Across the river… I reckoned he’d been in Arlington or Alexandria, then.
I knew it was way too early for Riv and me to worry about the fact that Shay’s dream home might always be in DC. Much, much too soon for us to think about that. In fact, it was ludicrous. And yet… Motherfucker.
This relationship nonsense with all its irrational thinking and feeling was horseshit.
* * *
After a cancelation on a guest room booking, today became the first in a while that we didn’t have any members staying over. Not in the main house anyway. Even Tate and Ivy had returned to the city.
Shay showed up around four, and we spent a few hours in and around the pool, taking it easy, hashing out Saturday plans, and I did my best to just enjoy the moment. When I failed miserably because our boy happened to be fucking amazing, I headed back to our cabin for a cold shower.
Focusing on our kink dynamic wasn’t the easiest when he insisted on being so goddamn sweet and funny.
It was a noticeable change whenever he came back from spending time with his brothers. Shay was coming into his own and relaxing in our relationship. He wasn’t reserved whatsoever anymore, and he was cuddly and…just imperfectly perfect.
I’d thought Riv and I were supposed to bring the mindfucks into our dynamic, but Shay had his way of making our brains spin too.
As I stood between our bed and the dresser, stepping into a pair of boxer briefs, I heard the door open downstairs.
“Daddy?” Shay called.
“Just getting dressed, sweetheart. What’s up?”
“Colt said that you and he play guitar together sometimes. Can y’all do that after dinner?”
Oh. It’d been a while. I’d have to tune mine. “We can give it a go, but I might be rusty.” I pulled on a white tee, then reached for a pair of River’s cargo shorts to borrow.
“Colt says you’re awesome at it!” Shay responded in triumph. “I’ll go tell the others!”
I smiled at his enthusiasm and buttoned up my shorts. Time to give the newborn head case in me a damn rest. Shay hadn’t given me any reason to actually worry. The opposite.
Fourteen
Shay Acton
I wanted to save this evening and play it on repeat for the rest of my life.
I didn’t even mind that it was country music Daddy and Colt were playing. If anything, it was the perfect genre to let their whiskey voices and Southern drawls shine.
With only some candles lit between us—except for a dimmed-down porch light—it was as close as I’d gotten to experiencing a bonfire on the beach. Reese and Colt occupied the chairs across from River and me, and they were seriously amazing on guitar, both of them. Not to mention their singing. There was nothing amateur about it.
After taking a sip of my soda, I scooted closer to River and hugged my knees to my chest.
At the moment, Colt and Daddy were just tinkering and trying to decide on the next song.
“Daddy, you have a more pronounced accent now,” I noted.
He smirked faintly and eyed River.
“We lost our accents years ago,” River murmured. “Comes out when we’re drunk, basically.” And when Daddy was playing.
“You’re not from NoVa?” I’d thought they were local, despite years living in all sorts of countries. I’d learned that they had lived on all the major continents.
“We have four proper Southerners in our group of friends,” Colt informed me. “These two—even though they don’t always deserve to bear the title—Walker, and yours truly.”
Colt was the most obvious one. Walker—well, to be honest, I hadn’t heard much from him before River had put headphones on me, but I did remember he’d sounded more Southern than anything else.
River smiled and fished out his smokes. “We’re from the backwoods of Virginia. Small no-name place near Roanoke.”
“Then we moved to Nashville when we were four,” Reese said.
River lit up two cigarettes. “To Charlotte when we were nine.” He handed me one of the smokes, and I snuck a sheepish grin at Daddy, who narrowed his eyes playfully.
I’d been good all day, though!
“And to Virginia Beach before high school,” Daddy finished.
Damn. “That’s a lot of moving around.”
Suddenly, a bunch of questions piled up. I wanted to know about their childhood.
“What’s the improper South, then?” River asked Colt.
Colt grinned. “Anythin’ north of Richmond. And Florida, of course.”
I snickered and took a drag from my smoke.
“Of course,” Daddy agreed with a laugh. “That settles the next song.” He played the first notes of a new song, and Colt recognized it right away.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the lyrics. It was a funny song about being rednecker than others. About Slim Jims, dirt roads, hauling hay, and loud trucks.
Daddy looked happy. I couldn’t stop smiling at him, like I was some idiot. He was just so beautiful and sexy and everything.
Keeping my voice down, I spoke without disturbing our entertainment.
“What made you move around so much growing up?” I asked River.
“Our mother, for the most part,” he replied quietly. “She was a teacher, and she had to go where the jobs were.”
Made sense. “She was a teacher?”
He nodded with a dip of his chin. “She died of cancer when we were sixteen.”
Fuck. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago, and we weren’t always on good terms.” He leaned over and kissed my shoulder. “Similar story with Pop. He’s a long-hauler, still alive, but we don’t talk.” His smile turned rueful. “We all loved one another—we just didn’t like each other very much. It was all right when we were still kids, but as we grew up and didn’t wanna separate our beds, Pop got angry.”
He might say it with a dose of humor, but I saw through it. It wasn’t funny at all.
Having gotten to know the Tenley twins more, I saw their bond as something to cherish. It was beautiful
