I should get up, let her get cleaned up and feed her, but instead I kiss her. And it’s not long before I’m fully hard, and we're lost in each other once again.
***
My text alert goes off, waking me up from a deep sleep. Judging by the bright sunshine creeping in around the edge of the wooden blinds, I’ve slept in for a while. Yanking the charger out, I open the message. Anger bubbles up in me when I see Karlyn’s name there. Congrats on the win. Call me. Is she serious right now? I don’t respond. It’s not the first time she’s messaged me, but it is the first since the crap she pulled with Brooke. I block her number without responding, but if I know Karlyn, which unfortunately I do, that won’t stop her. She’ll realize what I’ve done, and she’ll have a new number soon enough. I make a mental note to change my number before she gets the chance.
Pulling on a pair of shorts, I go in search of Brooke. I’m not a fan of waking up and not finding her in bed next to me. Following the smell of bacon and coffee, I find her in the kitchen. The radio is on, some crappy pop song is playing, and Brooke sings along as she makes breakfast.
She’s stunning. All other thoughts flee my mind as I watch her move round my space like she’s always been here with me.
It’s not just that she looks amazing in nothing but a sports bra and yoga pants. It’s her. She’s here, in my space, making it feel more like a home than anywhere I’ve ever lived. She is my home.
Making my way over to the sound system, I find the song I’m thinking of. Pressing play, I walk over to a surprised looking Brooke.
“I was making you breakfast in bed.” She pouts, but I ignore her.
“Dance with me,” I say instead. Pulling her into my arms, I don’t give her the chance to say no. I sway us around, because actual dancing is beyond my capabilities. But that doesn’t matter because I have her in my arms as we move. Brooke wraps her arms around my neck and slides her fingers up in to my hair. Al Green sings quietly around us, but the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
It's just us. Everything I’ve ever wanted. My mind fills with pictures of us, this being our life. Not here, in this apartment; this place is too dull for my Brooke. We need a nice house, somewhere that I can talk her into giving me a couple of kids to fill it.
No, I don’t want to wait for that. I'm going to have to convince her to move in here first; I’m not willing to be apart from her anymore. We’ve wasted too much time already.
***
It's late in the afternoon when Brooke’s phone rings with an incoming call. She looks at the screen then glances at me nervously. “It’s my mom,” she tells me, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Answer it then.” I’m confused at her reaction; does she not want them to know we’re together again?
“Are you sure? I don’t want to ambush you with them. You know how my mom can be. She’s been asking to speak to you for weeks now.” She rolls her eyes playfully. So she has already told them. Fuck, it feels good to know she’s not hiding this.
“Brooke, answer the damn phone.” I can’t keep the amusement out of my voice, even when nerves kick in. I’ve not seen or spoken to her parents since I left Savannah. She nods, takes a deep breath, and swipes the screen.
“Hey, Mom.” Her face lights up as Elliott’s face fills the screen. Shit. Hearing her speak on the phone is one thing; seeing them on FaceTime is something else entirely. That’s why she was nervous. They make small talk for a minute as I try to calculate my chances at escaping before Elliott notices that Brooke isn’t in her own house.
“Yes, he’s here. Tuck, come say hi to my mom.” Brooke cuts into my planning, a cunning smile on her face. Swiping my suddenly sweaty palms on the leg of my shorts, I move to the seat next to Brooke. Why do I suddenly feel like a teenager meeting the parents for the first time?
Payback. I mouth to her as I get closer. The smile that lights her face is intoxicating.
“Oh my.” I hear Elliott breathe. “Look at that.”
“Hi, Mrs. Nash.” She looks exactly the same as she did the last time I saw her. Brooke and her twin sister look just like Elliott. All of them have the same petite features and long blonde hair. She could pass as the twins’ sister, not their mother.
“Tucker Neal, don’t you Mrs. Nash me,” she says happily through the screen. “Look who’s all grown up.” She looks over at Brooke with a grin on her face and her eyebrows raised.
“Mom.” Brooke’s exasperated warning has a small chuckle coming from all of us. I forgot about this. The easiness between the Nash family. Elliott was always so warm and welcoming to me. I’m pretty sure all the neighborhood kids had a crush on her growing up, and I was most definitely one of them. Although, I think for me it was because she was everything I thought a mother should have been. I didn’t remember mine. She was dead before I could even form memories of her. I have a few pictures, that is it. She was pretty, but her eyes, the same color as mine, looked empty in every photo. Even the ones where she held me. Growing up with my dad, I’m sure he was probably the reason for that. If he treated her half as bad as he did me, she probably felt trapped.
The conversation flows easily. There's no mention of the past. We talk about how Brooke’s
