Chapter 64 #3
He’s bubbling like a carbonated soda that’s been dropped repeatedly. Each time he opens his mouth, he pops the top, spewing sugary syrup everywhere.
It’s disgusting and beautiful.
He grabs my shoulders, giving me a shake. “And now we have another brother. Another handsome bloke. Will he be cool like us, or will he suck? Who knows? But we get to find out. Together. How could life possibly get any better?”
Damn. I was so freaking wrong.
“Perry, man. I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve—”
“For what? You don’t have anything to be sorry about. Except for what you just called me.”
I can’t stifle the grin, even as I explain, “I wasted so much time thinking this news would destroy you like it did me. We could’ve reconnected years ago if I weren’t such a dumbass.”
He bunches his mouth to the side, hemming and hawing.
“Perhaps. But honestly, the timing worked out for the best. If you had told me years ago, it might have broken me. When I thought Sammy was dead, I was in a dark, dark place. If you’d have found me then, I hate to think of how it would’ve gone.
Good chance I wouldn’t be standing here now. ”
His point is valid. It still grates to know we could have had each other all this time.
With one more reassuring sentence, my brother unravels the remaining threads of regret that’ve covered me for so long.
“Turns out, you did protect me, big brother.”
He’s right.
I’ll never admit it to him because he’s already the president of his fan club.
But he’s unequivocally right.
Sometimes life has a magical way of working shit out at precisely the right time.
Take that, Morgan Freeman.
Beautiful mental silence.
Once the moment passes, Sawyer tosses an arm over my shoulder. We head to the door where we’ll try to act like nothing out of the ordinary occurred.
Then I fucking hear it.
That condescending voice.
“Well, friends. It seems our hero has finally made peace with his demons and freed his soul from the chains of his youth. Ahead of him lies only blue skies and happiness. What a beautiful ending to his tale.”
It takes all my might not to deck my twin. For he hath no idea what he’s done.
Instead, I shake out of his flimsy hold and turn on him. “Never. Ever. Use that voice again.”
Affronted, Sawyer palms his chest. “I beg your finest pardon, my good sir. But what is the actual fuck?”
“That British one? Fine. Never the other.”
“Aw, man. It wasn’t good. I thought I nailed it.”
“You did. That’s precisely the problem.”
He narrows his eyes, assessing me openly. “Later, we’ll have a beer, and you can show me on this doll where Morgan Freeman hurt you.”
“You didn’t even see the best part yet,” I tell Lila, leading her toward the back porch with my hand on the small of her back.
“What?”
As if I summoned their call, one of our feathered housemates shrieks loudly from the yard.
The second squawk convinces me loud was a gross understatement.
Holy fucking hell, that was deafening.
What have I done? I’ll never have a moment of peace again.
Lila’s instantaneous reaction makes it worth it. She’s all the peace I need.
Little cartoon hearts appear over her head, and her chest heaves with a massive gasp. Bobbing with exuberance, she squeals, “Ahhh! No frickety frackety way.”
Unlike when we got out of the car, she bolts away without waiting for me. I won’t read much into that. Surely she loves me more than birds, right?
Reaching into the pantry, I retrieve a bag of seeds and join her out back.
I find her on her knees, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders subtly quake with sobs.
Taking a knee, I skim my knuckles over her shoulder. “You okay, cookie?”
She drops her hands, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and glistening eyes. “Are these . . . my peafowl?”
“Why? Do they look familiar?” I tease, unable to resist.
Her ponytail flops over her shoulder when she twists her neck to study her flock. Or whatever the fuck it’s called. Probably some dumb word for it because the English language loves nothing more than to complicate things that should be simple. Like bologna and colonel.
Her hope shines over her like a fireworks show. “They do.”
I wink, knowing I’ve delivered her first dream come true. “They are.”
Giving no warning, she leaps toward me, tumbling us both to the dirt. We’re already gross from the heat of the day, so who cares if we get some farm crud on us. We tangle together, bodies aligning until she ends up on top of me.
She peppers my face with lip-smacking kisses, squeezing my cheeks between her hands. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss, kiss, kiss.
Through rioting laughs and belly guffaws, I facetiously ask, “Do you like it or not? Don’t leave me in suspense.”
Lila dishes it right back. “No, I hate it. This is the worst thing you could have ever done for me. We’re through.”
We end up making out until we’re distracted by a chorus of cat calls and immature goading from the house.
With rosy cheeks of embarrassment, she shimmies off me.
Dammit.
Who invited those cockblocking fuckers?
Then again, they’re doing all the heavy lifting while I’m soaking in Lila’s effervescence. I suppose they earned the right to be dicks. I’ll fuck her on a blanket under the stars out here another time.
We sit together for a few minutes, neither of us compelled to erase the silence. She takes my hand, placing it on her lap. And we simply exist in the serenity of nature.
Nobody’s out to get us. Most of her worries are in the past. She’s safe.
And fucking hell, she’s happy.
Which means I’m happy. That’s the perk of having a soul-deep connection like ours.
Finally, she releases a weighty exhale and pins me with one of those grins that makes life worth living. “Reed, I love you so much. And this is incredible. The house. The birds. The farm, which I had no clue I’d love so much. I guess you knew, though.”
Sensing she isn’t finished, I remain quiet.
Her neck muscles undulate with a swallow. “I would’ve been fine at your condo. You didn’t need to give it up for me. The height wasn’t bothering me . . . much.” She bites her lip, quashing a giggle.
“I know I didn’t need to do this.” Gathering a few strands of hair that escaped her hair tie, I tenderly tuck them behind her ear. “I wanted to.”
“Why? You wouldn't have bought your condo if you didn’t love it and want to live downtown.”
“I don’t love the condo or downtown. I bought it because it had good security and was available when I was ready to buy. Seemed like a smart investment. But it wasn’t home.” I pause to steady my racing heart. “You’re my home. You’ve always been my home.”
Her tears run anew, and this time I kiss them away. Then I capture her sweet, salty lips.
“A farm, though?”
I lick my lips to savor her taste, my eyes drinking in the scenery. “Listen, cookie, we don’t need to become farmers. That’s irrelevant. But take a look around. I might have picked this place, but it’s one million percent you.”
“What makes you say that? I’m not saying you’re wrong. Just curious why you’re so certain.”
I don’t need time to contemplate my response.
It surges from me. “Out here, you can’t help but be a part of nature, which is exactly where you shine the brightest. You shouldn’t settle for good enough just to make someone else comfortable.
I don’t want you fine in downtown. I want you thriving in a place that sings to your soul. ”
I slide my arm around her, holding her close to my side. “If I’m wrong, tell me. We’ll find another place on whatever timeline you want. This is a no-obligation move. No pressure.”
“No pressure,” she echoes in an airy whisper, locking her arms around my waist. “Sounds good to me.”
I kiss the top of her head and inhale the sugary scent of her shampoo.
“There’s only one problem.” She cranes her neck to peer up at me, then jabs her finger into one of my dimples. “Boop.”
“My face is a problem?”
“No, that was something I’ve wanted to do for about fifteen years.”
She presses off me, turning her attention to the pecking birds. Flicking her pointer finger up and down, she silently counts them. Her lower lip juts into a pout when she’s finished. “Not to sound ungrateful, but there’s one missing.”
“We’ll keep trying to get Matt, cookie. He’s a wily one.”
Through a sigh, she releases an airy laugh. “He sure is.” Her face crinkles with curiosity. “Did you buy them from the lesser adjutant?”
I bark out a laugh, startling the birds. “I forgot you called him that. And you were right. He’s a hideous fucker. Should’ve arrested him for that alone.” I feign a cringe. “Sadly, it isn’t a federal offense. I checked.”
“How much did he charge you?”
With a shit-eating smirk in place, I yank the bag of seeds over. “He was very agreeable to my terms.”
“Reed?” She cants her head. “What does that mean?”
I contort my face into a snarl and curve my fingertips like a gangster. “Let’s just say I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
This time, it’s her burst of hilarity that makes the peacocks scuttle away. They come right back, though.
“Was that a Godfather impression? Please, no. Just no.” She snickers through her cupped hand. “I might need to limit your brother-time.”
Shit. She’s right.
Fucking Perry.
If I didn’t love him down to my bones, I’d hate him.
Nah. That’s not true. I imagine nobody can hate that DNA mooch.
When she’s done roasting my impression skills—totally fair—she returns to her question. “What was the deal you made with my former neighbor?”
“He gave me your flock, and I didn’t arrest him for a slew of bogus charges. Most of which I made up because Florida law is unsurprisingly scant on peacock protection.”
“Muster,” she blurts.
“Pardon?”
“It’s not a flock. It’s a muster. Or an ostentation.”
Told you. Stupid English language.
She prods me to explain. “You seriously threatened him with fake charges?”
“Only because I had no other choice.” After opening the bag, I swipe a handful of seeds. “They’re considered nuisance animals. Nuts, right?”
“Those are seeds, not nuts.” She snort-laughs at her joke. “To be fair, they’re loud as all get-out. They leave poop everywhere. And if one of the males sees his reflection in the chrome on your bike, it’s gonna turn ugly fast.”
“You’re really selling me on this farm, you know that?”
With fluttering eyelashes and moon eyes, she holds my gaze while grabbing her own handful of seeds. “You already placed your bet and played your cards, dimples. You can’t fold now.”
“No, but I can use this brand new information about poop and bike damage to my advantage.”
Standing brusquely, she edges a few feet into the midst of our ostentatious muster and flutters the sunflower seeds around her feet. “What’s your play?”
Mirroring her movements, I scatter the seeds in the general vicinity of my nuisances. “Lifetime of sexual favors.”
Her face turns intentionally derpy. “Boo hoo. That’ll teach me.”
I’m a breath away from delivering the perfect retort when we’re interrupted by a showy asshole in a cowboy hat.
On a motherfucking horse.
The peacocks scatter in a huffy race to safety, and Lila dashes to my side.
Nobody said shit about a horse. That sounds really fucking expensive and far more involved than Lila’s birds.
My arms fling to the sides. “What the hell is this, Luke?”
“It’s a horse,” he deadpans.
I roll my eyes and cross my arms.
“Don’t mind me, rook. Just gonna give your property a quick looksee. Get a feel for the land.”
“Where’s Jonesy? That thing better not be staying here.”
“Shoot, you think he’d let you keep an animal this majestic?” He scratches the horse by the mane, cooing at it. “You’re too good for Hayes, ain’t ya, Brutus.”
Lila’s shoulders sag. “Oh, thank cripe. I thought that was another surprise.” Under her breath, she adds, “An unwanted one.”
McBride gives Lila a heated look. “Why don’t cha climb on up, darlin? I’ll show you the sights, give ya a ride you won’t forget.”
Although he’s only yanking my chain, I can’t let that slide. I puff my chest and tug Lila away from this flirty fucker. “How you gonna show her shit with both your eyes blackened and swollen shut?”
He cackles like a cocksure prick, then makes that cliché clicking sound while digging his heels into the sides of the horse. As they trot off, he hollers over his shoulder. “Just makin’ sure it was the right twin out here. The grumpy sumbitch.”
Lila’s all giggles and pink cheeks as I engulf her in my arms to hold her close, right where she belongs. “Agent Cowboy has your number, dimples.”
“That he does, cookie.”
She skims her hands up my chest, settling them at my nape. I can’t resist stealing another kiss, so I lean in slowly. I just need one more euphoric moment before we get back to the grind of moving duties.
With delicate hands, I caress her lower back, then dive down to cup her ass. We mold our bodies together, soft to hard, and light to dark.
I passionately work my mouth over hers, worshipping her plump lips. She opens for me, allowing me to tease and taste her.
Sweet as ever.
When our lips finally separate, she whispers, “Welcome home, dimples.”
“Does that mean we’re staying?”
She gives me a quick peck, big brown eyes dancing and enchanting me. “As long as you’re here, it’s absolutely perfect. I couldn’t love it more.”
“You stole the words right out of my mouth, cookie.”
Her grin turns fiery. “Are you accusing me of a crime, special agent? Again?”
“Where are my cuffs when I need them?”
“Hopefully in our bedroom.”
“If they aren’t, they will be by nightfall.”
Our playful banter floats off on a gentle breeze, and she presses her cheek to my chest. Her arms lock me in place, and I cradle her head in my splayed palm.
Peace, love, and wholeness surround us.
It’s heaven.
It’s the beginning of forever.
I couldn't have said it better myself, Reed.
Does that mean you’re finally leaving, Morgan Freeman?
I suppose so. If you ever get in a bind, I won’t be far away. And if I’m tied up with a bigger, better production, then your twin does a damn fine impression of me. Almost as good as the real thing.
“Of course you’d think so,” I respond.
Using my voice. And words.
Lila jerks her head off my chest. “Of course I’d think what?”
A viable explanation doesn’t materialize. So I nonchalantly shrug and confess, “I was talking to my mental Morgan Freeman. He’s finally leaving now that my story is over.”
She assesses me for less than two seconds. “Please ask him to give my regards to mental Meryl Streep on his way out.”
Before shaking out of my hold, she winks and adds, “For the record, you’ll never top my nonsensical whimsy. I’m more bingo gonzo shaboozi than you’ll ever be. Now, where’s the umbrella remote? It’s tea time in Memphis.”
I love this fucking woman.
A life with Lila will never grow old. Even when we do.