Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RAVEN
R uby liquid trickles down the polished wood stairs of our house. My eyes trace its path backward up the winding staircase to find the source.
“Mom? Dad?” My call echoes down the marble floors, but there’s no reply, which isn’t out of the ordinary. Mom is probably out shopping, and Dad is probably at the country club.
My foot touches the first step, and a tingle creeps up my neck. I take the second step, and my mouth goes dry. Every bone in my body is begging me to turn around, to run out the front door, and call the police.
But I can’t look away.
I need to know.
When I’m halfway up the staircase, a body comes into view. It’s upside down with the face buried in the steps. But I don’t need to see his face to know who it is.
I know that hair. I know those clothes.
“Noah?”
Little hands, cold on my warm body, wake me with a start. Opening my eyes, I find Noah, dressed for school with his backpack on and everything.
The dizziness from my sleep accompanies me into day and pushes to transform into nausea. My muscles feel weak. My brain is still exhausted.
I need coffee and something chocolate.
“Mom,” Noah says, tapping his foot. “I need you to wake up.”
“What time is it?” Blinking, I search my bed and nightstand for my phone.
“It’s 7:30.”
“Oh sh—crap! Sorry, little king. I didn’t hear my alarm go off.” I swing my legs out from under the covers and sit up.
I knew working nights would be difficult with having to get up in the morning.
But I should have also factored in that my bed is made of clouds that were blessed by God himself.
Usually, I get good sleep, with last night being the exception.
I’m going to need to do something in order to actually wake up in the morning.
Rubbing my eyes, I let out a larger-than-life yawn. “Let me get some clothes on, and I’ll grab you a quick breakfast to eat in the car.”
“I already had a Pop Tart.”
Dear Pinterest Moms, please don’t come for my head. Sometimes, Pop Tarts are just easier.
“Shit,” I curse as I check the time again, noting I only have a few minutes to get Noah to school on time. I let myself slide with that one. Desperate times call for profanity. Sue me.
Noah bites his lip, holding back a laugh at my groggy swearing.
“Grab me a Pop Tart. I’m getting up,” I instruct Noah.
Two minutes later, I meet Noah downstairs. I forgot to rotate the laundry last night, so all I have is a Mudhouse sweatshirt from New York and my sleep shorts. My bridge troll chic look won’t be winning any awards, but it will have to do.
Noah hands me my Pop Tart, and as I’m opening the front door, he asks, “How are you getting me to school?”
I really need to do something about my quality of sleep.
Groaning, I step outside, hoping a solution will appear in my driveway. But what I find is a whole new reason to swear.
“Holy shi?—”
Noah covers my mouth with his hand. When he pulls away, he’ll probably have drool covering his palm because in my driveway are two men.
Two shirtless men.
Specifically, my bosses.
Knox is kneeling on the ground with a lug wrench in hand, tightening bolts on the front passenger tire of my car. Griffin is in the same position but working on the back wheel.
The heat of the morning has them dripping with sweat in a way that’s completely pornographic.
Griffin’s jeans hang low on his hips, giving me a glimpse of that sexy V-thing I thought was only achievable in Photoshop.
I think the phrase “abs of steel” was made for Griffin.
I spy black calligraphy on the side of his rib cage, but I can’t make out what it says.
The waves in his hair look like they were styled at a high-end salon, although I’m positive he wakes up looking like that.
The way his arms flex with each turn of the wrench has my core weeping for attention.
Knox’s ass is nice and snug in his jeans.
I’ve never stared at a man’s ass before, but Texas is proving to bring on a whole slew of new experiences.
His torso is like that of a Greek statue.
He has all the muscles I didn’t know existed.
His hair is pulled into a bun, but small pieces of hair at the front have fallen, highlighting the strong lines of his face.
Knox’s back is covered in ink. The face of a skull with hollow eyes is surrounded by flaming trees. It’s a work of art.
My pussy clenches, making my need grow. I didn’t think bodies could look like that. Now I know what people mean by “eye candy.”
Lord, have mercy on me, please.
Griffin drops the wrench, swiping a rag hanging from his back pocket and wipes the sweat from his face. “I win!”
“It’s not a race,” Knox grumbles back.
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not,” Knox retorts, setting his own wrench down on the pavement.
Noah drops his hands and gives me a confused look. “Why are you staring, Mom?” His question gets the attention of both Knox and Griffin. My toes curl, and my face turns crimson.
Caught red-handed.
“Uhh…” I’m interrupted before I can come up with an answer.
“Good morning, Sunshine.” Griffin beams at me. The mischievous look in Griffin’s eyes gives me a picture of what he would do to me right here, right now if we were alone.
“Mornin’,” Knox greets with a smirk. A flutter in my chest travels to my core as Knox gives me a once over.
They jump up from the ground and head right for me, snagging their shirts along the way. And thank heavens, they don’t put their shirts on.
My brain finally pushes through the drowning thoughts of sex and realizes what they were just doing.
“Knox!” Noah exclaims.
“Hey, Bud,” Knox greets back with a single wave.
“He’s my friend who taught me how to throw a football,” Noah informs me with a smile, pointing at Knox.
“Sure did,” Knox confirms with pride. He reads my expression and answers my question before I can voice it. “It was the other day. Noah accidentally threw the football at me, so I showed him the correct way to throw it.” He looks from me to Noah. “Have you been practicing?”
“Yes,” Noah returns with a smile.
My mouth goes dry as my chest tightens. He…they…I can’t put this ache in my chest into words.
I clear my throat, but my voice still cracks with emotion. “Did y’all change my tires?”
“Yep. All four.” Griffin is shining with pride.
My eyes blink rapidly. “I only had one flat.”
Knox shrugs, but Griffin is more than happy to explain. “That is true, but we wanted to be sure you wouldn’t get another flat like the other day.”
I swallow the emotion building in my throat. “Let me know how much I owe you for your time and the tires.”
“No compensation necessary. We were happy to do it,” Knox replies.
My knees grow weak as something inside me begins to right itself.
Is this what it’s like to have people in your corner? Is this how it feels when someone does something for you because they want to and not because they expect something in return?
Walter and Georgia didn’t have a charitable bone in their bodies.
Growing up in their homes taught me that love is conditional.
If I did what was expected of me, then I was rewarded.
But my little brother didn’t understand that.
He didn’t fit into their mold of what they wanted him to be.
Walter wanted a son who didn’t show emotion, liked football and golfing, and got good grades.
Noah Kelly didn’t live up to those expectations.
Georgia wanted a daughter who danced ballet, played tennis at the country club, and looked pretty while doing it all.
I made myself small. I folded in on myself to fit that rigid idea of who I should be.
After my ballet recitals, Georgia would buy me a Hermès purse. After I’d defeat our neighbor’s daughter in singles tennis matches, Georgia would buy me jewelry from Tiffany’s. After I won Miss Teen Texas, Georgia bought me multiple designer dresses.
But my brother didn’t get the same treatment.
When Noah failed his math test, he didn’t get dinner. When Noah wanted to play video games at home rather than football at school, Walter broke all the electronics in Noah’s room. And when Noah cried, Walter used his fists. It’s no surprise that Noah became depressed.
But now, I have two men in my life who care and want to help. And I didn’t have to do anything to get their help. They give it to me freely.
“Thank you so much,” I whisper as tears swim in my eyes.
“Happy to do it,” Griffin responds.
“Moooom,” Noah whines.
“We’re going, we’re going,” I assure him. “Sorry, I gotta get Noah to school.” Grabbing Noah’s hand, I step to move around the tempting brothers in front of me, but I’m stopped in my tracks. Literally. Knox steps in my way.
“We can take him,” he offers.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” I release an exhausted laugh.
“It’s no problem,” Griffin insists.
“Ooo! Please, Mom! Please!” Noah jumps up and down, pulling on my arm. “Can we take your motorcycle?” Noah asks Knox.
“That’s up to your mama,” Knox answers.
I tilt my head. “You have a motorcycle?” I should be more worried about my son riding a motorcycle, but I’m still a bit muddled by the half-naked bodies in front of me.
I think I’ve found my weakness—the lickable muscles on my boss’s bodies.
Knox nods. “Yeah, I park it in our garage.”
My focus goes back to Noah. “How do you know he has a motorcycle?”
Noah’s ears turn red. “He rode it after he showed me how to throw.”
Forcing my mom brain to turn on, I think over letting Knox take Noah to school and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Pleeeeeeease,” Noah begs. He folds his hands together and holds them in front of his face, wearing his best puppy eyes.
I nibble on my lip and turn to Knox, making up my mind. “No speeding.”
“Of course.”
“He has to wear a helmet,” I add.
“That’s a given,” Knox confirms.
“No weaving around cars.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Knox soothes.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I look down at Noah. “Listen to everything Knox says, no talking back, and no asking to stop at Mystic Beans.” Kat has gotten Noah hooked on the pastries there. Every time we go, she gives him one for free.
“Thank you!” Noah exclaims with a huge smile on his face and takes off toward Knox’s garage.
“I’ll keep him safe, Darlin’.”
The unease in my gut settles. “Thank you.”
Knox takes a step closer, and it’s like every nerve in my body is humming. I want no space between us. But my front yard is not the place for the kind of things my body wants.
He gently grips my chin and bends down. His lips grace my cheek. So soft, so tender. He doesn’t wait for my reaction. Instead, he turns and strides off after Noah, slipping his shirt on as he goes.
My cheeks flush again when Griffin clears his throat. He has yet again been privy to an intimate moment between his brother and me. His twin brother.
“Go back to bed, Sunshine. There’s still time before the library opens. We’ll get Noah to school.”
Griffin mimics Knox’s step forward. But instead of my cheek, his lips touch my forehead, lingering.
I close my eyes and allow the peace he gives me to spread through my limbs.
The gesture feels intimate. He’s not even really kissing me, yet I feel like we need to find a private room.
Like this public display of affection would make an old woman clutch her pearls.
“Sweet dreams,” he whispers against my forehead. He swiftly steps away, pulling his shirt over his head and stalking to his driveway, where Knox has already fitted Noah with a helmet.
My stomach tangles itself in knots.
It’s just for fun. They wouldn’t want me if they knew everything. Don’t get attached.
Knox starts the engine with a kick and heads down the driveway on his motorcycle at a slow pace with Noah tucked safely in front of him. When they pass, Noah wildly waves goodbye, and I return the sentiment by blowing a kiss to him.
They stop at the stop sign, but don’t move forward. I’m about to call out to them and ask if everything is okay, when another engine fires up and Griffin exits their garage.
Of course, they both have bikes.
When Griffin pulls up next to Knox and Noah, Griffin holds out his fist to the side, and Noah meets it with his own, giving Griffin a fist bump. Griffin whoops, and they all take off.
Standing there, dumbfounded, I realize that Noah is going to ask for rides every day for the rest of his life, and if we move, there won’t be anyone to do that with him.