Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
JACKO
We follow Murphy and Sophie out of the stadium. She waddles to the car with a dramatic sigh and a sarcastic, “Try not to have too much fun without me.” Lila shouts, “BYE BABY!” out the window like the baby can hear her, and Sophie just grins, hand on her enormous bump.
I drive us home in comfortable silence, one hand on the wheel, the other loosely tangled with Maya’s in her lap.
Lila’s already nodding off in her car seat, clutching her foam paw like it’s a teddy.
Maya’s quiet, her head resting back, lips curved into that soft smile she reserves for moments like this, when things feel normal.
Safe.
When we get to hers, I carry a half-asleep Lila upstairs while Maya unlocks the door. She’s heavier than she looks, all dead weight and tangled limbs, but she murmurs, “Bear?” against my chest like she knows it’s me, and my heart does this ridiculous flip.
Inside, the flat smells of lavender and home. Maya kicks her shoes off and heads to put the kettle on while I settle Lila into bed. She stirs, mumbling, “I want pizza crusts for breakfast,” and I tuck her in with a kiss to her forehead.
“Dream big, Jellybean.”
When I step into the living room, Maya’s already got tea waiting on the table and that soft throw blanket, the one I’ve been sleeping under, draped across the back of the sofa.
“Thanks for driving,” she says, passing me a mug. “And for winning. Lila thinks she’s your good luck charm now.”
“She’s not wrong.”
We stand there, close but not touching, until Maya reaches for me. I don’t even think about it, I pull her in and kiss her.
It starts slow. Familiar. The kind of kiss we’ve shared in the stolen seconds between Lila distractions and sofa boundaries. But tonight, something shifts. The weight of the game, of her laugh in the stands, of Lila in my jersey, it all presses in.
We’re still kissing when a little voice pipes up behind us.
“Bear, are you Mummy’s boyfriend now?”
We both freeze.
Lila’s standing in the hallway, holding her stuffed rabbit by one floppy ear, blinking up at us like she’s asking whether we had toast or cereal.
Maya chokes on a laugh. I step back, scratching the back of my neck.
“Well,” I say slowly, “I guess I am, yeah.”
Lila shrugs. “Okay. I’ve got a boyfriend too. His name is Mason and he gave me a red crayon. It’s my favourite colour.”
“That’s a pretty serious gesture,” I say, nodding solemnly.
“He also said my curls looked like snakes. But nice snakes.”
Maya covers her face with her hands, laughing helplessly.
Lila pads closer, eyeing me with all the suspicion of a three-year-old with a bedtime agenda. “If you’re Mummy’s boyfriend, why do you sleep on the sofa?”
I glance at Maya, who’s still hiding behind her tea.
“Well,” I say carefully, “because it’s important that you feel safe and happy. And sometimes sharing a bed too soon can be confusing, especially if someone doesn’t quite understand what’s going on yet.”
Lila shrugs again. “You snore anyway. Sofa’s better.”
“Do not!”
“You do,” Maya says, still laughing. “Like a tractor.”
“Rude.”
Lila yawns and rubs her eyes. “Okay. But if you’re Mummy’s boyfriend, does that mean you’re gonna stay forever?”
That one hits me right in the chest. I crouch in front of her, brushing her curls back gently. “If you and your mum will have me? Yeah. I’d like to stay forever.”
She studies me for a long moment, then nods. “Okay. But you have to do those breakfast pancakes shaped like a bear and not burn them.”
“I’ll do my best, Jellybean.”
She throws her arms around my neck and squeezes. “Night-night, Bear.”
“Night-night.”
She toddles off to bed again, dragging her rabbit, and Maya exhales a shaky breath.
“Well,” she says, “that was a surprisingly chill interrogation.”
I take her tea and set it aside. Stepping closer. “You good?”
Her hands find my chest. “Yeah. Really good.”
“You sure?”
She lifts her face to mine. “Stay tonight. Not just on the sofa.”
“You sure about that?”
Her kiss is answer enough.
We move through the flat like it’s made of glass, quiet like even the floorboards are holding their breath so we don’t wake Lila. Our hands are everywhere as though we’re making sure the other is really here.
In the bedroom, Maya hesitates only once before reaching for the hem of my hoodie. “This okay?”
“More than.”
She strips me down with trembling fingers, but there’s nothing rushed about it. Just reverence. Curiosity. A quiet hunger that’s been building between us for weeks.
When I peel her top off, her breath catches. I kiss every inch of skin I uncover, slow and careful and full of things I’m not brave enough to say yet.
She unclasps her bra and I just stop and look.
“You’re stunning,” I whisper.
The rest of our clothes come off in pieces, like unwrapping something sacred. My hands worship her like she’s the only thing that’s ever mattered. Her body, her breath, the quiet way she says my name like she’s telling me a secret.
When I finally slide into her, it’s not just physical. It’s emotional. Soul-deep. She gasps, head tipping back, legs wrapping around me, fingers tangled in my hair.
“Owen,” she moans, and it nearly undoes me.
I move slowly, letting us both feel everything.
Every inch, every shift, every moment of skin on skin.
Her body clutches mine like it’s been waiting.
Like we’re meant to fit. I run my hand gently up her side, tracing the shape of her beneath me.
My palm settles over her breast, and I knead it gently.
Teasing her nipple into a hard peak before my lips close around it.
My tongue laps at the firm bud and I revel in the feel of her naked against my skin.
She rocks against me with desperate rhythm, hips meeting mine, breathy whimpers leaving her lips. I kiss her neck, her jaw, her collarbone, anywhere I can reach. I allow my hand to roam lower until I find her slick clit, and begin to tease her with my thumb while I push deeper inside her.
Maya claws at my back, teeth grazing my shoulder. “Owen…please…don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” I murmur against her mouth. “Not ever.”
She arches beneath me, hair fanned out across the pillow, sweat-slick and beautiful. Her thighs tighten around my hips and I feel her clench, falling apart around me.
“Oh…fuck…Owen!”
Her orgasm rips through her and I follow seconds later, burying myself deep and groaning her name into the crook of her neck. It’s like breaking apart and being rebuilt in the same heartbeat.
Afterwards, we lie tangled together, skin sticky, breath heavy. Her head rests on my chest, and I can feel her smiling against my skin.
Her fingers draw lazy, meaningless shapes across my stomach. “You staying in the bed from now on?” she murmurs.
“Only if the boss approves.”
“I think she’ll make you do morning pancake duty in exchange.”
“Deal.”
She tilts her head up, kisses me again. Slow. Sweet. Sated.
“Welcome home, Owen.”