Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Blue
I t’s late, and with how West’s voice carries down the hallway, it’s safe to assume the call with Joss isn’t going so well.
Carrying two bottles of water and a bowl of grapes, I sidestep a stack of unpacked boxes near the door. When I push into our bedroom, the space is thick with emotion, and I hate this. Having our dream playing out in real time, right before our eyes, only to have our return home completely washed out by Pandora’s resurrection.
It doesn’t surprise me to find West pacing in front of the sliding door, wearing a path in the carpet. With the curtains pushed back, light from beneath the pool’s surface beams in, outlining his frame in turquoise. Even through the darkness, the tension and hard lines of his chest and shoulders are apparent.
“So, what would you like for me to do?” Joss’s voice pours into the room when West switches to speakerphone. Her tone is sharp and there’s so much tension. Makes me wonder what heated discussion I missed during my trek to the kitchen.
West blows out a slow breath, then moves a hand through his hair before responding.
“I’m not frustrated with you, I’m just… frustrated in general .” He starts pacing again, and I don’t miss how he winds his shoulder counterclockwise to loosen it. Watching him, I’m taken back in time, remembering the moment he was injured so clearly—the final game of the season before last. One devastating blow made the entire future of his career flash before his eyes, resulting in major surgery and what everyone called a miraculous recovery. So, even if it didn’t still give him trouble every now and then, we’ll never ever forget.
But as a result of the trauma, whenever he gets worked up and tense, it throbs like the injury happened just yesterday.
“Fuck!”
I flinch when he yells, feeling a chill race down my back, but Joss doesn’t seem the least bit affected. Needless to say, her high-stakes role in the industry has made her skin thicker than mine will likely ever be.
“Listen, I don’t like this any more than you do,” she reasons, “but we’ve been through this before, so we know how it goes. Not to mention, Pandora’s gotten savvy during her hiatus, so now’s not the time to lose focus.”
“What do you mean she’s gotten Savvy?” West lowers his head after asking. “Hell, do I even want to know?”
“Probably not, but it means what she said about the app being available nationwide was real. Yeah, she posts on her social media accounts, but we know she always uploads to the app first. I figured I’d better get whatever advantage I can, so I re-downloaded it.”
My stomach turns hearing Joss say that, because it means we’ll likely all have to download it. If our lives are being shared with the entire country, we sure as hell can’t afford to be the last to know what’s being said. Still, the thought of seeing that black and pink, tiger-print icon on my phone again makes me want to fucking scream.
“The interface looks the same, but there’s been a major system update. The biggest change seems to be that the geofencing limitations have been lifted.”
“In English, please?” West grumbles.
“It means the app is no longer just being served to users in Cypress Pointe and the surrounding cities. Now, anyone in the U.S. can download it and upload shit directly to this bitch. Instead of the IP limitations being restricted to local zip codes, it’s been expanded to the whole country. Coast-to-coast, just like she said,” Joss sighs. “And I’m sure I don’t need to explain why this is a PR nightmare in the making.”
She sounds almost as tense as West looks , and I don’t envy her. Working in the field of media and communications has been her dream for as long as I’ve known her. So, once our guys went pro, tightening her focus to public relations only made since. But I’m guessing when she launched her PR firm in Texas, taking on all three of the Golden boys, she never imagined we’d one day be walking back into a shitstorm like this.
“So, what are our options? Where do we go from here?”
As soon as the question leaves West’s mouth, he starts working that shoulder again, for the umpteenth time today. Instead of watching him deal with the pain on his own, I’m on my feet the next second, leaving my comfy spot on the edge of the mattress where I’ve been snacking on grapes for the last few minutes. I drag the chair from the corner of the room, placing it in the middle of West’s path. We lock eyes when he halts, and I motion for him to sit. Surprisingly, he doesn’t make me ask twice, and the moment he lowers onto the cushion, my hands are on his shoulders. The right one is tight and hot to the touch, and I feel the thick scar there beneath my palm. A sigh of relief leaves him as I gently work my fingers into his tense muscles, and I’m glad he’s starting to relax.
“You guys have the introduction press conference scheduled next week. If someone steps out of line and brings any of this up, your instructions are to remember that you’re in control of the conversation. So, to avoid calling any undue attention to yourself, address the statement as concisely as possible, and do not allow the discussion to escalate. You have an image to maintain, West. And trust me, your sponsors and brand endorsements will be watching. They always are,” she warns. “Once you’ve spoken your piece about it, move… the fuck… on. Do not engage any further. And to make sure you don’t get caught up, immediately take another question. This is the same advice I gave Dane and Sterling.”
“Fine, but I’m guessing you already saw Ira Woods’ column. No doubt that asshole is gonna be there.”
At the mention of the column in question, I instantly regret not taking West’s phone away tonight. The last thing he needed was to scroll past some rookie sportswriter’s drivel, spouting unsolicited bullshit. Ira mostly focused on badmouthing Coach Wells’ decision to bring the Goldens back to Cypress Pointe, arguing that it’s delusional to think the guys will still play as cohesively together now as they did in high school and college. He seems to think their individual approaches to the game have evolved. So much that it would render this entire acquisition a waste of time.
Which is total bullshit.
“I did see it, unfortunately, and you’re right,” joss sighs. “He’ll definitely be there. It’s what I’d do if I was new on the scene, trying to stand out and make a name for myself. But don’t focus on him. He’s small-time and doesn’t have much reach beyond the city. Pretty sure he’s just riding the wave of negativity Pandora stirred up.”
“Fucking perfect.”
Joss ignores West’s grumbling and makes him a promise. “I’m gonna do my best to smoke Pandora out, but I don’t imagine it’ll be that easy. She knows we had the means to shut her down last time, so I’m guessing she went out of her way to cover her tracks this time.”
“Yeah, but what I don’t get is why now? It’s been five damn years.”
Joss lets out another breath, and she sounds even more stressed than she’s been with the wedding planning. Which is saying a lot.
“Honestly, it could be as simple as what she mentioned in her first post. That seeing us getting back to our roots has made her decide it’s time she did the same.”
I take West’s silence to mean he isn’t a fan of that response, but Joss is probably right, and it’s all we have to go on for now.
“You’ll know more as soon as I know more,” she promises.
“Thanks. Talk later.”
“Good night.”
The call ends, and the silence in the room is so loud. I’m at a loss for words, not quite sure what to say. West is raw, angrier than I’ve seen him in a long time, and I don’t want to say anything to add fuel to the fire, but I’m filled to the brim, too.
With emotions.
With thoughts of how screwed up this has all been.
But instead, I hold it in, focusing on working the knots in West’s neck and shoulders.
“It feels like we’re living in an alternate universe,” he says, letting his head fall back.
I lean forward and kiss his forehead, lifting my hands to massage his temples. “Well, wherever this is, or whatever obscure timeline we’ve been shifted to, at least the universe did us a solid and brought us here together.”
He smirks at that. “That’s one way of looking at it, I guess.”
“We’ve weathered this storm before, and we can do it again.”
“Yeah, but we shouldn’t have to,” he shoots back. “I fucking hate this. The hold she always seems to have on us. The feeling of being just one post away from her ruining everything, taking away everything we’ve worked so hard for, everything we’ve fought for.”
“At the end of the day, the only real power Pandora wields over us is the power to annoy us to death,” I say with a laugh. “It’s not like back in the day, when we were trying to keep our secrets close because it was literally a matter of life and death. Now, we’re all living out in the open—nothing to hide, nothing to run from, which means there’s nothing she can scandalize. Not anymore. So, yeah, it sucks that she’s trying to start shit with you and the team, or between Sterling and Lexi, but these are all things that can be resolved with mature conversations. That kind of damage can be repaired. So, if you think about it, what’s the worst that can honestly happen?”
“Famous last words,” West grumbles, then he's quiet again.
I suspect he’s either pondering what I’ve said, or my simple take on the situation has gotten under his skin a little. However, it’s all true. Pandora has absolutely zero leverage.
“I need to text Sterling,” he says under his breath, immediately unlocking his phone. After tapping his thumbs over the screen a few seconds, he lowers it again, but now that he’s mentioned Sterling, my thoughts have shifted to Lexi.
“I can’t believe that bitch outed the engagement like that. Dropping that on Lexi was…”
“It was fucking ruthless,” West cuts in, stealing the words right out of my mouth.
“Yeah.”
We’re both quiet again, and all I can think about is that look on Lexi’s face. Yes, she was pissed about how it all went down, but more than that, she was heartbroken.
West blows out a breath, then reaches for my wrist, kissing the back of my hand as he pulls me from behind him. I stand between his parted knees, and when his head falls to my chest, I feel the weight of all he’s carrying.
“I need to hear something good,” he sighs. “Did you like any of the houses Rebecca emailed over?”
I push my fingers through his hair. “No, but I did like one of the potential locations for the center. There’s some work to be done, but it has everything I need—office space, a large rec area, rooms that can easily be converted into classrooms. It’s actually kind of perfect.”
I zone out imagining the space transformed, filled to the brim with kids whose lives mirror my own childhood. All I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is to provide them with a safe space, an alternative to being on the street, getting into trouble.
West moves me onto his lap before sinking deeper into the chair. My body slumps into his as we stare out at the pool.
“That’s amazing,” he says, and without even looking up, I hear the smile in his voice. “So, what’s next? Do we have her get us in to see it?”
“Well, before we do that, I’d like to drive by and make sure the energy feels just as good in person as it did in the email.”
West chuckles and the vibration of it moves through my body. “Okay… I guess that’s a thing.”
“It’s definitely a thing, so maybe we’ll swing by once things slow down.”
A kiss presses to the side of my face, and for the first time since our plane landed, things feel somewhat normal.
“We’ll go whenever you’re ready,” he says. “And in the meantime, maybe we should get more specific on what we’re looking for in a house.”
“Ok, so let’s tighten up our list.”
He’s quiet while he thinks for a bit. “You’ll definitely need office space, and either a huge garage or enough property for me to add one.”
Laughing, I roll my eyes, because that’s a given. Collecting classic cars has been his passion since we met, and nothing’s changed.
“Duh,” I tease. “What else?”
“Finished basement,” he rattles off, “a pool, a good amount of extra bedrooms, so we don’t have to worry about outgrowing it.”
And just like that, the smile on my lips starts to slip. It’s at the mention of outgrowing our future home. I’d never want to make him feel like he isn’t free to express himself, but it kills me a little every time he gets his hopes up.
His arms tighten around me. “What’s wrong?”
Of course, he noticed. The man knows me like the back of his hand.
“It’s—”
“If you say it’s nothing, I swear I’ll toss your ass right into that freezing cold water,” he threatens, drawing a laugh from me as I gaze out the window toward the pool.
“I…”
My words trail off because I know he doesn’t want the dismissive answer. He wants the real answer. The one I’m not quite sure how to put into words.
“West… what if I can’t do this? What if we try, and try, and it just never happens?”
I’m breathless when I’m done, feeling the weight of it all. The dream was to have a houseful—four or five little ones driving us crazy, running us ragged. But it never even crossed my mind that we couldn’t.
That I… couldn’t.
The ability to be a mom was something I took for granted, long before it was time to seriously consider it. I just assumed it would happen when we wanted it to happen, and it would be easy. Only, in reality, it’s been anything but that.
West’s turns me by my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes before he speaks.
“Blue Golden, you’re enough for me. You, and you alone,” he adds, and when a tear slips down my cheek, he kisses it away.
I take a breath, then speak my thoughts out loud. Thoughts I’ve had for several weeks now but kept them in for fear of somehow bringing bad juju on myself.
“I think I’m ready to try again.” I fall silent, and my heart races, because I’m desperate to block out the past. “We can reach out to one of the local specialists we researched before the move. If you’re up to it,” I add quickly, wanting him to know there’s no pressure. The past treatments weren’t only difficult for me. They were rough on him, too.
He kisses my cheek again, and when he pulls away, there’s a smile on his lips. “If you’re ready to try again, we’ll try again.”
I study his face for a moment, needing to know he’s truly on board and not just saying what he thinks I want to hear. But the longer I stare, the clearer it becomes that he’s meant every word.
I let myself imagine it, trying again, having our family and friends here to lean on when we get in our heads. Or when I have a hard day and can’t motivate myself to get out of bed. I’m comforted knowing this time won’t be like the last.
Dark.
Lonely.
There’s a spark of hope that I force myself not to quench, remembering that it’s okay to be optimistic. It’s okay to imagine how good the future can be. Besides, for all we know, this could be it.
This could be the round that makes me a mom, makes West a dad.
He lifts me by my waist, then turns me until I’m straddling his lap. The long t-shirt I stole from his luggage rides up, and when he realizes I’m wearing nothing underneath, a groan rumbles inside his chest. It’s deep and primal, and I kind of like the sound of it.
Heat from his large hands pushes up my thighs, then over my hips until he’s gripping my ass.
“The fuck are you trying to do to me, Southside.” The intense rasp of his voice has me flashing a coy grin.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
He arches a brow. “Don’t you think I know you a little too well for you to play innocent?”
When his lips warm the side of my neck, I’m recalling every instance I’m sure he’s thinking of, too. Times in our past when I more than proved his ability to bring out my bad side.
In all the best ways, of course.
He feels like hot steel between my legs, hardening as I swivel my hips, grinding against his dick. A frustrated growl rips its way up his throat. Then, half a second later, I’m squealing as he shoots out of the chair, my legs tightening around his waist.
“Still a damn tease,” he accuses, and a laugh bursts from my lips as I’m tossed onto the bed. But before I can complain about the distance between us, he’s on top of me, settling between my legs as they fall open. There’s no way he doesn’t feel me squirming with need when the soft cotton of his sweats brushes my inner thighs.
“Know what I heard?” he rasps.
“What’s that?”
He holds in a smile. “They say it’s customary to fuck in a new house the night you move in. You know, for good luck, of course.”
I laugh against his ear. “Really? That’s what they say?”
“Yep. True story.”
“I see, but… the thing is, there’s a flaw in your rationale.”
He arches a brow, and I resist the urge to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “This house isn’t new to us. We’ve lived here before. Remember?”
He pauses to think of a clever rebuttal, but only comes up with, “That’s more of a technicality than a problem. Wouldn’t you say?”
His lids are heavy with need and… shit. Why is he still so fucking irresistible?
“Perhaps,” I sigh, finding it harder to concentrate. “But, lucky for you, I’m willing to overlook the fact that you’re completely full of shit.”
He buries his face into the side of my neck, and his warm, breathy laugh has my skin prickling with goosebumps. It’s a sensation that has me melting against him, like I’ve done so many times before.
“But for the record, I’m only making this exception once. And only because you’re sort of hot. Like, barely hot,” I tease.
He laughs again, sending a wave of warm heat cascading across my collarbone. My nipples harden against his chest, and I’m at his mercy.
He leans away, teeth gleaming when that wicked smile of his grows. “So, what you’re saying is… this will totally be a pity fuck.”
My eyes flit toward the ceiling as though I’m mulling over his words. “Yeah, pretty much.”
His teeth sink into his lip with another smile. “I’ll take it, smart-ass.”
He leans down to place a kiss on my forehead, then my chin. As I stare up, focused as he hovers over me, caging me between his inked arms, I’m overcome with impatience. West casts a slow glance down my torso when I reach between our bodies, slipping one hand inside his pants.
“That sure as hell doesn’t feel like pity,” he teases. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want this as much as I do.”
I shrug, still playing along. “Nah, I’m just a good actress.”
His lips part, and I’m guessing it’s to shoot back another smart remark, but he never gets that far. When his eyes slam shut, and his mouth falls slack at the feel of my hand moving up and down his cock, I think I’ve officially quieted him.
My husband, the perpetual shit-talker.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
He’s throbbing in my hand. I push my thumb over his tip, reveling in the sound of a soft hum leaving his lips as I repeat my demand.
“Fuck. Me.”
He doesn’t respond with words, but leans closer, sucking my tongue into his mouth as his heart races against mine. Then, a moment later, he shows me that my command hasn’t gone unheard.
There’s a brief pause when he leans away, but it’s only to push his sweats down his toned hips with one hasty motion. The feel of his smooth, bare skin against the insides of my thighs drives me crazy, frustrated because he’s still not inside me.
“Hurry,” I breathe against him.
I’m relieved that he’s now urgently gripping his cock, nudging it against my slick entrance. But not nearly as relieved as when I feel the sweet ache of him thrusting into me.
He rests on his forearms, bringing his face close to mine.
“You’re so impatient,” he rasps, kissing me again. “And you know I fucking love that shit.”
He’s right. I do know he loves it—loves seeing how insane it makes me when I have to wait for what I need. And for so many years now, he’s been all I’ve needed.
His back flexes in rhythm as he grinds into me. I measure each and every movement, charting smooth flesh and muscle as I lower both hands to the firmness of his ass. He pushes in deeper, and a whimper leaves me. His entire body is a work of art, and there has only ever been one word I can think of to convey perfection of this level.
Magnificent.
Today was filled with so many conflicting emotions—excitement, sadness, uncertainty, anger. But somehow, clinging to him like my life depends on it, West has washed it all away.
I needed this. The closeness, the escape.
He reaches for my thigh, locking his arm behind the bend of my knee, hiking it toward the headboard until I feel every -fucking-thing—the entire length of his cock plunging into me, how he stretches me to the hilt. With each powerful thrust, I lose my breath, and there’s no hiding what he does to me.
Which is the same thing he’s always done to me…
Drive me out of my damn mind.
“West—”
His name is nothing more than a whisper on my lips, and when he kisses my chin, pumping into me, I’m a quaking mess beneath him the next second, coming hard and loud as I grip his ass tighter. His heartbeat doubles where it thunders against me, and before my own climax fades, a deep grunt falls from his perfect lips.
“Damn it. You’re so… fucking…”
Nothing he says makes much sense in the moment, but I don’t need him to make sense to understand. As I feel the last traces of tension leave his body, I know exactly what he couldn’t quite put into words.
He needed this break from the bullshit.
He needed this release.
He needed me.
And the feeling is one hundred percent mutual.