Too Sweet (Boys of Lake Chapel)

12. Joey

Chapter 12

Joey

I’m clinging to the lukewarm coffee mug like it’s my last lifeline. I don’t even want the putrid liquid, but holding the mug gives me something to do between texting Hunter. One timid sip confirmed what I feared—I grabbed Decker’s cup in my hasty exit from the kitchen. The man rarely drinks coffee as it is, but when he does, he takes it black.

I’m not surprised when the sliding glass door creaks open and my four guys file out onto the deck.

Their crestfallen expressions and puppy dog eyes kill me. One of them looking at me that way would be enough to make me want to gloss over the whole ordeal. But when they all have the same expression and I’m the one responsible for putting it there?

Ugh times four.

I shoot off one last text to Hunter, then stash my phone away.

“Hi,” I offer meekly as the guys inch closer, circling the hammock where I’ve made camp.

Kylian is the first to reach me. He slides onto the hammock and pulls me into his arms without hesitation.

A fraction of the tightness in my chest loosens, but most of the shame is still there. Instinctively, I rub at my breastbone. I hate feeling like this. More importantly, I hate that I made them all feel like shit, too.

“We’re sorry, Hot Girl.” Nicky takes my hand, interlacing our fingers. “We shouldn’t have gone all out and made a big deal about your birthday without talking to you first.”

I offer him a weak smile, my eyes watery with unshed tears. I don’t want to make them feel worse. But I can’t fight back the anxiety and anger that stir up for me on February fourteenth when there are balloons and a banner reminding me of the day.

I wanted this year to be different. Up until twenty minutes ago, I was sure it would be. Hell, for the first time in my adult life, I was excited about this day.

Nicky strokes his thumb over my hand. “We popped every balloon. We tore down the streamers and the banner. We stashed the presents away. We’ll put the cake out in the trash tomorrow before we leave.”

I tip my head up to meet his gaze. “There was cake?”

Kylian leans over and runs his nose along my jaw. “Vanilla buttercream with extra sprinkles.”

My heartstrings tug at the thoughtfulness. They went all out. I hate that I can’t just enjoy this for what it is.

“Talk to us, Mama,” Kendrick encourages. “What’s going on?”

Sighing, I sit up, then rise to my feet and stretch out my arms. The blanket I was cuddling under falls to the deck. Nicky tsks and whips his hoodie off over his head.

“Here,” he insists, helping me put my arms through it.

I smile at him appreciatively. “Thanks.” I cross my arms and steel my spine, grateful for the extra warmth. It’s way too cold to be out here without some sort of layer or blanket.

“So Nicky’s allowed to give you something?” Decker mocks.

My eyes flit to his face, shooting daggers at my dense-as-hell husband.

Kendrick lightly shoves him in the chest. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you, Cap?”

With an exasperated exhale, I look to each of them. Then, before I lose my courage, I dive in and try to explain as quickly and succinctly as I can.

“You already know my mom was a piece of work.”

My generous assessment of the woman who birthed me earns a chorus of grumbles.

“She left me home alone a lot when I was growing up, from as early as I can remember. Probably even earlier than I remember, if I’m being honest.”

One of the guys growls.

I close my eyes, hold up both hands, and shake my head. “I know. I know . Please just let me get through this.”

Gentle fingers brush the side of my face, tipping my chin back. I assume it’s Nicky or Kendrick. When I open my eyes, I’m met with stoic, sincere obsidian irises. “We’re listening, Siren.”

Hope floats inside my chest. I can do this, and I owe it to all of them to try and explain. Squaring my shoulders and standing to full height, I continue. “She only bought groceries once a month. I learned at a young age to ration the food to make it last. Thankfully my school district had a food assistance program. I had free breakfast and lunch as long as I made it to school.”

My stomach twists at the memory. “When I was in second grade, my teacher took it upon herself to reach out to my mom and ask if she wanted to provide the Valentine’s Day snack for our class party since it coincided with my birthday.”

The weight of the memory clogs my throat, filling my gut with dread, even all these years later. Apprehensively, I whisper, “I didn’t ask the teacher to do that. I didn’t even know she had called my mom until the night before.”

Locke’s arm snakes around my low back as he pulls me into his side. “It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs into my hair before planting a kiss on the top of my head. It’s the reminder I need.

“When I came home from school on the thirteenth, my mom told me what the teacher asked her to do. Surprisingly, she had already gone out and bought two dozen red-frosted cupcakes from the convenience store. When she showed them to me, she told me I better enjoy them, because that was the last thing she was buying for me until her EBT card reloaded the next month.”

I can still smell the stench of stale smoke that clung to our trailer like a cancer. I can see my mother sitting at her perch in the front room, carelessly flicking ash all over the couch that doubled as my bed.

Bile rises up my esophagus, threatening to spill over.

“Jo.”

My eyes find Kylian’s. His steady gaze snaps me back to reality.

I am here. This is now.

I’ll never be in a situation like that again. I’ll make sure of it. They’ll make sure of it. But that doesn’t mean all the grief I feel for the little girl who had to be so strong and callous just to survive isn’t valid.

When Kylian’s icy blue irises stay fixed on mine—holding me steady, reminding and assuring me I’m safe—I finally break. The tears I’ve been trying to hold back burst through me like a geyser.

He sidles up to my free side, pressing me into Nicky and soothingly stroking my hair. I let myself feel it, I let myself be soft and vulnerable, because I know between the four of them, they can handle it.

I sob for what feels like hours, though I suspect only a few minutes have actually passed. When I finally settle, I wipe my snotty nose on Nicky’s hoodie sleeves and take the deepest breath I’ve taken all day.

“Our Valentine’s Day class party was on a Thursday, right before a long weekend. There were twenty-two kids in my class including me, plus the teacher. I brought home one cupcake, and that plus whatever was still edible in the fridge in our trailer was all I had to eat until classes resumed four days later. I didn’t see my mom at all that weekend. I don’t think I ever saw her on any of my birthdays again.”

I sniffle, more angry than sad when I let the reality of her choices sink in. I wipe a stray tear from my face, upset with myself that I fell about just now.

That’s the thing about trauma—I never know how it’s going to rear its head, just that it’s not going to feel good when it happens.

“I understand my reaction earlier upset you.” My focus shifts to my husband; I know him well enough to know he took my rejection the hardest. “But I hate this day. It’s always been marked with fear or disappointment. I hate those memories, and I hate the reminder of how helpless I was back then.”

“You were a child,” Decker seethes.

I shrug out of Nicky’s and Kylian’s embraces to close the space between us.

“I know,” I assure my husband as I wrap my arms around his torso and rest my chin on his sternum.

His arms find their rightful place around my waist. His hands splay wide on my low back, pinning my body to his.

“I can’t just flip a switch and change how I feel, though, Cap. I don’t want to have to fake it with you,” I tell him sincerely. “With any of you,” I add, looking to each of my guys. “I don’t like my birthday for very valid reasons. I might grow to like it eventually… but I can’t promise that. I think it’s going to take years of low-key, non-drama February fourteenths for me to truly embrace this day.”

They’re all quiet, which gives me hope I got through.

“Thank you for sharing that with us,” Kendrick tells me, holding out his hand.

I willingly take it, but Decker doesn’t release me right away. Instead, he kisses my forehead and gives me a sorrowful frown, though he does then reluctantly let me go.

When I step into Kendrick’s embrace, another wave of security washes over me.

I am here. This is now. And this is a very good place to be.

“I still want to celebrate Valentine’s Day with you,” I tell them, resting my cheek against K’s chest. “This weekend was off to an amazing start, and I’m so happy to be here. I just don’t want to make it about my birthday, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Kylian replies. He looks to the others but doesn’t give them time to object. “What do you need right now, baby?”

I press my lips together, thinking. “The balloons and decorations are gone?”

“Every single one,” he confirms.

Decker adds, “I can take out the trash so you don’t see them again. I’ll wipe down all the counters. Clear out all the evidence.”

I silently laugh against K’s chest. My husband is a stubborn, obstinate man. But once he finally gets it, he really fucking gets it.

A yawn catches me by surprise.

“How about a bath, Mama?” Kendrick offers. “That way you can relax while Cap does a thorough sweep of the scene of the crime.”

I have to fight back another laugh. “That sounds like heaven.”