40. Austin
FORTY
AUSTIN
“I don’t think that’s gonna fly with your mom,” I say, taking in Rhys’ first day of school outfit.
After our talk with them yesterday—the one where they were both completely confused because they thought Paris and I had been dating for months—we decided it was best if I didn’t stay the night.
As happy as we were that they’re completely on board with our relationship, we still want to go slow and ease them into things.
Eventually, I’d love to move them into my place, but we aren’t in a rush. We have plenty of time for that.
“Why not?” he replies, dropping his chin to his chest and giving himself another once over. “I want the other kids to know I’m a football player now. I was just a baseball player before.”
I cringe, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, but I made a deal with Paris.
I’d see to it that the boys were ready by the time the bus arrived, and she’d soak her body in a warm bath to combat the after-effects of yesterday’s make-up sex.
I tried to be careful with her, but something about the woman makes me feel like I’m never deep enough.
She’d probably beg to differ with the way I had to help her down the stairs this morning, but hey.
I’m insatiable when it comes to my girl, and I won’t apologize for that.
“The thing is, bud,” I begin, careful to keep my words as kind as possible, even though he looks like he got dressed in the dark.
“Your jersey has a Gatorade stain that kinda looks like pee, and your cleats are covered in mud from a month ago. Also, I know school can feel like a full-contact sport sometimes, but I doubt you’ll need a helmet. ”
His shoulders slump, the mouthguard that hangs from his facemask swinging back and forth.
“Fine. But what do I wear? I want them to know that I’m a Renegade.
” That one hits me right in the feels, and I almost fold like a lawn chair right before his eyes.
But I dig deep, remaining strong as I offer what I hope to be an acceptable alternative.
“How about your new shirt that says ’Gades Forever, and the shoes Maddox gave you from his kids’ line? He signed them for you, didn’t he?”
His eyes light up with excitement, an ear-to-ear smile stretching across his face. “Mom said I should keep them on a shelf because they’re special. Do you think it’s okay to wear them?”
I shrug. “It’s not like we can’t just go to his house and politely ask for a new pair, right? You guys are basically best friends now.”
“Whoa,” he marvels, his mouth falling open. “We are best friends. We have playdates and everything. Livvy even said we act like we’re the same age.”
I chuckle, relief washing over me now that we’ve averted a potential wardrobe crisis.
I’m sure he’ll tell all his friends about how he spent yesterday with Maddox Dane, playing catch and chasing the ice cream truck down the street.
I’m so grateful that the team stepped in to help when we needed them, making memories that the kids will remember for a long time.
Even Lennon came home with a brand-new wardrobe, complete with handbags and shoes because Stella just couldn’t help herself.
Rhys races up the stairs, shouting boisterously about how he can’t wait to tell the others that his best friend is the most amazing quarterback ever.
I still don’t love the sentiment, but maybe I can change his mind over time.
Either that, or I’ll tell him about the time he thought Livvy was a robber and almost wet his pants. That might work, too.
“Not bad,” Rowan says, sidling up next to me.
“I think you might be a natural.” I can’t help but laugh at what a little man he is, always keeping the best interests of his family right at the forefront of his mind.
I’m hoping that my presence will make him feel more comfortable just being a kid and letting me hold the heavier stuff while he has normal eight-year-old fun.
He deserves all of that and more…they all do.
“Thanks,” I reply with a smirk, giving his outfit a quick scan. “You look nice. How do you feel?”
He smiles, something I wasn’t sure I’d ever see the day I met him.
He was shy and hard to read, but I think he just longed for someone to put in the effort to really get to know him.
I’m glad I did because fuck. The kid is exceptional.
So smart and funny—ready to step up and lead, even when it’s a little scary.
I have no doubt that he’ll make a lasting impression on this world as he gets older.
They all will, thanks to the woman who sacrificed everything to break the cycle they were in.
Paris is a phenomenal mother, and I’m beyond grateful to have the best seat in the house as she continues to find all the amazing parts of herself that she was forced to hide for far too long.
Rhys all but stumbles down the stairs in his new and improved outfit a moment later, followed by the two most beautiful girls in the world.
Lennon’s toothy grin is contagious as she sits on her mama’s hip, her brown bunny hugged between them as they take the stairs one by one.
As always, Paris is a showstopper, the flowy purple dress that hugs her tits giving me a million bad ideas as I drag my heated gaze from her head all the way to the stilettos that I’d let her dig into my chest as I begged for more.
See—bad ideas.
We go through what I’m assuming is their normal First Day ritual, taking pictures of the boys holding up a little chalkboard with their grade and a bunch of fun facts. As usual, Rowan looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, while his brother is all smiles the entire time.
Paris snaps one last photo, finishing up just as a loud diesel rumble echoes through the air.
The bright yellow school bus stops at the end of the driveway, and we give quick hugs and high fives before they take off running.
A pang of unease twists in my chest as they make their way up the metal steps, fading slightly when they find an empty seat and slide in next to one another.
A second, more persistent punch of anxiety hits me the moment they pull away, and suddenly, I have a million questions.
Do buses have seatbelts?
Shouldn’t Rhys be in a booster?
How do we know the driver isn’t a psychopath who has lampshades made from human skin in his living room?
My pulse speeds up, cold sweat beading along my neck and temples as my throat begins to narrow.
I feel like I’m choking, but while every instinct in my body is telling me to jump into my truck and follow them to the school, I can’t get my feet to move.
They’re too heavy. I’m too heavy. If something bad happens, I need to be there to save them, and now I’m stuck to the ground.
Fuck!
Shit!
Fuckshit!
Oh my God. I think I’m having a heart attack.
“Are you okay?” Paris says, her familiar voice snapping me out of my school bus-induced panic.
I turn to find her and Len staring at me with confusion written all over their expressions, both of their heads tilted in question as they await an answer.
I search Paris’ eyes for any signs that she’s freaking out the same way I am, but there isn’t an ounce of worry to be found within those calming espresso-colored pools.
I clear my throat, trying my best to act like I wasn’t just two seconds away from chasing them down and demanding the driver’s criminal history and credit report.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” The words come out in a rush, about four octaves higher than normal despite my attempts to hide the internal spiral I’m currently experiencing.
She smirks, dragging her gaze up and down my rigid posture as she adjusts the baby on her hip. “No reason. We should probably get going, though. We still have to drop Lenny off at daycare before we hit the office.”
Great. Now we have to do it all over again.
“Maybe I should take the day off,” I say, reluctantly handing Lennon over to Melody. She goes willingly, clinging to her favorite daycare worker with a happy smile.
“What?” Paris laughs. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird since the boys got on the bus. Now, all of a sudden, you want to take a second day off in a row…from a job you just started?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, bringing my fingertips up to rub at the tightness in my chest. “It’s just…is this what parenting is like? Danger and uncertainty lurking around every corner, and you’re supposed to let them go anyway?”
The women exchange a knowing look, and Paris takes my hand, interlocking our fingers.
Her eyes are full of sympathy, which makes me feel a little better because at least she’s not going to tell me I’m overreacting.
I know the boys have been to school before, and this isn’t the first time I’ve dropped Len off with her, but something about today feels different. It feels like they’re mine.
“This is exactly what parenting is like, Austin. It’s stressful and scary, but it’s also the most rewarding thing you’ll ever do.
I know it’s hard to let them go at first, but there’s nothing better than seeing those beautiful faces at the end of the day while they excitedly tell you what they did when you were apart. I promise, it’ll be so worth it.”
I exhale a heavy breath, letting the tension in my shoulders melt away with her words.
She’s right. We have jobs to do, and as long as the kids are safe and happy, we’ll be with them again soon.
I can’t wait to hear about Rowan’s new teacher, and how the other kids reacted to Rhys’ shoes.
I get to rock Lennon to sleep later, watching her doze off while she plays with my beard just like she always does.
Fuck. I love them so much. Knowing they’re my forever truly is the best feeling in the world.
“Okay. Yeah.”
Paris looks up at me adoringly, the skin-on-skin contact of her hand in mine grounding me as we say our goodbyes to Len and head out of the daycare center.
In an attempt to soak in a few more minutes with her, I wait until we’re closed inside the elevator before pressing the button for the seventh floor.
She lifts a brow. “Are you Steele Harlow now? Afraid I’m going to get kidnapped if you don’t drop me off at my desk?”
I smirk, her playful tone obliterating any leftover anxiety that was plaguing my mind. “Keep it up with that smart mouth, Baby Girl. I have an anal plug with your name on it if you’re looking to get punished.”
Her cheeks heat, and she swallows, biting her lower lip as she looks forward.
I love that, even though we’ve explored quite a bit, she’s still got an air of bashfulness to her.
Maybe that’s an underlying corruption kink talking, but her trusting me to take care of her will always turn me on.
It’s my favorite fucking thing in the world.
The rest of the ride is quiet, neither of us abandoning the other’s hand as the metal doors open and we step out of the elevator.
The place is empty when we arrive, Paul’s office door open with no signs that he’s been here yet.
The desolate space clearly has her wheels turning, as she suddenly steps ahead and yanks me down the hall.
“Where are we going?” I chuckle, knowing damn well that she’s up to no good.
But I follow anyway, anticipation swirling in my stomach at the mere thought of being alone with her.
She doesn’t say a word as we stop outside the storage room door, pushing it open and leading me into the darkened space.
The moment we’re shut inside, she’s on me, her hand cupping the back of my neck as our lips collide.
It takes me a split second to register what’s happening, then I’m giving it right back, my tongue plunging into her mouth as I deepen the kiss.
She’s so damn sweet, the caramel cappuccino she drank on the way here still lingering as I lick and suck.
My cock begins to thicken inside my boxer briefs, leaking precum from the tip because I just can’t seem to get enough of her.
“I love you,” she murmurs, her breath dancing across my lips.
My hands lower, finding her ass and giving it a firm squeeze as she moans quietly.
I’m aching and desperate, but I know we can’t go further than this, despite how badly we both want it.
Her fingers grip my hair, a bolt of pleasure shooting down my spine when she pulls just the smallest amount. Fuck, that feels good.
“I love you too, baby. So fucking much.” Saying those words—whether in the throes of passion or just because I want to—will never get old.
I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for her, and I’m going to make her aware of what she means to me every chance I get.
Paris isn’t just my girl…she’s my everything.
We make out for what seems like seconds and hours all at once, eventually pulling away when we hear some rustling in the lobby. We listen intently as the footsteps fade, and Paul’s door closes with a muffled snick, telling us that he’s already in work mode.
“You’re going to get me fired,” she says, her plump lips curving into a wicked smile as she smooths down her wild brown curls. “What would Mr. Grant say if he found me in here with his offensive coordinator?”
My eyes widen, my jaw dropping in faux offense as my head rears back. “Excuse me? You pulled me in here. Not the other way around. Seems like maybe you’re the bad influence now, Baby Girl.”
She waggles her brows, pushing up to her tiptoes for one more chaste kiss. “Maybe I always was. I just needed someone who knew how to bring it out of me.”
And goddamn, am I happy to be him.