Epilogue #2
“That is my security crew. Well, there are some on board as well, but they will be following us and making sure there are no issues. So drink, enjoy.”
I took my champagne as Noa moved forward, eager to check out the space.
“How have you been?”
“Ran into some trouble in Turkey,” he admitted. He waved it off, but I could see the darkness in his eyes.
“Sorry to hear that. Did it all get sorted?”
“We shall see. But let’s not talk about that. Let’s show you to your cabin.”
We fell into step behind him and Noa turned to me, eyes wide, and mouthed What the fuck?
Because, yeah, if you weren’t used to such over-the-top wealth, it was almost hard to believe. I mean, who the hell had something nearly the size of a cruise ship for a floating home that you only used occasionally?
We got a room without any of the big windows on the deck because Zayn assumed we’d want our privacy.
He wasn’t wrong.
“I feel like I packed wrong. Shouldn’t I be wearing an evening gown to go to dinner?” she asked when we were alone in our cabin.
“Right? Trust me, it’ll get good and trashy eventually. Next place we stop, I’m sure the guys are going to find some girls to join us. Then clothing is going to be entirely optional.”
Noa let out a little laugh at that.
“I’ve never seen so many boobs as I have since I started going to the clubhouse. And I have a set.”
“Yeah, you do,” I agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out for her.
She let me pull her closer, didn’t fight me as I dragged her down to straddle me.
“You know, we’re supposed to just be getting our bathing suits on.”
“We are,” I agreed, hands sinking into her ass. “No one said I couldn’t help you take your clothes off.”
“Well, that is true,” she agreed, lifting her arms up over her head.
I was happy to help her get out of her shirt, then her bra.
“I have an idea,” she said, leaning down to press her lips into my neck.
“Yeah? What’s that?” I asked, barely able to pay attention as her hips ground down on my cock and rocked.
“We go to bed early tonight,” she told me, pushing me flat. “Then we get up really early. Before the sun.”
“Why?” I asked, palms covering her breasts, loving how her eyes flashed and her thighs clamped to the sides of mine.
“This yacht is huge,” she told me, wiggling harder against me. “I think I’d like to take a little… run across it.”
My fingers tightened on her skin.
“Yeah?” I asked, my voice husky.
There were a lot of things to love about Noa. The way she not only humored but enjoyed my little kink was pretty high on that list. Fuck, I’d chased the women all sorts of places already. And when we talked about future vacation plans, I could tell that we both had that kind of thing in mind.
I couldn’t wait for a lifetime of catching this woman.
Noa - 13 months
“Tell me again I’m not doing something really, really stupid,” I told Velle as I tapped my fingers against my thigh, too restless to stay still.
“It’s not stupid.”
“I went behind his back.”
“For a birthday present.”
“But he hasn’t shown any interest in this.”
“Let me reframe that,” Velle said in that soft, reasonable tone of his.
Like I was a dog about to race off into traffic, and he was trying to coax me toward the shoulder.
“What Caymen, in fact, said, was that he didn’t think his foster father would be interested in this.
He never said that he wouldn’t. From everything I’ve heard him say about this foster home, and everything you’ve told me he’s told you about it, he is very open to this. ”
“I hope so. It would be a really shitty birthday present if he’s upset or uncomfortable about it.”
I had made sure to thoroughly vet the foster father myself before I even thought about saying anything about Caymen. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to do damage when I was trying to help if the foster father turned into a mean old man or didn’t look back fondly on his fostering days.
As it turned out, Sam Stratford was still fostering. Mostly focusing on older teens who were about to age out of the system. He seemed to be giving them life skills and the support they needed to go off into the world and not feel completely lost.
From my one (not super creepy) stakeout, I saw him teaching a few teenagers how to work the grill, do something under the hood of an old car, and relocate a giant snake.
Everything about him and the kids seemed happy and open and everything Caymen had described.
Once I was sure he wasn’t a risk, I approached him, introduced myself, and name-dropped Caymen and Dixon.
“The Cider boys?” he asked, immediately breaking into a grin. “I’ve always been worried about those two. Rough home life. They okay?”
“They are. All grown up now. In a bike club because they said you had such good things to say about yours. And Caymen still cooks a mean steak on the grill.”
“You’re his girl, aren’t you?” Sam asked, his golden eyes crinkling.
“I am.”
“He good to you?”
“The best.”
“Good. Good. I worry about all my kids. But some I worry about more than others. I knew Dixon would be alright because he had Caymen. Wasn’t sure how long Caymen could take all that pressure before he snapped.”
“He never did. He got them into the club and that was good for both of them. It let him step back and let Dixon come into his own. And it let Caymen finally shrug some of the weight of the world off his shoulders.”
“He deserved that. Been carrying it his whole life. Glad to see he’s got someone in his life too.”
“That’s actually why I’m here. I was curious if you would be interested in reconnecting.”
“For his birthday?” Sam asked. I swear my heart swelled at his words.
Because he did truly care about his kids.
He remembered a birthday from over a decade ago.
“I still write all their birthdays on my calendar when I fill it out every year,” he said, reading my expression. “Keeps the memory alive.”
“That’s sweet.”
“It’s a fulfilling thing, giving teens some stability and guidance. But it’s a heartbreaking calling too. So many kids you will never see again, never know how they are doing, if what I did had any impact.”
“It did. More than you know. I don’t know who Caymen would be today if he hadn’t come across you when he did.”
“Thank you,” he said, his eyes looking glassy. “And, yes, of course. I would love to see those boys again. But only if it’s on his actual birthday. I have four extracurriculars I need to show up for the rest of the week.”
“It will be,” I assured him.
We talked a few more minutes, I gave him the address and time, then left and prayed I hadn’t done the wrong thing.
“This is good, Noa,” Velle assured me, reaching out to squeeze my wrist. “Trust your instincts.”
Everything in me screamed that some part of Caymen needed this, needed to reconnect with the father figure that had set his life on the path that led to the club. To his found family. And, yes, to me.
“Why are you so pale?” Caymen asked, coming over toward where I was standing in the backyard, away from the crowd so I could keep an eye on the driveway.
“Hm? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the, uh, lighting.”
“You mean the sun?” Caymen asked, shooting me a confused smile.
Velle gave my hand another squeeze as a truck pulled into the lot. Not Sam. My dad. Who, yeah, had also become a bit of a father figure to Caymen. The two talked more than I talked to my father, I swear.
“Nate,” Caymen greeted, giving my father one of those manly handshake back-pat hugs. “Thanks for coming.”
“Gotta show up for the family,” he said, and I could see how much those words meant to Caymen.
He’d already given Caymen his birthday gift the last time we had dinner. He bought tickets so, I kid you not, the two of them could go to a boat show.
It was as my father was walking away to get a drink when Sam’s truck pulled in behind my father’s.
Caymen was distracted, watching a group of the kids squeal as they ran around with water guns full of food-dyed water, playing their mother’s less messy version of paintball.
So it wasn’t until Sam was a few feet away that Caymen turned and saw him.
Sam stopped walking, just stood there with one hand holding a bag of cheese puffs (the crunchy kind I knew were Caymen’s favorite) and sour gummy candies (also a favorite).
“Happy birthday, son.”
Caymen’s face went slack for a moment before a look that was almost pained crossed his face. I would never tell anyone else, but I was pretty sure there was some wetness gathered in his eyes at that greeting.
Caymen closed the space between them, gathering up his old foster father in a real hug. Sam’s hands went around Caymen too and I didn’t even try to fight away the tears that flooded and poured down.
They broke apart, and Sam held up the treats. “These used to be your favorite.”
“They still are.”
“Had a feeling.”
“Sam?” Dixon’s voice called, making everyone turn to see him standing there, a beer half-raised to his mouth.
“You old enough for that yet, son?” Sam asked.
Dixon’s greeting was just as heartwarming.
And when they broke apart, Sam reached into his pocket. “I know it’s your brother’s birthday, but since I missed yours…” He pulled out a yo-yo—the clear kind with the lights. Dixon, a full-grown adult, freaking beamed.
I knew from a drunken story one night by the pool that Sam had been the one to teach Dixon how to do all the tricks with a yo-yo.
This man was an angel walking among mere humans.
“Baby…” Caymen said, making me jerk to find him right beside me. As soon as he had my attention, he leaned down to press his forehead to mine. “Thank you.”
My heart was going to burst.
“Caymen, man, hate to ask you on your birthday,” Eddie called. He didn’t. We’d discussed this very moment before Caymen woke up. “But can you watch the grill for a minute?” I wanted a way for Sam and Caymen to have something to do in case things felt awkward at first.