Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
cove
“Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be.”
Robert Browning
The morning sun shines through the floor-to-ceiling window of our Chicago hotel room. Daylight came too soon, my body craving the way we fell together during nightfall.
The pleasure.
The defiance.
The praise.
The caretaking.
We showered, Stetson insisting on washing my hair and surprising me again with his skills of many colors. He braided my hair. Braided my long, curly hair into two uniform French braids.
I run my hand across them against the plush pillow at my head. His technique was perfect, causing me to immediately investigate how, when, and why. His answer? All for his little niece, Stella.
Because Stella and Uncle Stetson have sleepovers, and she has curly hair just like me. And that cute fact sent Cove into cardiac arrest from her heart bursting. Could he be any more perfect?
“You look breathtaking,” Stetson’s warm voice addresses me from the bedroom threshold. “Sleep well?” he asks, sauntering toward me in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs with a piping cup of coffee in both hands.
He places mine on the nightstand beside me and kisses my forehead. “Hi.” I smile softly, wiping the sleepiness from my eyes. “Better than ever. How about you?”
“Like a baby,” he mumbles hoarsely, the remnants of a long night lingering in his voice. One thing I’ve learned is that Stetson is a talker in the bedroom. Whether it’s to praise, degrade, or simply worship me, he’s gonna do it and do it well.
And I’m a filthy hoe for it.
Setting his coffee to the side, he lifts my body up and maneuvers himself behind me, caging me in between the hold of his legs and arms. I release an exhale that feels like it’s been pent up for ages.
“I’m sorry for being so chaotic. I don’t even know what to make of my life right now.
I just know my mom needs me, and I realize now that I can help her while still having you. ”
Kisses pepper along the side of my head, and I feel the weight that comes with being in Stetson’s arms. It’s not a sensation of fear or dread, but of protection and peace.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt peace.
“You have me. We know we both care about each other in ways that mean much more than friends. Let’s see what happens.
Take it day by day. Just no more double dates,” he grunts, biting the lobe of my ear and causing me to giggle.
“I like the sound of that.” I peer up at him from the side, taking a mental note of the lines along the side of his face.
He laid on his side for the very little time we slept, never not facing me.
I couldn’t help but dream of a better time, where none of the restrictions currently acting as a barrier to my happiness existed.
I could get used to the slow mornings. In fact, I crave them. Work a little less and be more present at home. Preferably, with Stetson. But making plans right now terrifies me after my conversation with Nathaniel.
Something in my gut tells me he won’t make it easy on me.
“What were your parents like?” I ask, running my fingertip along the outside of his forearm. Dark hair intertwines with the brightness of my painted nails, causing the starkest contrast. I’ve never been with someone as old as Stetson, but I’m convinced I’ve missed out on the best thing.
Age means nothing in the eyes of love.
Love? Is that where I’m headed? Maybe not yet, but could be.
Stetson clears his throat. “Let’s just say you’re looking at the walking, talking doppelg?nger of my father.
I look a lot like him in his prime…naturally,” he teases, making me laugh.
“In all fairness, my pops and I are so similar it’s uncanny.
He spoke his mind when the time felt right, but never once raised his voice.
He never got angry in a way that bestowed fear.
But you knew when he was upset. His eyes gave that away easily.
My mother actually called him ‘fire eyes.’ It never made sense to me until I got a bit older, noticing for the first time that my pops had never really yelled at me.
And fuck did I deserve it when it came.”
“Somehow, I can imagine that so clearly. A man just as kind and steady as you. The two of you working on the ranch together during the summer while your mom manages from afar, bringing out batches of homemade sweet tea and muffins when you need a break.”
It sounds like a really great life. Much different than the way I grew up.
He holds me tighter, like he never wants me to leave. “You’re not far off, my love. Sometimes, she’d be out in the fields with us. Moving cattle, assisting Dr. Gilmore, milking, seeding, the list goes on. Anything Pops and I could do, Mom did better.”
It makes me happy to know Stetson was fortunate enough to be raised around so much love. A partnership between his parents, something I’ve learned is a rarity once children are brought into the family. “What about siblings?” I ask. “Only one?”
My body hums as Stetson not only answers my question, but also begins to undo my braids, removing my hair ties and loosening them one by one.
“Just me and my younger sister, Abigail. She’s a loose cannon, but I love her for it.
We’ve been lucky to be each other’s best friends for all of our adult lives.
She gets me. Respects my work and why I love it so much.
Plus, she gave me a ridiculously cute niece and nephew. ”
Sometimes, conversations like this make me sad. Not because I’m not happy for the person, but because all my life, I wanted nothing more than a family. A family full of siblings, a mother and father who loved each other, and all the pets.
Dogs. Cats. Fish. Turtles. Horses. A highland cow. The justifiable.
Instead, I just had my mom. Which, don’t get me wrong, I’m eternally grateful for, but when the hard days come—usually mixed with sad ones—I selfishly wish for more. I knew a pet of any kind was too much of an ask as a child, refusing to give my mom one more thing to take care of.
Maybe I should get a pet…since the motherly side of me left when my sperm donor did, maybe finding a pet to adopt will give me an additional sense of purpose. Along with some company. I’d love to give a little fur baby a happy home. Except, I’m not even sure that’s allowed in our penthouse.
I’m gonna have to ask Jerry when I get back home.
Talking to Stetson right now has me feeling everything but sad.
Maybe he can sense my thoughts because he tilts my head upward to look at him.
“Hey, look at me,” he whispers from a breath away.
“Everyone has a story. Ours is just different. I bet you and your mom have some pretty great memories. I can almost guarantee she’s a good time if she raised you. ”
I peck his lips quickly before facing forward again.
“Oh, we’ve got wine coolers packed full of fun times together.
” Once my braids are untwined, Stetson massages his fingers through my scalp, loosening up the tightness in my hair.
It feels euphoric. “Speaking of wine coolers, we own too many to count. Still to this day, every Thanksgiving, we gift each other one. I thought Betsy was going to murder me when I told her reducing my collection was nonnegotiable when living together.”
“Wine coolers?” he chuckles. “What’s the backstory on that one?”
“Well, since it was just the two of us and most of Mom’s family lives in New York and some in Italy, we never went big for holidays.
Especially Thanksgiving. We decided when I was twelve to bail on the hundreds of invites from friends and start our own tradition.
Totally forgetting that stores are closed on Thanksgiving Day, the only thing we found open was a gas station.
Mom has never really carried purses, so we needed to find something to stash food and drinks in for the movies. ”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re a dollar store junkie?”
I break into hysterics. “To my core, Mr. Cole. The dollar store hated to see us coming.”
“Okay,” he urges, calloused hands still working my sore scalp. “So, what happened at the store?”
“The only acceptable bag we could find was a severely overpriced wine cooler. We stuffed it full of candy, a mini wine bottle for Mom, and a root beer for me. Then we spent the day at the movies, hopping from one theater to the next. I don’t remember a time in my life when I laughed so much.
It’s been our tradition every Thanksgiving since.
“Seems like a tradition worth continuing. So, you still gift them each year?”
I nod. “Sure do. Once I turned twenty-one, we traded out my root beer for a full wine bottle. It’s our favorite gift to give. Just wait until you see my collection.”
Oops. I don’t miss Stetson’s pause. Freeze. Aborting all movement together at the sound of me making plans. “Or maybe I’ll just add to it.”
“Are you saying you want to be a part of our tradition, Stetson?”
“Maybe.”
Why doesn’t that terrify me?
“For the first time in a long time, I don’t hate the sound of that.” He turns my head to meet his, our eyes locking in a way that feels tethered. Like they’re finding their rightful place—together.
“That’s one step in the right direction, then,” he whispers against my lips before kissing me softly. “Why don’t you let me feed you, and you can tell me all about your Christmas tradition next?”
My stomach growls, and I’m positive nothing sounds better.
I hold up a finger. “Just one request.”
“Let’s hear it,” he chuckles.
“Biscuits and gravy.”
Not even a second passes before Stetson belts out a full-body laugh and throws me on my back in a fit of tickles. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”