Chapter 22 Austin
TWENTY-TWO
AUSTIN
The Sunday-morning light poured through Selene’s kitchen window, catching the edge of her smile as she handed me a mug of coffee.
Her hair was a clump of wild waves, her bare feet silent on the old wood floors, and the hem of my T-shirt flirted with the tops of her thighs like it had secrets it was too shy to share.
I was warm. In my bones. In my chest. In the quiet, satisfied ache still lingering after what we’d done in her bed.
She had been draped across me only a few hours ago, moaning my name like a secret she didn’t mean to spill.
It had been the kind of sex that stripped you bare—not just skin, but soul.
Her body had taken everything I gave her, and then reached for more, like she didn’t know how to stop.
Fuck, I couldn’t stop either.
It hadn’t just been good—it had been real. Messy and consuming and honest in a way I hadn’t felt in . . . well, ever. I’d been high on her ever since. Maybe that was why the air felt sweeter, the coffee tasted better, and the light slanting across the floor looked like something out of a dream.
I leaned against the counter, sipping slowly, watching her move around like she wasn’t already taking up permanent residence under my skin. Everything felt soft. Easy.
I would have been happy to stay tucked into this lazy kind of rhythm all morning, the kind where time blurred and nothing needed to be decided right away. I was still barefoot, shirtless, wearing the same worn sweatpants I’d pulled on after our second round in her bed.
It was perfect.
I was about to ask her if she wanted lunch—or if she’d prefer a repeat performance upstairs—when a knock cracked through the quiet.
We both froze.
Her brows pinched. “That’s odd . . .”
I shrugged. “Maybe one of your sisters?”
Her smile flickered. “They don’t patiently wait outside.”
My shoulders straightened instinctively. “You want me to get it?”
She hesitated, then nodded as her gaze landed on the front door. “Yeah. Okay.”
I padded to the door and pulled it open—only to come face-to-face with Brian.
He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and hadn’t enjoyed it. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled and untucked, and he was holding Winnie, who was clinging to his shoulder, flushed and sniffling with her face pressed against his neck.
Brian’s gaze flicked over my bare chest with a flash of surprise.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, his tone laced with embarrassment. “Winnie’s not feeling great. Said she wanted her mom.”
Brian looked wrecked. His jaw was tight, his gaze impatient as it flicked past me.
I had barely processed the words before Selene was beside me, reaching for her daughter with the kind of calm urgency I’d only ever seen in mothers. Her voice dropped an octave—low, soothing, steady—as she ran a hand over Winnie’s hair and felt her forehead.
Selene nuzzled Winnie without hesitation. “Oh, sweet girl,” she murmured, rocking her side to side. Winnie folded into her like a sigh, still sniffly, still fussy—but quieter now. “You’re burning up.”
Winnie’s arms wound tighter around Selene’s neck, her little fingers clutching like she was trying to anchor herself. The sight punched the breath out of me.
Selene’s whole body had shifted. It was like watching someone switch dimensions. She was still the woman I’d had my hands all over this morning, but now? She was a mother, full and entire. Protective. Soft. Unshakable.
Something in my chest cracked open.
Brian’s gaze shifted to me, and heat flashed in his eyes. Not a smile—more like a knowing smirk. His eyes dragged over me—bare chest, sweatpants, clearly not a neighbor stopping by for sugar.
The cat is definitely out of the bag.
“You’re always so good with her. I knew no one would make her feel as good as Mom,” he said with genuine affection woven into his words.
Selene offered him a tight smile and nod as she swayed with Winnie in her arms.
“Should I stay? We can take care of her together.” Brian’s hand landed on Selene’s shoulder.
I watched him touch her, blood tightening in my temples. White-hot jealousy ripped through me.
Asshole.
Selene swallowed hard, but she said nothing in response. She simply adjusted Winnie on her hip and whispered something into her hair before easing away from Brian’s touch. “No, thanks. She probably just needs a little Tylenol and some rest. I’ve got it.”
I stood there, useless. My coffee cooling in the kitchen. My head spinning.
Brian lingered on the porch, clearly not wanting to leave, but he eventually relented. I tracked him as he moved down the porch steps and disappeared behind the wheel of his car.
Selene carried Winnie inside but didn’t look at me right away. She was too busy shushing Winnie, too busy smoothing back her hair and guiding her to the couch. But when she did glance over, something in her expression had changed.
Our bubble had burst.
I wasn’t her maybe-lover standing barefoot in her kitchen anymore. I was a bystander in the middle of her real life. Selene was already on the couch, cradling Winnie close, murmuring nonsense into her hair. She looked up at me once, eyes a little apologetic.
“Do you want me to stay?” I asked quietly, rubbing the back of my neck.
Selene looked up, eyes soft but distracted. “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it.”
She smiled—polite and grateful, but distant. It was not the smile I’d kissed this morning. Not the one that had broken me open an hour ago while she’d moaned my name into the pillows.
Was she embarrassed that Brian had caught us together?
He had known a part of Selene I would never be privy to. Having a child together created an unbreakable bond, and I couldn’t help but feel like the scum of the earth for wishing it weren’t him that had that piece of her.
“I’ll call you later,” she added, her voice light but unreadable.
I nodded, even though I wanted to ask for more. Even though I hated leaving when she might need some help.
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Okay.”
She nodded again. Her focus was already on the girl curled in her arms, her whole world shrunk to a sick child and the instinct to comfort.
I grabbed my sweatshirt and headed for the door. As I stepped out into the late-morning sun, I tried to shake the weight in my chest. I let myself out, the door clicking behind me, and crossed back to my side of the duplex with the oddest sensation in my chest.
Like I’d just stepped out of something warm and gone barefoot into snow.
The muffled sound reached me before the sun did. A soft thump. Then a hiccuping cough. Something wet. The strange noises filtered through the thin walls and were followed by Selene’s voice—low and cracked and not quite right.
I sat up slowly, my hand braced against the bed, listening harder. Another sound. Not quite crying, but not nothing either.
I rubbed a hand over my face. It was the middle of the night—maybe three?
—but this was usually the day I crossed the porch to help with breakfast or get Winnie dressed.
Seeing Brian and Selene on the doorstep yesterday had sent me into an oddly jealous tailspin.
I hadn’t stopped thinking about either of them.
Not for a second.
I pulled on a shirt and headed downstairs. I crossed the porch steps and knocked, but there was no answer. After a beat, I used my key and pushed the door open gently.
“Selene?” I called, soft and low.
No answer.
Then—
“Oh, honey—no, no, no—wait—” I could hear Selene’s voice from upstairs, sharper now. Panicked.
Something splattered, and when a barely audible whimper floated down the stairs, that was enough for me.
I took the stairs toward Selene’s bedroom two at a time.
I found my girls in a tangle on the floor of the primary bathroom—Selene crouched on the tile, cradling Winnie, who looked utterly miserable.
Her dark waves were sweaty and stuck to her forehead, her face flushed, and her little hands clung to her mom’s shirt like she was trying not to fall apart.
There was vomit. Not crime scene worthy, but enough to ruin a morning.
Selene was still in the same cotton shirt from yesterday—my shirt, technically. Her hair was messy, pulled half up in a clip that was losing the fight. She looked pale. Exhausted. Her knees were buckled like she might collapse.
“Hey,” I said, moving toward them. “Let me help.”
Selene looked up at me, startled. “I—I’ve got her. I just need a—”
“Selene.” I crouched beside her and gently slid Winnie into my arms before she could argue. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine,” she lied unconvincingly, blinking too slowly.
Winnie pressed her overheated cheek against my chest. She didn’t even protest the transfer, which told me exactly how bad she felt.
“This is nothing,” I said, giving her a small smile as I stood with Winnie. “I’ve seen worse. Locker rooms. College road trips. One time at the gym, a guy puked on my shoes mid–dead lift.”
Selene made a weak noise that might’ve been a laugh—or a sob. I couldn’t quite tell.
“Sit down,” I told her. “You’re running on fumes.”
“I’ll clean it—”
“I said sit.” My voice was still soft, but firmer now. “You did the night shift. I’ve got this.”
She swayed a little on her feet, then finally nodded, sinking back to her knees in front of the toilet.
I carried Winnie across the bathroom, cradling her against me as I ran cool water into the sink and grabbed a clean washcloth. She didn’t say much, just clung tighter when I set her down on the countertop to rinse her off.
“You’re okay, bug,” I murmured, swiping the damp towel across her sticky cheeks. “You’ve got two grown adults who are absolute messes and still somehow trying to keep you alive. That’s gotta count for something.”
Winnie sniffled. “My tummy hurts.”
“Yeah. I know.” I patted her shoulder, feeling helpless. “Mine would too after chicken nuggets and four bites of a crayon yesterday.”
She gave a faint giggle. At least the kid still had her sense of humor.
Once she was clean and wrapped in a fresh towel burrito, I walked her into Selene’s bedroom and placed her on one side, tucking her into the plush comforter with a small trash can beside her, just in case.
Then I headed back into the bathroom to find Selene, arm draped on the toilet seat, the other arm draped across her stomach. She was breathing slowly. Too slowly.
“Hey,” I said gently, brushing the backs of my fingers against her neck. She was burning up. “Selene.”
“Hey.” Her eyes opened, heavy lidded and glazed. “I think I’m gonna—”
She didn’t finish the sentence before bolting straight up.
Winnie whimpered and called for her mom, but I reassured her. “Mom’s okay,” I said, even as I heard the unmistakable sound of Selene losing her last meal. “Just a stomach bug, Win. It’s nothing but a silly bug.”
I worked quickly at the bathroom sink, running a clean washcloth under cool water. Selene was slumped beside the toilet, her knees tucked beneath her, one hand braced against the wall.
She looked absolutely miserable, and when she was wrung out, Selene rested her forehead on her arm.
“Hey there,” I said, kneeling down beside her, flushing the toilet. “I told you. You need to lie down too.”
“I’m not—” Her voice broke as she reached for the cold towel I handed her. “Ugh. I’m not usually like this.”
“I know.” I rubbed her back in slow, easy circles. “You’re usually bossy as hell and a little scary before coffee.”
She gave me a weak smile.
“Come on.” I helped her to her feet, careful and slow. “Let me take care of you for a change.”
She didn’t argue that time. I lifted Selene in my arms and enjoyed the brief moment she sagged against my chest.
I tucked her in beside Winnie, both pale and drowsy, curled under the same soft blanket. I sat for a minute on the edge of the bed, just watching them breathe, unsure of what I should do next.
I’d never had to worry about taking care of anyone but myself, but I’d seen enough movies to know the basics.
I found a thermometer and checked both of their temps, confirming that whatever bug Winnie had come home with had been successfully passed to Selene.
I grabbed the ginger ale from the pantry and dug around until I found some goldfish crackers and saltines.
When they both drifted off again, I padded into the bathroom, rolled up my sleeves, and started cleaning.
I wiped down the counters and floor, then switched over the laundry. I rinsed out the towels and took the trash out before bleaching the toilet for good measure.
I called the school to let them know Winnie would be out for at least a day, then phoned in sick to work around nine. I didn’t even hesitate—they needed me more, and the crew would be fine without me for a day or two.
And the weirdest thing? I liked it.
I’d never been the guy someone trusted with this kind of thing. I was the “fun one,” the “casual one,” the guy who always showed up with snacks and tequila but not the one who stayed to clean up the mess.
Playing house was never part of the plan. It wasn’t sexy. It certainly wasn’t smooth. It sure as hell wasn’t easy, but it still felt like the best damn thing I’d ever done.