Chapter 12 If The Bird Shits, I’m Out Cara #2
“You should take a video,” Lily says to Adam, who’s lounging in a chair with her in his lap. “For Mommy and Auntie Cara and—”
“You’re right, sweetheart.” He aims his phone at the friends he chose as family. “The girls will want to see this, and we’ll want to rewatch it for years to come.”
“Holy fuck,” Olivia mutters, stopping beside me.
“Not the vest!” Jaxon screeches as the sparrow swoops, beak clacking at him. “Gran made this for me with her nimble angel fingers! It’s one of a kind!”
Lennon claps a hand to her face. “Not the nimble angel fingers.”
Jaxon throws himself to the floor, and Carter shrieks as the bird comes his way.
“Not the”—Ireland smacks him in the face with her oven mitt—“babies!” He grabs Connor and Ireland under his arms, charging into the dining room. “Take cover!”
“I can’t see!” Emmett hollers, spinning in a circle with Garrett’s arms wrapped around his entire face. “Garrett! Get off me! I can’t see!”
“Help!” Garrett screams as Emmett bucks him off his back. He lands with a thud on the floor, wide eyes fixed on the sparrow who seems to be looking right at him, flapping his wings in a rather aggressive way. He scrambles to his feet. “Help! Adam! Get it! Get it!”
Garrett makes a run for it as the tiny bird takes charge. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get very far.
He runs smack-dab into the patio door, ricocheting off it, landing with a pathetic moan.
Adam sighs, clicking his phone off. He and Lily head to the kitchen island, where the sparrow is perched on the back of a chair, preening. “C’mon, you,” he murmurs, scooping up the bird and opening the patio door. “Can’t have you destroying my team before our home-opener game.”
I step into the kitchen. “Anyone care to tell me why there was a bird in my house just now?”
All heads snap to me, and honestly, it’s kind of sweet they look so relieved.
Emmett scrambles toward me, a frazzled mess. “Care, baby, it was Carter.”
Garrett grabs Jennie against his chest. “I think I have a concussion. A blow job might help.”
Jaxon places his hand over his heaving chest, wide eyes on Lennon. “That fucker almost got Gran’s vest, Len. Her vest!”
“They won’t stop picking on me!” Carter hollers, running for Olivia, kids in tow.
Lily wraps her arms around Rosie’s waist. “Did you see me, Mommy? I saved the bird!”
Adam grins, rocking back on his heels. “Did you see me? I was the mature one.”
Lennon pulls out her phone. “Adam, I’m gonna need you to send me that video. That’s going on the Vipers’ socials immediately.”
The boys howl out their protest, and I head to the closet to find the disinfectant. A strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against a warm, broad chest.
“How was your day, beautiful?”
I tilt my head as Emmett showers my neck with kisses. “It was really nice.” Turning, I rest my hip against the doorframe, brow rising as my gaze coasts down the length of Emmett’s body, then back up.
“Well?” He waggles his brows. “What do you think?”
Jesus fuck, my man is on fire in his deep-green bespoke suit—the way it hugs his thick thighs, stretches across his chest just right.
I toss my arms around his neck. “I think I wanna sneak into the changeroom tonight, drop to my knees, and deepthroat your cock before I ride it into oblivion while screaming your name.”
A guttural sound rumbles in his chest, and something pokes my belly button as Emmett’s arms tighten around me.
He presses me back into the closet, his hand coming up to grip the shelf above my head as his mouth captures mine.
He yanks the door closed behind us before pushing his hand into my pants, two fingers sliding effortlessly inside my pussy.
“Jesus,” he groans, tearing at his belt buckle.
“Emmett.” I giggle, pushing against him. He circles my clit, and my back arches. “We can’t,” I moan, rocking into him.
“Your pussy says differently, firefly.” He drags a hot, wet kiss up my throat, then buries his words against my lips.
“Your pussy says you need my cock. Crave it. Beg to be filled with my cum.” He pulls out his cock, swiping it through my folds, an action we both watch through hooded, starved eyes.
“I want my cum dripping out of this sweet little cunt while I’m on the ice tonight.
Wanna look up at you and know you’re wet.
Watch your thighs rub together and know you’re whining about how empty you feel without me. ”
“Fuuuck.” I toss my head back as he starts pushing inside me, but then—“Wait.” I shake my head, palms on his chest as I push him backward. “We can’t. Today’s the start of five days, remember? You’re not allowed to cum.”
Emmett’s brow furrows before he groans. He reaches for me again. “It’s one day. It’ll be okay.”
“Em, no.” I giggle, swatting his hand way. “I don’t want to risk it. This is our last IUI. This might be it.”
He watches me for a moment before scrubbing his hands down his face. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. You’re right.” He tucks himself back into his pants before zipping up my jeans, gaze downcast and shoulders slumped.
I catch his hand as he turns for the door. “Hey. I’m sorry. I wish we could.”
His eyes soften, and he presses a kiss to my lips. “Nah, don’t be sorry, firefly. Sometimes all rational thought leaves my head when you’re involved. I got caught up. I’m sorry.”
We open the closet, and Lily stares up at us from the other side.
“What were you guys doing in the closet?”
LATER, WHEN THE BOYS AND Lennon have left, Olivia takes the kids to the living room, setting them up with some show about a blue dog with an Australian accent while they get decked out in their dads’ Vipers gear, and I spray down every single surface in my kitchen.
Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be any bird poop.
That would simply be my undoing. We’d need to move, and I’d also need a vacation.
Footsteps thud on the stairs, and I glance up as Natasha comes waltzing down the hall with the vacuum in hand. She skids to a stop at the edge of the kitchen, eyes wide and on me. Or, more specifically, me cleaning.
“Are you well, Cara?”
Am I well? What the fuck? “Dandy, Tash. How are you?”
“Well, I got one of your thongs stuck in the vacuum. It was under the bed. You must have thrown it there.”
“Mmm. Nope, not me.”
“Well, it didn’t walk there.”
I smile as I scrub the kitchen island. “Emmett ditched it there when he peeled it off me last night.”
Natasha ignores me, tucking away the vacuum. “I’m going to the store to restock some of the cleaning supplies. Did you need anything else while I’m there?”
“No, I don’t think so.” I tap the counter, thinking. “Actually, could you grab me a pregnancy test?”
Natasha halts, wide eyes coming to me. “Are you—”
“I like to have one on hand each month. But just one, please.” I toss the paper towel in the trash, washing my hands in the sink.
“Multiple tests feels like I’m betting against myself.
If I have a Costco pack of twenty-four, my fucking uterus will probably take it as a challenge to use each one.
” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but the mutter comes out anyway.
It’s pretty much impossible to hide things from Natasha, given she’s in our space so often, but her being aware of our fertility issues doesn’t make it any easier to be vulnerable with her.
Rosie smiles softly at me from the living room. “It only takes one.”
“Yeah, I get it.” Natasha takes the cleaning spray from me, pausing to squeeze my arm in an uncharacteristically sweet gesture.
“I can’t imagine how difficult it is to stay positive each month.
To bet on yourself in the face of everything you’re going through.
Your strength is really admirable, Cara. ”
My first instinct is to be suspicious, but truthfully, I’m too tired. Giving people the benefit of the doubt is far less emotionally taxing. So I let the thoughtful words sink in, the corner of my mouth lifting just slightly. “Thanks, Natasha.”
Truthfully, she wasn’t always so bad. Emmett had hired her a handful of months before we met, and when I met her, it was clear she had a major crush on him.
At first, she was kind, maybe even a touch overfriendly.
But as the months wore on and it became clear I wasn’t just a passing distraction for Emmett, her attitude changed.
She grew jealous, resentful of me, of the things I had that she wanted. And jealousy is a bitter, ugly thing.
I’ve been reminded of that a lot lately, watching my friends with their kids, with their growing baby bumps. I’ve experienced more jealousy in the last two years—and consequently more disappointment in myself—than I ever have in all my life.
Two hours later, when we’re at the arena and waiting for the boys to take the ice for warmups before their home-opening game, I’m still trying to shove the dirty feeling away, and that right there is why I try to rise above Natasha’s jealousy.
She doesn’t want to feel this way—doesn’t understand why she does—and one day, hopefully, she’ll figure out how to move past it. Just like I’ll move past mine.
One day.
Hopefully.
“Ireland, baby, come on. Stand up, please.” Olivia straightens, huffing and swiping at her forehead, dotted with sweat. With two hands on her back, she arches and groans. “Mama can’t hold you right now. My back hurts.”
Ireland shrieks, kicking her feet on the floor, where she’s been sprawled out for the last three minutes.
“I need to sit, Ireland. You can sit with me, but Mama can’t stand and hold you.”
Another scream, more flailing limbs.
Olivia turns away, dragging a hand down her face as she breathes out an exhausted, overwhelmed chuckle. “Wants me to hold her, but I must be standing while I do it.” She rubs her tired eyes. “Make it make sense.”
“I want Dadaaa,” a wail breaks out from farther down the row, where Connor is slumped over in a chair, both reaching for Rosie and smacking her hands away.