CHAPTER 30
I watch as Sophie pushes the food around her bowl, her tiny nose wrinkled as she discovers the green spheres hiding in the creamy sauce.
“Peas?” She pokes at one with her fork.
“That’s the surprise ingredient.” Gavin winks at her from across the table. “They’re magic peas.”
“Magic?” Her eyes widen, fork pausing mid-poke.
“Absolutely. They’re swimming in the alfredo sauce, which makes them taste like…” He taps his chin, pretending to think. “Well, why don’t you try one and tell me what they taste like to you?”
I hide my smile behind my napkin, watching their interaction.
She carefully spears another pea, examining it closely before putting it in her mouth. Her eyes light up. “It’s yummy!”
“See? Magic.” Gavin grins, shooting me a triumphant look.
The dinner conversation flows easily. It feels…almost normal. The kind of family dinner I’d always dreamed of giving Sophie.
“So,” I clear my throat, “I hear there might be some birthday plans in the works?”
Gavin chokes slightly on his sweet tea, and Sophie’s eyes go wide with panic.
“It’s okay, sweetie.” I reach over to squeeze her hand. “Remember what we talked about in the car? It’s okay that I know.”
“But it was s’posed to be a surprise.” Her lower lip trembles.
“And it still will be,” Gavin jumps in smoothly. “Because even though your mom knows something’s happening, she doesn’t know what we’re planning. Right?”
Sophie thinks about this logic. “Right!” Then she freezes. “Can I be s‘cused to go potty?”
“Of course, baby. Do you remember where it is?”
“Yes ma’am.” She slides off her chair and scampers away, her footsteps echoing through the house.
The moment she’s gone, my mind kicks into overdrive. Birthday plans. People. Attention. Exposure. My throat tightens as the possibilities spiral through my head. What if Matt shows up? He’s already ruined too many of my birthdays, what if—
“Hey.” Gavin’s voice cuts through my rising panic. He reaches for me, his hand hovering near mine but not quite touching. “Where’d you go just now?”
I force myself to take a deep breath. “I just… parties mean people. People mean risk. Risk means—”
“Bailey.” He cuts me off, gentle but firm. “Look at me.”
I lift my eyes to meet his. The warmth in his gaze helps to settle the pit in my stomach.
“It’s not a party. Just something with you, Sophie, me and Ms. Lucy. People who already know you, who care about you.”
My fingers twist in my napkin. “But what if—”
“What if we have a beautiful day celebrating you?” He finishes for me. “What if Sophie gets to see her mom smile and laugh? What if you get to feel, even for just a few hours, like you don’t have to look over your shoulder?”
Tears prick at my eyes. “I want that. God, I want that so much. But Matt—”
“Matt doesn’t get to steal this from you too.” There’s an edge to his voice now. “You’re safe here. Sophie’s safe here. I won’t let anything happen to either of you.”
The conviction in his voice makes my chest tight. I want to believe him. Part of me already does. But the part that remembers Matt’s promises, his rage, his fists…
“Sophie’s coming back.,” Gavin says softly, withdrawing his hand. “Just think about it, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.”
Sophie bounds back into the room, climbing into her chair. “Can I have more magic peas, please?”
“Of course you can.” Gavin serves her another helping, and I watch as she digs in.
“So,” I say, forcing a lightness into my voice I don’t quite feel, “about this birthday surprise…”
“Mama, no hints!” She points her fork at me.
“Not even a tiny one?”
“Nope!” She pops the ‘p’ sound, something she’s recently learned to do.
“What about you?” I turn to Gavin, trying to ignore how my pulse quickens when he smiles. “Any hints?”
He pretends to zip his lips. “My lips are sealed. But I will say this. We think you’re going to love it.”
The certainty in his voice makes me wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Does he see the broken pieces I’m trying to hold together? Or does he see something else, something I’ve forgotten how to see in myself?
Sophie finishes her second helping of pasta, her fork scraping the bottom of the bowl. “Can we watch a movie?”
“Actually,” Gavin stands, gathering plates, “I thought we might do something else tonight. If it’s okay with your mom?”
I raise an eyebrow, curious.
“I got some new board games. Including one called Candy Land that I hear is pretty awesome.”
Sophie’s eyes light up. “Mommy, can we?”
“One game,” I concede. “But then we really need to get you into the bath little miss and then mommy needs to shower too.”
Sophie clapping her hands, and Gavin’s smile could light up the whole room.
As we clear the table together, our hands brush when we both reach for the same glass. The contact sends a jolt through me, and I pull back quickly. Not quick enough to miss the look in his eyes, though, a mix of understanding and something else, something that makes my cheeks warm.
We set up the game on his coffee table, Sophie kneeling on one side while Gavin and I take the couch. There’s plenty of room between us, but I’m acutely aware of his presence. The way he smells faintly of his cologne pulls me back to earlier this morning. The way his laugh rumbles deep in his chest when Sophie gets excited about drawing a double purple card.
For a moment, watching them together, I let myself imagine a different life. One where I don’t jump at unexpected sounds. Where Sophie never has to whisper because she’s afraid of making daddy angry. Where evenings like this, simple, joy-filled evenings, are the norm rather than the exception.
But then I remember the last time I let my guard down, the last time I believed in safety and happy endings. The bruises have faded, but the lessons remain.
Still, as Sophie moves her piece across the rainbow path and Gavin tells increasingly ridiculous stories about each candy location, I can’t help but think that maybe some risks are worth taking.
Even if it’s just the risk of enjoying playing a board game.
I stare at the ceiling, watching stars dance across it thanks to Gavin’s night light. Sleep evades me, my mind racing with thoughts of my birthday. Sophie’s excited face when she went to bed, Gavin’s mysterious plans. It should bring joy, but anxiety churns in my stomach.
Rolling over, I check my phone: 2:17 am. Nugget lifts his head from the foot of the bed that he claimed again when Sophie and I came to bed, his tail thumping against the mattress.
“Can’t sleep either, boy?”
He scoots over, resting his chin on my leg.
“Okay, okay.” I swing out from under the sheets, my bare feet hitting the cool hardwood. “Let’s go.”
The living room is bathed in moonlight filtering through the curtains. I wrap my arms around myself, my thin sleep shirt doing little to cover me up. Nugget trots ahead of me, but instead of heading to the back door, he makes a beeline for Gavin’s room.
“No, Nugget,” I whisper-hiss, lunging for his collar. “Come here!”
But he’s already scratching at the door, his nails making a soft but distinct sound against the wood. I grab his collar, trying to pull him back, when the door swings open.
My breath catches.
Gavin stands in the doorway, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips. My eyes trace up involuntarily. Defined abs ripple under his skin, a washboard of muscle that makes my mouth go dry. His broad chest is dusted with dark hair that narrows into a tantalizing trail disappearing beneath those low-hanging sweatpants. Strong shoulders, sculpted like they were carved from marble, flex slightly as he shifts his weight against the doorframe. And finally, my gaze reaches his face. Sleep-softened but alert, his hair is mussed, and those eyes watch me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle all over.
Nugget chooses this moment to yank free, trotting off toward the kitchen like his work here is done.
“Traitor,” I mutter under my breath.
“Bailey?” Gavin’s voice is rough with sleep. “Everything okay?”
I’m suddenly very aware that I’m standing here in a thin sleep shirt and underwear. The way he’s looking at me sends heat coursing through my body.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I manage. “Nugget was just… I’m sorry we woke you.”
He leans against the doorframe, and the movement makes his muscles shift in ways that short-circuit my brain. “Don’t apologize. I wasn’t really sleeping either.”
The air between us feels charged, heavy with unspoken things. I should step back, say goodnight and return to my room. But my feet won’t move.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks softly.
I shake my head. “Just… too much in my head, I guess.”
His eyes search mine, and I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with my minimal clothing. “Birthday jitters?”
“Something like that.” I wrap my arms tighter around myself.
He takes a step closer, and my heart thunders against my ribs. “You know you’re safe here, right?”
“I know.” And I do know, that’s what scares me. The way I feel safe with him, the way my body relaxes in his presence despite everything my mind screams about staying guarded.
His hand comes up, fingers ghosting along my arm, and electricity shoots through me. “Bailey…”
The way he says my name, like a prayer and a question all at once, breaks something loose inside me. I think about the other night, about his hands in my hair, his lips on mine. About how long it’s been since someone looked at me the way he does, like I’m something precious, something desired.
“We should go back to bed,” I whisper, but I don’t move.
“Yeah, we should.”
The statement hangs between us, loaded with possibility. My eyes drift to his lips.
“What do you want, Bailey?” His voice is deeper now, sending shivers down my spine.
What do I want? I want to feel something other than fear. I want to be touched with tenderness instead of anger. I want to feel wanted, desired, beautiful, all the things I see reflected in his eyes when he looks at me.
“I want…” The words stick in my throat.
His hand comes up to cup my face, and I lean into his touch without thinking. “Please…”
“I want to stop being afraid,” I breathe. “I want to feel… normal again.”
“You’re extraordinary,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. “And you deserve to feel that way.”
My hands find his chest of their own accord, skin warm under my palms. His breath hitches, and the sound sends a bolt of heat through me.
“Gavin…”
He leans down, resting his forehead against mine. “We can stop anytime. Just say the word.”
But stopping is the last thing on my mind. My fingers trace the planes of his chest, exploring, learning. His muscles jump under my touch, and his hands lower to my waist.
“Bailey,” he whispers, “you’re killing me here.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “Am I?” The darkness is making me brave, I guess. There’s something about the shadows that makes confessions easier, hiding the vulnerability in my eyes while his gaze seems to glow even in the dim light. My heart pounds against my ribs.
A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, but it cuts off when I rise on my tiptoes, bringing our faces level. His eyes search mine one last time, asking permission.
And I answer by closing the distance.
His lips are soft against mine, gentle at first, like he’s afraid I’ll break. But when I press closer, threading my fingers into his hair, something snaps. He turns us around and walks me backward until my back presses against a wall in his room, one hand cradling my head to protect it from the impact.
The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in it. In the way his body feels pressed against mine, in the little sounds he makes when I tug his hair, in the way his hands roam my sides like he’s mapping every inch.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. His dark, intense gaze, fixed on my face.
“Bailey, what do you want?” He asks in a low rumble, his breath warm on my face.
I want this. I want you. The words hover on my tongue, but I can’t quite release them. I’m scared that saying them out loud will make them too real, too vulnerable.
Instead, I tug gently on his hair, bringing his face back closer to mine. His gaze filled with desire, hold mine captive as he reads the answer.
Without a word, he slowly lifts me, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, my hands still tangled in his hair. He closes the door softly with one hand, never breaking eye contact. Then he carries me to his bed, laying me down gently like I’m something precious.
The air between us is electric, charged with anticipation. He hovers over me, hands on either side of my head.
“Can I try something?” he asks, his voice hoarse with an edge of vulnerability I’ve never heard from him before.
I tense involuntarily, my mind racing. What does he want to try? A spike of anxiety ripples through me.
Matt never asked permission, he just took.
No.
No thinking about Matt.
Not now.
I banish the thought forcefully, mentally slamming a door on those memories. Instead, I focus on the here and now. On Gavin, who studies me with such reverence, looking at me like I’m something to be savored, something precious and deeply desired. The way he waits, patient and still, for my answer makes my chest tighten with emotion.
“Yes,” I breathe, my heart pounding so hard I’m certain he can hear it now. My fingers curl slightly into the bedsheets beneath me, anticipation making every nerve ending come alive.
He doesn’t need further invitation. Slowly, he lowers himself to my center, his fingers deftly sliding off my underwear. I lift my bottom up from the bed to help the process and then he lowers his head further. His tongue starts to make slow, languid strokes, teasing me, tasting me. My breath catches as pleasure sparks through me, and I thread my fingers through his hair, urging him closer.
He takes his time, exploring every inch with his mouth, the coarse brush of his jawline tickles the inside of my thighs and I squirm under his attention, I arch off the bed as sensations I’ve denied myself for so long come rushing back.
Then he surprises me, his tongue still working its magic, I feel him slowly add a finger, and then another one, working them inside me. It’s an exquisite combination, his tongue on my sensitive nub and his fingers filling me. It’s too much stimulation, my body is on fire with a need I haven’t felt in so long.
I’m teetering on the edge, my breath coming in short gasps, and then he hits that spot with his fingers. It sends me spiraling into an intense orgasm that rips through my body. My hands fly to my mouth to muffle my cries as my legs clench around his head. He doesn’t stop, riding out the waves with me, prolonging the pleasure until I’m a boneless, trembling mess beneath him. My body shakes with the force of my release, and I’m left feeling utterly spent and satisfied.
Finally, he lifts, a satisfied smile curving his lips. “Better?” he asks, his eyes glinting with a mixture of desire and triumph.
I can only nod, my breath still coming in short gasps. “That was…” I trail off, unable to find the words to describe what just happened.
He chuckles, the sound sending a fresh wave of desire through me. “What can I say? Pleasing the birthday girl is my top priority today.”
I reach up, tangling my fingers in his hair again, and pull him to me for a kiss. This man, this incredible man, just gave me something I didn’t even know I needed.