closer, neither of them could read yet. “I love that.”

Hazel immediately started playing with some toys so I went to the kitchen to see if Jack needed help.

Of course, he immediately shrugged off my offer to help, his brows stitched together as he poured some beaten eggs into a hot pan. The sun streamed over his stubble and accentuated my side view of his eyelashes and strong nose as he focused on the stove. He wore his sweats from the night before, plus a white tee since he’d chosen to torch the sweatshirt. His hair was mussed from sleep and his bits of beard reminded me of his mouth coasting over my hip.

I cleared my throat to bring myself back to reality. “Thanks for all this. We got dinner and breakfast, huh? Trying to impress me or something?”

The tiniest smirk curled one side of his lips as he scrambled the eggs. “You think any more about it?”

I chuckled. “No.”

Like we hadn’t just been talking, he bellowed out, “Kids! Breakfast!” so loud it made me jump. “You can eat this stuff, right?”

I looked over everything. “I might go light on the eggs. I have to watch histamine. I can have some, but not a ton. And bacon is way more worth it than eggs.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “Histamine? Like allergies?”

“Sort of. It’s the mast cell stuff I told you about. My body is especially eager to dump histamine into my blood, so I have to make sure I’m not adding fuel to the fire to prevent a reaction. Sometimes it’s food that messes me up. Sometimes it’s just stress.”

“Sounds like you need a low stress job,” he deadpanned.

I rolled my eyes. “Have you thought about anything else since 9:38 p.m. last night?”

His eyes combed over me. “You gave me plenty to think about, Mara.”

The air pulsed between us, caught up in the memory of what we did. My chest flushed red as I remembered the bizarre fever dream of mutually jacking off with Jack. I probably shouldn’t have been jacking off with him while our kids slept upstairs, but . . . I don’t know. Two consenting adults, right? I was thirty-two years old. I had the right to an enjoyable sex life.

Even if it was to a guy who asked me to marry him moments before that. Guess that part made it pretty strange.

The kids rushed in, Hazel trailing after them with a toothy grin.

“Shit, I don’t have a high chair or anything,” Jack said, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s alright. She can sit with me.”

“I can hold her,” Jack offered.

I waved him off and sat at the table, pulling Hazel into my lap.

“Daddy, I wanted chocolate chip pancakes,” Jace whined. “Blueberries feel funny.”

“Sorry, bud. We’ll save the chocolate chips for cookies.” Jack turned to me. “What are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?”

I’d been wearing pretty much a constant smile, but this was the first time it dropped. This would be our first Thanksgiving with just me and the kids. “Oh, probably nothing big. A rotisserie chicken and some mashed potatoes.”

“You got family around here?” he asked, sinking his teeth into a buttered piece of toast.

“My mom and stepdad are in Georgia and my dad’s . . . somewhere.”

Jack studied me. “Is your mom coming to visit?”

“No,” I said, and left it at that. He didn’t need to know about my religious zealot parents and absent dad. “What about you? What are you doing? Any family coming in?”

“Not sure whether Sydney’s going to have these goobers,” he said, making a funny face at his kids, “but either way, we usually have a team dinner. One of my teammates had me to his house last year. Most of us don’t have family close and can’t go home.”

“Must be hard,” I said.

He shrugged. “It’s not really my holiday anyway. Canadian Thanksgiving isn’t that big a deal.”

“Oh, right. I forget yours is different.”

“You should come with us.”

I sputtered. “Oh, I couldn’t. I won’t barge in on somebody else’s party.”

He wrinkled his nose. “It’s a big loud bunch anyway.”

I lifted a corner of my lips. “Maybe.”

I was quiet for the rest of breakfast, and it seemed like Jack was letting me have my space.

It was a year full of firsts—first things alone. First things without Bryce.

Things weren’t great before he left, but I didn’t think they were bad enough for him to completely bail on us. He went to Nepal, and then I received papers a week later. No phone call to explain it. Just legal documents.

And then, I became the one and only for two kids who had a chance of turning out just like me.

Part of me thought that was the real reason he left: he’d have potentially three people with different physical needs. I get it. I didn’t sign up to have this disease. But I thought I was more than my disease. I know I am.

My eyes started to water, which surprised me. Two cries in the same twenty-four hours was rare. I usually only cried when I was in pain or frustrated if I didn’t sleep well.

Hazel brought me into the present, lunging at Jack. He took her with open arms. “Hey, Hazey Mazey,” he cooed. “Let’s wipe this little face.”

“Hazey Mazey, huh?” I asked, warmed by Jack’s budding connection with my daughter. “You two are becoming thick as thieves.”

“We’re buds, aren’t we?” he asked as she squirmed while he tried wiping her face. He softened her up with a little tickle and she crabbed at him all the same. “Oh, pfft yourself.”

She thought that was hilarious, laughing in his face.

“Watch it, kid. You’re going to make me like you.”

I sat, beaming. “I think you’ve already got him, Haze.”

Jack booped her nose. “Reminds me of when Harp was little. Friggin’ sweetie pies.”

I snuck out to the bathroom, and when I came back, Jack and Hazel were looking out the patio doors. There was a set of bird feeders that I’d missed the night before. “We have to be real quiet, Mazey,” he whispered. “Then the hummingbirds will come back.”

“Never thought you’d be a bird man,” I said.

“I never had pets growing up, so I learned birds. They’re like yard pets.”

He said it so casually, but something under there belied a desire, something he wanted but couldn’t have.

An hour later, when Jack dropped us off at my apartment, he carried Hazel’s car seat up the stairs while looking all stupid dapper in a suit again. Aspen skipped off into the house, but Jack lingered in the doorway. “Alright, well.”

“Thanks so much for having us. Aspen’s so happy.”

“It could be like this all the time, you know,” Jack tried.

I laughed and shook my head. “I barely know you.”

“You know that I’d beat anybody who crosses you,” he said with a grin that showed a tiny dimple under his scruff. “That makes me super charming.”

It was genetically unfair for him to have something as boyish as a dimple alongside rugged features like a Roman nose, an eyebrow scar, and head-to-toe tattoos. “Watch it. You’re going to make me like you,” I teased.

He rolled his eyes but kept his smirk. “Don’t lie, Mara. You already do.”

“Other way around,” I said.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Get out of here,” I said, the door in my hand. “Have a good trip.”

“See ya, Mara.”

He might have liked me, but he’d just told me he’d never love me.

And that was the problem.