Cross-Checked (Boston Rebels #3)

Bonus Epilogue

McCabe & AJ

McCABE

Two years later

Lake Winnipesaukee, NH

The early morning light streams through the windows of the tiny house that sits at the edge of Colt’s property on Lake Winnipesaukee. From the long window above the head of our bed in this loft, I can see the sunlight reflecting off the water, sparkling as the small waves move across the surface.

I never thought I’d be a lake guy, but honestly, the tranquility of nature has really grown on me: spending our days with our closest friends, watching the kids play in the water at the shore’s edge, or taking them out on one of the boats, and seeing AJ truly relaxed as she spends time with her girlfriends. Then coming back for huge family dinners and putting the kids to bed before sitting around the fire pit at night—it’s exactly the type of family experience I wanted for Abby.

My little girl isn’t related to Jameson and Lauren’s kids, or Drew and Audrey’s kids, but she thinks they’re her cousins just the same. And since I watched AJ walk down the aisle to me at the end of this season, and after Sloane and my nieces moved to Boston, Abby’s truly growing up with the family I always wanted her to have. I’ve never been happier, or more scared.

Folding my arms under my pillow so my chin is propped up as I scan the lake, I think about how, in two weeks we’re going to welcome two more girls into this world. We were lucky to find a surrogate willing to try for multiples, since the doctors told us our best shot for having one healthy baby was to start with at least two embryos.

“Hey,” my wife whispers as she rolls over to face me, her dark hair messy from how we were tangled up together last night before falling asleep. “What time is it?”

“Early,” I say.

“Is Abby awake?”

When we’re at the lake, Abby sleeps in the small bedroom tucked into the corner of the downstairs, next to the small bathroom. The concept of this tiny house is great, and it worked well for Colt and Jules last summer while their huge lake house was being built.

But the layout is hard with a three year old who wants to stay awake if she can hear her parents in the living room that’s only feet from the bedroom door. And our bed in an open, lofted area doesn’t afford a lot of privacy, either.

“No, not yet. But I need to get up soon. I told Drew I’d drive into town with him this morning so he can go to the marina and get something for the boat.”

She wraps her arm around my lower back, pulling me closer, and in her low, sultry voice she asks, “You sure Colt or Jameson can’t go with him instead?”

“I don’t know why, but he asked me. Felt like the least I could do since they take us out on their boat almost every weekend.”

Drew bought his lake house two years ago and subdivided the property, selling half to Colt so he could build a house for Jules, and their wives could spend their summers together up here. Jameson and Lauren come up with their girls often, and stay over at Drew’s place.

Colt and Jules, still very much in the newlywed phase and enjoying having their new house to themselves, were kind enough to offer us their tiny house whenever we want to use it. The two of them are sickeningly in love and can’t keep their hands off each other—I’m afraid of what I’d accidentally walk in on if we stayed in their house with them, so this tiny house works well enough for now.

She looks at her watch. “Nothing’s open at six in the morning.”

“Believe it or not, the boating shop opens at seven. But I don’t have to leave for at least half an hour.” I press my lips to the top of her head. “You should go back to sleep before Abby gets up.”

Her chest shakes against mine as a low rumble of laughter tumbles out of her. “Like I could fall asleep with your huge, hard dick pressing into my stomach like that.” She lifts her leg, curling it around my ass and scooting up the bed to line herself up with me.

“I wasn’t trying to wake you up for morning sex before I head out, you know,” I tell her, tracing the line of her jaw with my thumb as my eyes focus on those wide, pouty lips. I used to spend hours imaging what those lips tasted like, and how they’d feel on different parts of my body. Knowing has only made me like her lips even more.

“We’re about to have three kids under three. We’ll be outnumbered and exhausted, and then hockey starts up again in two months. This is our summer of sex, remember? We’re not saying no to any opportunities.”

It was AJ’s suggestion that we have sex as often as possible this summer, before the babies are born. And while I’m as attracted to her as I’ve ever been and obviously want to have sex with my wife, I’m starting to wonder if there’s a limit to how often she wants me to fuck her. Because we’re up to at least twice a day, sometimes more on the lazy lake days where Abby goes down easily for a nap.

“You know, I’m starting to wonder if you’re just using me for my cock,” I tease before pressing my lips to the bridge of her nose.

She pushes up, flipping me onto my back as she settles her knees along my sides and slides her already slick pussy right along my length. “I’m sorry that I want my husband so badly.” Her voice has a taunting tone that has me driving my hips up, sliding along her.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Sunshine.” I place my thumbs on her hips and cup her ass in my hands as I lift her enough to slide into her. “Now ride me like a good little wife.”

Her gaze never leaves mine as she plants her hands on my chest and starts moving her hips with me inside her. And seeing her tits bounce where they’re pressed between her biceps makes me crave even more contact.

“Grab me some pillows, yeah?” I say, sitting up so she can set more pillows behind my back. Once I’m propped up, she plants a hand behind my head and my face is at the perfect level to worship her breasts with my tongue. I woke up so hard I’m not going to last long, so I need to bring her right along with me.

Her breathy sighs when my lips close around her nipple are replaced by low moans as I gently suck, running my tongue over her hardened peak. Bringing one hand up, I roll her other nipple between my fingers as I slide my other hand between us, my thumb finding her clit. It doesn’t take much pressure before I feel the telltale signs of her orgasm—the way her inner walls tighten, the way she holds her breath and then gasps.

“Yes, oh my god, yes,” she whispers, head titled back and eyes screwed shut tight as she comes apart for me.

“You remember when you told me you couldn’t come with me inside you?” I ask, thinking back to that first night we had sex in a hotel room in Philadelphia. We’ve come so far since then, and I will never, ever tire of this woman. She has made my life better in every single way.

“Luckily you keep proving me wrong, over and over again,” she says, looping her arms over my shoulders and sinking down on me, taking me as deep as I can go, and clenching her entire core around me repeatedly.

“Holy shit, Alessandra, what are you doing to me?” The rhythmic pulsing of her pussy as she grips my cock with her muscles has me ready to tip over the edge.

“Kegels,” she says with a laugh. “Now stop asking questions”— she circles her hips as she squeezes me repeatedly—“and fucking come inside me.”

My hands slide up her back and I wrap my fingers over her shoulders, pulling her to me so we’re fused together as I pour myself into her. “I love you so much. There’s no realm of existence where we weren’t meant to end up together. You, me, our kids, this life . . .” I pause as the last shudder moves through my body. “ . . . it’s fucking perfect.”

Her body goes limp around me when I’m done, and I hold her close, thanking the universe for bringing us together.

And that’s when we hear the knock, and Abby’s little voice. “Hello? Daddy? Mommy?”

AJ’s head rears back and we stare at each other in open-mouthed shock. Abby’s always called her AJ. “Did she just . . .?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” I can feel my grin practically splitting my face in half.

She glances down where our bodies are still joined together as Abby knocks on her bedroom door again, clearly wanting to be let out of her room downstairs.

“When people ask about the first time she called me Mommy, let’s not mention this part of it.” We both laugh as she lifts herself off me.

“You want to get her?”

“Uhhh, let me slip into the bathroom and clean myself up while you get her. I’ll be right out.” She uses my boxers to wipe herself up before she grabs her t-shirt off the floor and slips it over her head.

Abby knocks again, calling us both as I quickly clean myself off, and grab a fresh pair of boxers and shorts from the drawer of the low dresser that runs alongside the bed.

When I open her door, she’s standing there with her hair in tangles and her overnight diaper so full it’s practically hanging off. “Where did your pajamas go, silly?” I ask as I scoop her up and carry her back to her bed to change her.

“No pajamas. Like you,” she says as she pats my bare chest.

“Well Uncle Drew is going to be here in a little bit, so let’s get your big girl overnight underwear off,” I say, because she won’t wear it if we call it a nighttime diaper, “and some clothes on you.”

Her face scrunches up. “I want Mommy do it.”

“Mommy, huh?”

“Mommy is better.”

I try not to laugh. When it comes to kids, my wife has endless patience. Where I get frustrated with Abby’s non-stop squirming while I try to change her, the tantrums when she doesn’t get her way, and the constant questions about “why,” AJ takes it all in stride.

“Well Mommy is in the bathroom,” I tell her.

“I wait,” Abby says and crosses her arms, a scowl creasing her face.

This time I actually do burst out laughing, and then AJ’s hand lands on my shoulder as she steps up behind me in the small room, giving me a little squeeze as she says, “Oh look. She’s you.”

“How the hell did you find out about this place if it’s not even on the market yet?” I ask Drew as we pull down the driveway to the house on the other side of his.

“It’s been vacant all summer, but then I saw the owner here yesterday so I went over to chat with him. Turns out he and his wife got divorced and neither of them want the house, so he is up here getting it ready to go on the market.”

“And he agreed to let us see it before he lists it?”

“Well, his real estate agent is going to be here too.”

I glance at the dashboard and see that it’s not even 7:30AM. “Awfully early for an open house.”

I didn’t lie to AJ about heading into town for a stop at the marina, I just didn’t mention that I was going to look at a lake house on the way home. I know she loves it up here, and we’ve talked about eventually buying a place but with the twins coming in a few weeks, we didn’t feel like this summer was the right time to start house hunting. However, when something like this practically falls into my lap, I at least have to put eyes on it.

“I think it’s because I said the magic words,” Drew says.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Cash offer.”

My chuckle fills his Jeep. “So you committed me to buying this place for cash, if we want it?”

“I know what you and AJ make. Why wouldn’t you?”

“We just finished a big renovation at home, in case you forgot why we lived up here for most of the summer?”

It’s funny how, a couple years ago, I was wondering if I should buy the condo across the hall, knock down the shared wall, and make it into one massive home for Abby and me. What if I had? What if Trevor hadn’t tried to fuck with my contract, and I’d already signed to three more years in Boston? Would I have bought that place, instead of AJ? And if I had, would any of this have ever happened between us?

As it turns out, AJ agreed that combining our places made perfect sense. We now have a much larger living room, an office for AJ, two primary suites, and four bedrooms. And Suzanne, the woman we hired as a nanny for Abby and who has committed to staying with us for the next few years now that we’re having the twins, has her own space in the second primary suite when she needs to stay at our place while we’re traveling.

“Like that bankrupted you.”

I glance at Drew in time to see him roll his eyes, but there’s no time to respond because we catch sight of two men—one in his late fifties and the other much younger—standing on the wide front steps of the lake house as we reach the end of the driveway.

After some brief introductions, the realtor takes us inside and walks us through the property. It’s a large A-frame home with wood-paneled walls and ceilings, and hideous green carpet. But there are four bedrooms, three upstairs and one downstairs, along with a bathroom on each floor. The first floor would be really nice if we opened up the wall that divides the kitchen from the living area, so we could see the amazing lake view through the floor to ceiling windows.

It has so much potential, but it feels like another huge home project after we just finished one and swore we’d never do another. The home renovation PTSD is real.

Then again, we could have the work up here done over the winter while we’re in Boston, and finish up by next summer. This hockey season is likely going to be my last, but having our own place up here means we could keep cultivating these friends-that-have-become-family connections long after I’m done playing.

Out on the back deck, we talk numbers with the realtor while I keep half an eye on the two properties to the right of the house, making sure no one is outside. There’s no way to keep an outdoor conversation private in a cove like this, especially with the way sound carries over water.

The number the seller is hoping for is reasonable given the amount of work the place needs. Affording it isn’t the issue, but convincing AJ that we can take on a project like this when we’re about to add two little newborn members to our family might be.

“Alright, I’m very interested,” I tell the agent, “ but I need to talk to my wife. Can you draft up an agreement with the deposit amount we talked about and email it to me?”

“Of course,” he says. “It’s not going on the market for another 48 hours, so let me know if you want to make an offer before then.”

“Will do.” I’ve already decided that as long as this place passes inspection, I want it. Even if this isn’t the right time. Even if I have to buy it now and surprise my wife later. Because whether she feels ready to take on another renovation now or not, she will love having this house in the future. Maybe I’ll talk to Jules and Audrey and see if, with their design input, I can renovate this place and surprise AJ in the spring.

When Drew and I get back to his Jeep to make the very short drive home, I ask the question that’s been percolating in the back of my mind since he told me about this place last night. “Jameson and Lauren didn’t want this house?”

“I didn’t offer it to them,” he says, and my head turns in disbelief.

“Why not?”

“Because they aren’t up here as much as you guys are. They spend a lot of their time over at Blackstone,” he says, referencing the ski resort Lauren’s best friend, Jackson, owns with her husband Nate. Another of her best friends, Sierra, is married to her brother, Beau, and they live in Blackstone and help run the mountain, too. “They’re not the ones talking about wanting to buy a place up here.”

“I still feel like you should make sure they aren’t interested. This would be a great family compound, three houses in a row like this. How do you pass that opportunity up?”

“And you don’t consider yourself family?” Drew asks as he looks over his shoulder before he puts the car in reverse, turning us around so we can head up the driveway to the private road.

“I’m just saying that there are only two other houses on this cove. So if the Flynns all wanted houses together like this, I’d feel like a dick if I stepped in and bought this one without giving Jameson the chance to pass it up first.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to him. But I’m pretty confident that he’ll be happy to let you guys have it.”

Drew sounds like he knows something I don’t, but I don’t press him on it because we’re already turning from the road to his driveway when a text comes through.

Sunshine

OMG, Lindsay is in labor. How soon can you be back here?

“Fuck.” I don’t know if it’s good or bad that she’s gone into labor naturally, two weeks before they were going to induce her. This means the babies are only thirty-four weeks, which for a single baby would be fine, but for twins likely means time in a special care unit.

“What’s wrong?” Drew’s voice is worried.

“Lindsay’s in labor. We need to get back to Boston immediately.”

“Okay, stay calm,” Drew says, and I know he’s done this before and they’ll be doing it again in a few more months when Audrey has their third. But shit, how does he expect me to stay calm when we’re two hours away from the woman carrying and about to give birth to our babies? “These things take time. She probably won’t have these babies until tonight, at the earliest.”

“Unless there’s something wrong and they do a C-section.” I know that the obstetrician had hoped to avoid that route, but if she’s already in labor it might be necessary. I don’t know.

Drew skips to a stop on the gravel driveway. “Give me a few minutes and we’ll come up with a solution.”

“You going to figure out how to teleport us to Boston?” I ask.

“No. I’m going to tell Jameson what’s going on, because you know he’ll have it all figured out in like five minutes.”

I glance at him before hopping out of the car. “You know, sometimes you’re really smart.” And then I’m running down the side of the house and across the lawn to the tiny house along the far tree line.

When AJ sees me through the glass front door, she rushes out to meet me on the steps. She’s got Abby in her arms, and she folds herself into me and her whole body shutters.

“Her water broke and she said something about the amniotic fluid. They’re doing a C-section as soon as an operating room opens up. God Ronan, she sounded so scared when she called me.”

Wrapping my arms around the two of them, I remind her, “We’re well past the 32 week mark, and the doctors said that means we’re in the safe zone. She’s going to be okay, and so are our girls.”

“I know. I just . . .” She stands, and Abby reaches up and slides her chubby hand through the tears marking AJ’s cheeks. “. . . I thought we had more time. And what if they’re born before we can even get there?”

“That doesn’t change anything. All that matters is that they’re going to be okay.” Even as I say it, I have to will myself to believe it. I want us to be there for the birth of our babies as much as she does. And now, we might miss the whole thing. But as long as the girls are healthy, that’s really all that matters.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, glancing at the message.

“You’re checking your texts right now?” AJ’s voice is incredulous.

I hold out my phone so she can read the message.

Drew

Jameson has a seaplane ready to fly you to Boston. You leave from the marina in 30 minutes. He’ll have a car meet you at the harbor in Boston and take you to the hospital.