Chapter Thirteen
One Week Later
Late on Sunday morning, Mustang had dropped me off at home, and I spent the rest of the day doing laundry and preparing for the week ahead—which included a nap.
On Monday I got through my day shift with the anticipation of my dinner plans. Mustang and Mary-Kate picked me up at six, and we went to Railyard. Just as excited as I was, Mary-Kate had insisted she needed to dress up for the occasion, which meant Mustang had been dragged to the store so she could pick out her new sleeveless, cotton summer dress covered in watermelon print.
I loved it.
I loved it more that she’d dragged Mustang to the store to buy it.
Even more than that, I loved knowing my man didn’t get dragged anywhere, which meant he wanted her to have the dress she insisted she needed.
After waking up without Mustang Tuesday morning, I was actually relieved I had a double shift to work. In a matter of days, the man had barged into my life so completely, I found it took hardly any time at all for me to miss him.
I was still lost in a free fall.
He promised to catch me, so I did nothing to stop it.
Wednesday afternoon, I came home to find a Harley parked on the curb and my man in the kitchen. I took this to mean there was no drama with Trix, which he confirmed.
He fed me. He fucked me. I passed out and he left for work.
Thursday morning, he was back making me breakfast, and I continued my fall.
Mustang took me back to Deadwood that night, and we had Italian for dinner.
When we got back to my place—we didn’t even make it to the bedroom.
I’d never look at my stairs without thinking of him again.
Friday night, before I left for work, I taped a note on my fridge.
It read: It’s my turn to feed you. You’ll just have to hold your horses until I wake up.
Now it was Saturday afternoon. I checked my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, and then I made a quick trip to the bathroom. I handled my business then brushed my teeth, running my fingers through my hair a few times before I decided it was good enough. I didn’t bother getting fully dressed, certain my nightshirt would suffice for the meal I had in mind.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I found Mustang on the couch, his feet on my coffee table, the TV on with the volume turned down low, and his phone in his hand.
He’d held his horses.
I grinned.
His eyes found mine and I said, “Hi, babe.”
He set his phone down and replied, “That’s the best you got?”
I crossed the room, pressed a knee onto the couch, kicked my opposite leg over his, and settled down on his lap. Then I sank my fingers in his hair, tilting his head back slightly, and gave him my mouth.
He took over from there, caging me in his arms as he kissed me greedy.
It was marvelous.
When he pulled away, his hazel-blue eyes were vibrant and warm.
“Better,” he muttered.
I laughed softly before I asked, “You hungry?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“’Kay. We’re having breakfast for lunch,” I told him. Then I frowned, considering what I’d said. “Wait—that’s brunch. We’re having brunch,” I amended, maneuvering myself off the couch.
“Whatever you call it, get to it, sugar,” he replied, a half-smile tugging at his lips.
Twenty minutes later, I was practically giddy watching him shovel my banana pancakes into his mouth.
“MK would devour this,” he told me, pointing his fork at his plate.
I finished my bite then offered, “Maybe I could make them for her some time.”
“How ‘bout tomorrow?”
I smiled huge. “Okay.”
“Pack a bag. You’ll stay at my place tonight. We’ll pick her up mid-morning, spend the day. You’ve got dinner duty—or whatever the hell you call breakfast for dinner.”
My smile softened as he stuck his fork through a triple-stacked bite of pancake.
“Your place, as in—your house?”
It hadn’t escaped me that while he had constant access to my home, I’d only been to his place once—and that had been an emergency situation. He lived less than five minutes from Steel Mustang, but if we weren’t in my bed, we slept in his room at the clubhouse.
I’d never really read into it, until after I met Mary-Kate. Even then, I understood his home wasn’t just his place, it was theirs . I respected that boundary wholeheartedly.
That also meant I felt the significance of his invitation now.
He quirked an eyebrow at me, his pending bite waiting in a puddle of syrup.
“Only room in the clubhouse I want you naked is mine. You want a shower you’ll do it at my place. No point in sleepin’ at the clubhouse if we’ll wind up under my roof anyway.”
Practicality aside, I still reveled in what our plans implied.
Before he could take his next bite, I dropped my fork, placed my hand at the back of his neck, and drew him to me for a kiss.
He didn’t resist.
He tasted like banana and maple syrup.
I had half a mind to abandon the rest of my meal in order to feast on him when he pulled away and said, “Gotta get that, sugar.”
It wasn’t until he spoke that I heard the vibration of his phone in his pocket.
I nodded as I let him go.
“Yeah?” he answered shortly.
I took my next bite, chewing slowly as I felt the shift in his demeanor.
He reached up and raked his fingers through his hair as he replied, “Need twenty minutes.”
Whoever he was speaking to responded, then Mustang disconnected without even a grunt of goodbye.
“Everything okay?”
“Club business. I’ve got to go.” Even after he said it, he shoveled another bite of pancakes into his mouth and immediately started spearing the last of what was on his plate onto his fork.
“Oh. Alright.”
Armed with my new awareness of what club business might be, I wasn’t so sure I wanted anymore of my lunch.
“Should I—”
“Pack that bag. We’ll meet at the bar later. Not sure how long this’ll take, so plan on after dinner. I’ll let you know if any of that changes.”
He took his last bite, and my uncertainty increased.
As if he could sense my mood as easily as I’d felt his, he slowed down enough to look at me and say, “Tess, what’d I tell you?”
I shook my head, not sure what he was referencing. “About what?”
“I lean in where I’m needed—don’t find myself on the wrong end of a barrel every time there’s club business to be handled. You need peace, that’s what I’ve got to give. I’m not givin’ you a play-by-play every time I walk out that door. You know what you know, and that’s enough. You’re just gonna have to trust me.”
It would have been a lie to say I’d wrapped my head around all he’d shared the previous weekend. It was more of a work in progress. Still, I reminded myself he’d been a Wild Stallion for almost twenty years, then I reminded myself he’d trusted me with the truth of what that meant.
He was right. I’d made my choice. I needed to trust him.
“Tonight. Meet at the bar,” I murmured.
He jerked his chin in a nod, stood and pocketed his phone, then leaned down to press a quick, hard kiss against my lips.
“Later, baby.”
“Bye, Mustang,” I said as he went.
I didn’t finish my plate, but I did work on being okay with the fact that my man was off doing club business while I cleaned the kitchen. This was the first time he’d been called away to do such a thing when he was with me, but it wasn’t going to be the last. I wanted to be his woman, not his weak link. I was going to have to get used to this part of our relationship, so I made it a point to do more than sit around and worry.
After I was finished with the dishes, I went to pack an overnight bag. Then I hopped in the shower, taking extra time to shave and wash my hair. I was dressed and getting ready to power on my blow drier when I heard my phone ring. I hurried back to my room, hoping it was Mustang.
It wasn’t him.
But it wasn’t disappointment I felt when I read the name on my screen.
A different sort of worry twisted my stomach when I answered Mitchell’s call.
I’d been to see Sharon less than twenty-four hours ago, and she slept the entire visit. That week, she’d been significantly frailer and more lethargic with no appetite. We all knew she was getting close.
“Hi, Mitch,” I answered gently.
“Tess—will you come? Please?”
Even though he couldn’t see me do it, I nodded.
“Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
We disconnected without further discussion, and I went to grab a fresh pair of scrubs.
Ten minutes later, on my way out the door, I shot Mustang a text.
I got called into work. Not sure how long I’ll be. Will keep you posted.
Three hours later, Sharon breathed her last, surrounded by the ones she loved most in the world. It was a couple of hours after that before they were ready to say goodbye. I gave them the space they needed, helping with little Emilia until she fell asleep next to me on the couch. Around eight o’clock, Renee came out to switch places with me, informing me both Mitchell and Lance were ready for me to make the necessary calls to have Sharon’s body picked up and taken to the funeral home.
I stepped out onto the porch to make my calls and to get a little fresh air. The sun was starting to set, and the sky was painted in orange and pink hues. It was peaceful, just as Sharon’s passing had been, and I found it incredibly comforting.
Having reached the people with whom I needed to speak, I decided to take advantage of my moment alone and call Mustang. I wasn’t sure if he’d answer, but I wanted to try to hear his voice before I settled for a text.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Hey, baby. You on your way?”
I could hear the muffled sounds of the bar in the background, and I was sure he’d stepped into the back hallway to take my call. I frowned, realizing I actually didn’t feel up to hanging out at the bar until closing—even if Mustang was there.
“No, actually. I’ll be a little while longer. But, babe, I’m not sure the bar is where I want to be tonight. My patient died, and I’m feeling a bit drained. Maybe we should just plan on meeting in the morning?”
He hesitated a couple seconds, then said, “Stop by the bar. I’ll give you my key, you can let yourself in.”
I dropped my gaze to my sneakers.
I liked that idea. A lot.
Still, I asked, “Are you sure?”
“Tess? Stop by the bar. I’ll give you my key.”
I could picture his face as he repeated himself, the same face he made every time he felt the need to drive his point home, and a small smile tugged at my lips.
“Okay. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
“Sugar?”
“Yeah?”
“You good?”
I brought my gaze back up to admire the colors streaked across the sky with the rapidly setting sun.
“Yeah. I’m good,” I answered honestly.
“See you in a bit.”
“Bye, babe.”
He disconnected and I slipped my phone into my pocket but didn’t turn to head back inside. I wanted to watch the sun disappear.
It was almost over the horizon when the front door opened, and Lance stepped outside.
His blond hair was tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and his eyes were red-rimmed. He’d been pretty quiet since I arrived, and I felt for him. I really did.
“Hey,” he muttered softly, shutting the door behind him.
“Hi, Lance. Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked carefully.
He furrowed his brow, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He stared at me for a minute, and I didn’t break his silence, sensitive to his state of mind.
Finally, he said, “It’s strange. You’ve been a part of our lives for months. Now, what, I just won’t see you anymore?”
“Well,” I began, thinking fast in an effort to choose my words wisely. “Gillette isn’t so big that we won’t run into each other from time to time, I’m sure.”
“And what if I want to see you more than that?”
“Oh, Lance, I—”
“We wouldn’t have been able to get through this without you,” he interrupted, taking a step closer to me. “I— I wouldn’t have been able to get through this without you. The way you kept my brother and me from ripping each other’s heads off? Reminding us of what was important.”
“Lance,” I tried once more.
I gasped in surprise when he yanked his hands from his pockets and pulled me into his arms. He held me so tightly my own arms were pinned to my sides. I froze and tried to assess exactly what was happening.
For a moment, he just hugged me. Thinking it was something he needed, I let him. When I felt his nose tickle my neck, I began to squirm in his hold.
“Lance? What are you—?”
“I don’t want to leave it to chance,” he said, his hands moving across my back, as if he was exploring me.
I was beginning to panic, my breaths coming short and fast as I continued to try and wriggle out of his hold. His lips touched my jaw just when I was able to yank my hands free and shove them against his chest.
“Lance!”
My tone and my touch were enough to get him to take a step back, and we stared at each other for what felt like ages, but was probably only ten seconds, as I tried to get my breathing under control.
When I had my wits about me, I calmly but firmly explained, “I understand this is a difficult time. You’re hurting, and you’re longing for comfort. I’m sorry, but I cannot be that for you. It’s not appropriate. Please—please go back inside and be with your family.”
He balled his hands into fists and released them a couple of times, then took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “I’m sorry. Shit timing,” he said, taking another step away from me. He ran his fingers through his hair, shook his head, then continued, “I—I can’t go back in there. I think I’ll go for a walk.”
I watched him leave before I sank my fingers in my own hair, pulling it away from my face and clinching it into my fists as I tried to shake off what just happened. While Lance’s behavior hadn’t come as a total surprise, it still totally sucked, and I was definitely ready to get out of there. Preferring to be inside with the others and not alone when Lance returned, I went back into the house to wait for the funeral home staff to arrive.
It was another forty-five minutes before Sharon’s body was collected. Sad as it was to say goodbye to Mitchell, Renee, and their daughters, I was relieved to close myself into the confines of my car, and happy I’d tossed my overnight bag in the backseat before I left home.
Lance had come back to see his mother taken away but didn’t say a word to me before I left. I’d told him earlier that maybe we’d see each other around town, but as I pulled out of Sharon’s driveway and onto Ramshorn Avenue for the last time, I hoped it wasn’t true.
I headed straight to Steel Mustang. The parking lot looked like it usually did on a Saturday night just before the headline band took the stage—full. Nonetheless, guessing by the number of motorcycles parked out front, I assumed the crowd was a little smaller than it had been the week before, no out-of-town Stallions around to party hard all night. As I approached the entrance, I didn’t feel a thrill of excitement at the prospect of going inside, but I did feel a longing I couldn’t put into words.
When I stepped through the door, Wrangler was there, leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. He jerked his chin at me in greeting and I waved before making my way back toward the bar. The second my eyes landed on Mustang, that longing I felt intensified. He was busy, handing off a couple draft beers to a customer, but I didn’t have to wait long before he noticed me.
When his hands were free, as if he felt my stare, he looked over at me, and those eyes of his made me stop dead in my tracks. He studied me a moment, then muttered something to Phoenix before making his way out from behind the bar. I watched him disappear behind one swinging door only to watch him prowl through another. I reached for him as he drew near, and he didn’t stop until I was burrowed deep into his chest, one of his arms wrapped tight around my back, his other raised so he could bury his fingers in my hair. I slid my arms underneath his kutte, splaying my hands across the hard surface of his back.
I closed my eyes, breathed in deep, and held on tight.
The scent of leather, fresh air, and pine engulfed me.
Instantly, I felt safe and far from alone.
My man held me until I was ready to let go.
Right there, in the middle of his bar.
Like he didn’t care where we were.
And I loved it.
When I pulled away enough to look up at him, he loosened his hold on me, then signaled with a tilt of his head toward the exit. I nodded, and he tucked me under his arm as we headed back toward the door I’d just entered. Once outside, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, dangling from an otherwise empty ring.
“Code to the garage is oh-four-two-five. MK’s birthday, if that’ll help you remember.”
I took the key, repeating the number aloud.
“You remember how to get there?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“Things taper off, I’ll put Wrangler behind the bar, be home as soon as I can.”
I didn’t tell him how much I wanted that. I didn’t want to be needy.
Death was part of my job. I was around it often enough, I knew how to handle myself when I lost a patient. It was what happened with Lance that had me feeling off—but I’d handled that, too. I just needed to let it go.
Rather than tell him what I was thinking, I merely said, “Do what you have to, babe. No rush. I’ll probably just grab a shower and crawl into bed, if that’s okay.”
“Bedroom’s not hard to find. Shower’s not hard to operate. You want to watch TV, remote’s either on the dresser or the nightstand.”
“Okay.”
His eyes searched my face before he dropped a hand and squeezed one side of my butt.
I couldn’t help but to smile.
His mouth tipped in a smirk before he said, “See you in a bit, sugar.”
I found Mustang’s house with little trouble and let myself inside, fumbling for light switches as I moved from one room to the next. It felt a little bit like snooping, but I poked my head into every room I passed in search of his.
There were five doors down the hallway.
The first was a room, just behind the living area, which Mustang obviously used as a home gym. A Wild Stallions flag hung on one of the walls.
The second led to a bathroom. Like everything else I’d seen, it was clean and functional, but lacking any décor. Though, the shower curtain in there was pink, purple, and teal mermaid print, and Mary-Kate got credit for that.
Across the hallway from the bathroom was a linen closet. Pleased to have stumbled across his collection of towels, I grabbed one and proceeded with my exploration.
The third door to the left was Mary-Kate’s room. I paused a moment to admire it. It really was a room fit for a princess. She had a simple, wooden canopy bed draped with sheer, cream linen across the top and down the sides. Her bedding was a rosy pink, and it matched the printed pink area rug situated in the middle of the room. There were low-hung shelves with books along one wall, and baskets stuffed with playthings along another. Above it, in pink painted wooden letters, her initials had been mounted. It was perfect.
Finally, I passed through the second door on the right side of the hall, knowing it was my final destination. I wasn’t at all surprised to find a simple, masculine room—but I instantly loved it for all that made it different from his room at the clubhouse.
He had a large headboard made of dark, distressed wood. His nightstands and the dresser, which also served as his TV stand across from his bed, looked to match. His bedding was dark gray, and the large rug he had underneath the bed was patterned with beige, gray, and black. On the opposite side of the room from where I stood was a bay window, built into the wall to create a sort of bench. I was sure it offered an amazing view, out across his backyard and the horizon beyond.
That’s where I set my overnight bag before I gathered what I needed for a shower. His master bathroom and adjoining closet were behind a sliding farmhouse door and easily twice the size of mine. His shower was awesome, and I let the water beat down on my neck and shoulders for a few minutes before I washed up and got out.
Since I tended to sleep naked with Mustang, I hadn’t packed anything to wear to bed. Not in the mood to be naked in his bed without him, I decided to borrow something from his wardrobe. When I found a faded, black Harley Davidson tee, I knew I need search no further. I slipped into it, turned out the lights, then tucked myself between Mustang’s sheets.
I was drained, but not exhausted, which meant I didn’t crash as soon as my head hit the pillow. I thought about the events of the day—the good and the bad—and where I found myself. Then I remembered the first time I woke to find Mustang in my kitchen cooking me breakfast.
'You take care of people all day. Who’s takin’ care of you?'
He was. He was taking care of me in ways I never imagined a man could.
I’d always hoped I’d find a man who would at least appreciate what I did for a living—to the point that he wouldn’t get upset if a patient called me away in the middle of the night or during a date; a man who understood why sometimes it took me a little longer to get to the grocery store or that I typically couldn’t hit the town with the intention of getting drunk because I couldn’t afford to be inebriated, just in case.
But Mustang didn’t simply understand—he filled my fridge when he thought it looked empty. One time he dug my phone out of my purse and put it on the nightstand when I forgot and passed out after sex. He didn’t get annoyed by my weird sleeping schedule; he worked around it so he could be with me as often as he wanted.
My badass biker was hard on the outside but sweet on the inside.
I wondered then about his mom. I wondered what she’d been like and how she’d loved. I knew Mustang had learned to love by her example, and I wished I could thank her for it.
How she died was still a mystery to me—still a part of the puzzle I hadn’t pieced together. Neither father nor son had volunteered the information, and I wondered if they ever would or if I’d have to extract it myself.
It wasn’t long before I started to doze, drifting in and out of my thoughts. I didn’t hear it when Mustang got home, but I did feel it when he climbed into bed with me.
“Hi,” I whispered into the darkness.
“You good, baby?”
He reached for me, his warm, calloused palm skimming my bare thigh. It made me want to kiss him. Everything about that moment made me want to kiss him—his touch, him asking if I was good, the fact that we were in his bed for the first time—all of it reignited the longing I’d felt when I walked into his bar hours earlier.
I leaned into him, searching for his mouth with my own. When I found it, I answered him with a kiss. Like always, he didn’t disappoint. He reciprocated—deep and wet. Except, rather than completely take over, I could tell he was following my lead. That sent a spark of excitement right through me, turning me on.
I rolled into him, and he let me, putting him flat on his back with my legs straddling his hips. It dawned on me then, he’d taken me fast and hard a number of times, but I’d yet to ride him.
Suddenly, that’s all I wanted to do.
Humming into his mouth, I ground my naked sex against the growing bulge in his boxer briefs, hinting at my desire. He jerked his hips up in response, submerging the fingers of one hand into my hair, keeping me close as he kissed me deeper still. When I felt his arm snake around my waist, I broke our kiss, afraid he’d have me on my back before I got my chance.
“I want to ride you, Mustang,” I insisted breathlessly.
He shot upright, taking me with him, his lips grazing mine as he said, “You want a ride, you got it, sugar—but we do that shit with the light on so I can watch my Tess get wild.”
I shivered in anticipation, and I was sure he felt it because the next thing I knew, I was no longer in his shirt. With his arm around my waist keeping me stable, he then reached toward his nightstand in order to switch on his lamp. That done, he pulled open the drawer and grabbed a condom. Working around me, he stretched out, lifted his hips, and shoved his underwear out of our way before he sheathed himself.
Finally, he sat up once more, crushed his lips against mine in a bruising kiss, then muttered, “Take what you want, baby.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Hand against his chest, I pushed him onto his back, then teased us both as I grazed my sex along his hard length, coating the condom. When I was ready, I grabbed hold of him, positioned him at my entrance, and took him inside me.
Then I rode.
I rocked my hips slowly at first, luxuriating in the feel of him filling me full. Soon, my need began to grow in intensity. With my hands spread open across Mustang’s abs, I leaned forward and picked up the pace. As I stoked the fire of my own pleasure with his body, he never took his eyes off of me. I couldn’t explain why, but that made me even more wanton.
I bucked my hips harder, chasing the high I only ever felt when I was with Mustang. When he reached up to fondle my breasts, I let my head fall back as I surrendered to the sensation of his touch.
“Oh, my god,” I moaned.
I could feel the orgasm building inside of me and knew it was going to be huge—but I had to reach for it. So, I thrust faster, harder, panting in my desperation.
When Mustang pinched my nipples, he got to see his Tess get wild.
I righted my head and dug my fingertips into his belly as I cried out, giving him all I had.
“ Mustang —oh, god! More ,” I begged, on the brink.
He abandoned my nipples, grabbing hold of my thigh with one hand as the thumb of his other made contact with my clit.
That did it.
And I was right.
My orgasm was huge.
All I could do was hold on, my hands gripping his sides as I trembled uncontrollably.
Mustang’s groan mingled with my moan, but he wasn’t done.
I was still coming when he grabbed hold of my hips and began pounding into me from below. It was too much, but it hurt so good.
Fortunately, he wasn’t too far behind me.
“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, his rhythm soon broken as he found his release.
He pummeled inside of me twice more, lingering each time as his muscles locked, pleasure washing over him.
After his last thrust, I collapsed onto his chest, my skin damp with a thin layer of sweat.
I didn’t know it until I’d taken it—but that was exactly what I needed.
Neither of us moved as we caught our breath, and I could have stayed on top of him all night. Too soon, I lost him from inside of me before he reached down, grabbed one side of my butt and muttered, “Got to get out of this condom, sugar.”
I kissed his neck in acknowledgment, then reluctantly dismounted, curling up beside him. It was when he sat up, and I found myself staring at his Stallions tattoo, that I remembered how he’d left me in my kitchen earlier. The day had gotten away from me, and I hadn’t asked how things had gone on his end.
“Babe?” I called gently, just as his feet hit the ground.
He looked back at me from over his shoulder in reply.
“Um, how did it go today?” I stammered, not sure the best way to bring up the topic.
There was a chance it wasn’t my place to bring it up at all—but I’d opened the door, and he’d pulled me through it.
“With club business, I mean,” I clarified. “Is everything okay?”
“For now. Nothin’ for you to worry about, baby.”
When he didn’t say more, but stood and disappeared into the bathroom, I understood. I needed to trust him. Moreover, I needed to learn to trust the Wild Stallions, as a whole, to protect each other. To protect my man. Whatever that looked like.
I wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to do that, but I wasn’t going anywhere, which meant I had time to figure it out.
For now, sated and content in a way I hadn’t anticipated feeling after the events of my night, I closed my eyes and waited for Mustang’s return. I was already drifting towards sleep when I heard him click off the lamp before climbing into bed. Without even looking, I reached for him, and I sensed him lifting his arm in invitation. Snuggled up against his warm, solid chest, I fell asleep in the safest place I’d ever known.
I woke the next morning on my belly, naked, Mustang’s knuckles grazing gently up and down my spine. The sun was peeking through the blinds at his bay window, and I turned my head on the pillow, in search of my man. My eyes caught his hazel-blue ones already staring at me.
“How’s this go?” he asked in lieu of good morning. “I need to treat you with kid gloves today or what?”
I smiled sleepily at my badass biker, reaching over to graze my fingers along his bearded cheek. “No, sweetheart. I’ll be okay. She was ready to go, and I was ready to help her.”
A slight frown tugged at my brow as memories of Lance flashed before my eyes.
“Yesterday was harder than normal because the family—well, one of her sons, he didn’t take it well. He was hurting and didn’t know what to do with his grief. But I handled it.”
“So, you’re good?”
My smile got bigger, and I fell a little harder before I replied, “Last night helped. And I think a day spent with my badass biker and his little princess will make me feel even better.”
“Think I can manage that. You starved, or do you mind if we go get MK before we eat?”
“Wouldn’t mind a coffee on our way out.”
“I can manage that, too.”
Thirty minutes later, we were in his truck, on our way to get Mary-Kate.
I couldn’t remember a better Sunday than the one I had with the two of them.
We played, we laughed, and we ate way too many banana pancakes.
I’d been invited into their world, and I loved every minute of it.
That night, I went to bed alone in my own bed—but I did it feeling happy.