37. Selena
Selena
The drive to their home seems to take forever. Or maybe it’s just the fact I know that soon I’m going to be there, in their bubble, where I can’t hide from them. Each time I think about it, my heart starts beating faster and I have to remind myself that it’s just until Sam and Jose get back.
When we pull into the driveway, I can’t help but stare out the window in surprise.
The neighborhood and the house isn’t what I’d expect them to live in.
Their home is a cute two story with cream-colored siding and dark green shutters.
But what has me gasping is the wrap around porch, with a line of flower beds around it.
My dream house stands before me, and damn if it’s not owned by my stepbrothers. The only thing missing is a swing.
Zeke gets out of the truck and opens my door.
He wanted me to sit in the front, but I refused, reminding him he had longer legs than I did and needed the extra legroom.
Thankfully, even though Jay sat beside me in the back, he and his brothers were busy in a conversation about some event the firehouse was part of.
When we step onto the porch, my eyes immediately drift to the welcome wreath on the front door.
It’s white with a mix of red and has tiny fire hats and miniature fire trucks attached to it.
Every fiber of my being is fighting back the laugh that wants to burst from me.
This is even more unexpected than the house itself.
“Here we are, home sweet home.” Eli's voice is only what I can call bubbly as he unlocks the door to their house.
The moment I step inside, my expectations are shattered all over again. Fuck, if these men don’t keep surprising me.
I’ve been picturing what their home looks like since I left the hospital. In my mind, all I could see was pure chaos. Dirty dishes. Laundry piles. Empty pizza boxes stacked in corners and beer bottles on tables.
Instead, what I see is worlds apart from that. It’s lived in, but clean. Family pictures hang on the wall and there are even fucking coasters on the coffee table. Coasters. Since when do men care about something like that?
It isn't spotless. But it’s lived in. It feels comfortable. And that makes me nervous.
“I’m going to order us some pizza for lunch. Any preferences, Princess?” Eli asks.
“No.” Then I pause, worrying my lower lip. “Nothing too spicy or crazy. Maybe I should just start with cheese. You know, since I’ve been sick.”
“Don’t worry, I got you.” He heads toward the kitchen, and I can’t take my eyes off his ass as he walks away.
A throat clears from beside me and I know I’ve been caught. “Let’s give you a tour and show you your room.” Zeke smiles mischievously when I glance over at him.
“The kitchen is that way,” Jay gestures toward the doorway Eli disappeared through. “There’s also a formal dining area over there too, but we usually just eat at the counter in the kitchen or here in the living room.”
“We can eat at the table if you like,” Zeke quickly adds.
“That’s okay. My couch is pretty much my table too.” I laugh nervously.
“Our rooms are upstairs, and there's a spare bathroom there as well,” Zeke explains.
“Living room, but that’s no mystery,” Jay laughs as he places his hand on the small of my back and guides me forward, but not before I have a chance to truly look at the room. There’s a massive sectional couch with the biggest television I’ve ever seen hanging on the wall over the fireplace.
“There's also a guest bathroom here,” Jay adds as they lead me down a hallway. “And here is the downstairs master suite.”
My throat tightens. They’re giving me my own room. For some reason, I just expected to be sleeping on the couch or an air mattress.
Zeke opens the door and steps inside, placing the small bag I had from the hospital, carrying the few items they bought me and my father’s picture, on the dresser.
My hand goes to my mouth, smothering the small gasp I let out.
The room is bigger than my bedroom. The walls are soft grey, and the bedroom furniture looks to be cherry oak. It’s gorgeous. There are no pictures on the wall, but that doesn’t take away from the beauty. Cream curtains hang over the windows, matching the comforter on the bed.
Pillows upon pillows are on the bed, and I shake my head. There’s way more than one person could need, and that’s not even counting the decorative ones. Did they hire an interior decorator, or are they just that good at furnishing their home?
“We hope it’s okay?” Zeke speaks up as he steps beside me, his arm brushing against mine. The mere touch has my body heating up.
“It’s beautiful.” Is all I can say
My eyes drift to several shopping bags sitting on top of the comforter. Curious, I walk over and peek inside.
“Those are for you,” they say in unison.
There are more clothes, toiletries, and a hairbrush. All the things I lost and need.
"We weren't sure about your size," Zeke says from behind me. "So we kind of guessed."
"We got you a few things," Jay adds. "Pajamas, some sweats.”
Zeke clears his throat awkwardly. "And underwear."
I turn toward him and despite everything, a small laugh escapes me. The normally confident man beside me has a tinge of pink on his cheeks.
"Anyway," Zeke mutters. “We figured once you’re feeling better we can take you shopping and get the rest of what you need. Or you can order it online.”
I have to remind them I’m not staying long.
"The other bag has a laptop," Jay adds.
My eyes go wide in confusion as my jaw drops. Surely I misunderstood. They’ve already done so much and more than what they needed or were expected too.
"A laptop?"
"Yeah. We know you work online. We figured you might need one." Jay smiles.
I don't even know what to say. No one has ever done anything like this for me. Ever.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Cupcake. We’ll give you some time alone to get settled. You have your own bathroom through that door.” Zeke gestures toward the door across the room.
"Come out whenever you're ready." Jay winks at me.
Their gazes linger on me for a moment before they turn and leave the room, closing the door behind them.
I turn in a circle, taking in the room, overwhelmed by all that’s happened in such a short time. The babies, the fire, and now this. I sit carefully on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking beneath my weight.
Tears stream down my face, yet I don’t wipe them away. Call it hormones or stress, but everything’s hitting me at once, and crying is all I can do to react.
I need to let Sam know I’m here. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I send him a quick text.
Me: I’m at their house.
His response comes almost immediately. As if he were waiting for it.
Sam: It's going to be okay.
I’m about to respond when I see the bubbles bouncing up and down on my screen.
Sam: Selly, think about telling them about the babies. No matter what you do, I'm always here for you. Just give them a chance to step up.
Me: I don’t know. I’m scared.
Sam: I think you do and you want to face it. They have been there for you. Showing you how they’re committed to you with no pressure. If they didn’t care they wouldn't have brought you home with them. They could have let you go to your mom’s.
I don’t respond. I can’t, so I drop the phone on the bed beside me. Laying down, the room blurs as fresh tears fill my eyes.
From the moment they knocked on my door, they’ve been taking care of me. Little by little, pushing their way into my life while I’ve been holding this secret.
My eyes drift over to the dresser and the bag sitting on it. Standing up, I make my way over and take out the framed picture of me and my dad. My fingertips rub aimlessly across his smiling face.
"Hey, Dad," my voice cracks as I whisper.
Moving across the room, I climb back on the bed and roll over on my side, curling in on myself as I clutch the picture tightly against my chest.
“I miss you so much. What do I do? Give me a sign?” I ask, knowing he doesn’t have a way to give me an answer.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Deep breaths over and over, calming myself.
Then I let my mind start making lists of what I need to do.
Insurance claims for my damaged property.
I need my car. My clients need to know what happened and reassurance that everything is going to be okay.
Then I need to contact my bank and credit card companies.
Right now I have no access to my money. And that reminds me; I need a new driver’s license.
Suddenly, just like that, I have new things to obsess over other than telling the three men in the other room that one of them is going to be a daddy.