Kate
The coffee’s lukewarm because I don’t stand a chance of consuming any drink at its preferred temperature, but the summer sun warms me right down to the bone anyway.
I shift in place on the front porch steps, tapping the band of my wedding ring against the ceramic mug, and watch Rhett use Jackson as a human jungle gym on the lawn.
Jackson’s stretched out on the grass, drenched in sunlight, trying his best to keep Rhett’s flailing limbs from knocking him in the face.
And Rhett—who’s somehow ditched every article of clothing except his underwear in the hour we’ve been outside—is talking his ear off about the shapes of clouds overhead, and why Spider-Man is his favorite superhero, and his intricate plan to acquire his own superpowers.
Odessa zips by on her pedal bike, kicking up dust in the gravel driveway, and skids to a stop. She looks up to Colt’s girlfriend’s son, Jonas, like he’s her big brother, and these skid-stops are his new favorite trick, so naturally Odessa’s determined to learn.
She beams at me, and I give her a thumbs-up, smiling back over the rim of my coffee cup.
Placing his hands on Rhett’s torso, Jackson presses his body up into the air with a grunt, holding Rhett above him like he’s flying through the air. The silver of his wedding band glints in the sun.
“If Spider-Man’s a superhero, why doesn’t he fly?”
Rhett scoffs. “Because he’s Spider-Man. He swings.” He gives a wrist flick like he’s expecting webbing to shoot out of his skin.
Jackson squints up at him. “Swinging sounds like a lot of work. I’d rather fly.”
“Then you can be Superman because he’s boring like you. When I grow up, I’m gonna be Spider-Man.”
“Bold of you to call me boring when I could just”—he rapidly bends his elbows, making Rhett drop suddenly—“drop you.” The two of them laugh as Jackson slowly lowers Rhett onto his chest.
My heart squeezes at the sight.
Something shifted with Jackson after Odessa’s birthday, then shifted again the morning she ran away. Seeing him interact with the kids now, I don’t know why I was so shocked by his kitchen table confession. He might’ve been present before, but now he’s engaged. He’s in love with his kids.
Odessa whips around the corner again, this time catching a particularly large rock on her attempted skid. The front tire wobbles, leading to a high-pitched shriek as the metal frame flops over, and she tumbles into the grass.
Jackson’s head shoots up to look at her. I can’t even tell where his craniotomy scar is hidden beneath the thick brown hair he’s grown back in the months since the accident. “You okay?”
Odessa sits up, picking a rock from her knee, and quickly replies, “No blood!”
“So…that’s a yes, you’re okay?” Jackson’s eyes bounce from our daughter over to me. “She’s going to be the death of me, isn’t she?”
I laugh. “Wait until you see her on a horse. You’ll grind your teeth down to nubs.”
I’m used to this—barely even flinched when she went over. Some days I long for when she was an immobile infant, because that was the last time I knew peace. The moment she learned to roll, we were in trouble.
“Speaking of which…” Jackson lifts Rhett off of him so he can prop himself up on his elbows and look over at Odessa. “I know it’s a few months late, but I think it’s time we get you that horse you were promised.”
Odessa jumps to her feet, dead grass falling from her rumpled jeans and T-shirt. A wide smile splits her face, and she flicks her tangled brown hair away from her eyes. “You’re serious?”
“So seri—” He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before Odessa’s tackling him, arms wrapped around him in a hug, her entire body slamming him back down to the ground.
Rhett sees the opportunity to dogpile and doesn’t hesitate. He flops his body on top of his sister’s with a silly giggle. Jackson groans under the added weight, reaching up to tickle Rhett’s side.
I sit there, smiling like a fool, reveling in all of this.
The warmth of the sun, the laughter on the lawn, the total normalcy of this moment.
And not the new normal I was worried about, where Jackson could barely bring himself to leave the bedroom and we all walked on eggshells. This is the old normal, but better.
Nothing screams total normalcy in this family like Odessa shrieking, “Ew, Rhett. You’re naked—get off me.”
“I’m not naked,” he protests. “I’ve got undies on.”
“Daddy, make him get off.”
I remember the way Jackson flinched when the kids called him Daddy in the weeks following his accident, so clearly uncomfortable in his new-to-him role.
But today, he wraps his arms tight around both of them, his booming laugh filling the air and settling into the few remaining fractures in all of our hearts.
When he finally loosens up his bear hug, both kids roll onto the grass, and the three of them lie in silence, staring up at drifting clouds. I’m tempted to go join them, but I can feel the importance of this moment radiating from Jackson’s easy smile and easier laugh.
—
Hours later, when the kids are settled in with popcorn and a movie—Spider-Man, for the ten thousandth time—I find him in the kitchen and pin him to the counter’s edge, one palm flattened over the brand imprinted on him, the other toying with the elastic waistband of his sweatpants.
Lifting to the balls of my feet, I drop kisses on the corners of his mouth. Coast my lips down the rough velvet of his beard to press them over his protruding Adam’s apple. My fingers curl around the top of his pants, nudging them down slightly to expose the slight dip of an Adonis belt.
“What’s this about?” he asks, palming my breast with a low growl.
“Watching you with the kids all day.” I rub up against him. A flash of heat spreads down my belly. “Seeing you be a good dad—so fucking hot.”
Hands splayed across either side of my ass, Jackson lashes me to his chest and kisses me hard. I feel the bulge between his legs growing harder against me, pressing so close to where I’m suddenly wet and clenching.
“That turned you on?” He licks into my mouth, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of my butt.
“Oh, you have no idea.”
“Tell me.” His right hand glides around to grab my hip, and the softest touch of his finger slipping beneath my pajama shorts reverberates through to my bones. His beard scrapes my cheek as he tilts his head to look down between us, dark lashes fanned across his cheeks.
I grab that hand of his, and together we watch our joined hands disappear beneath the cotton of my shorts. I trace my slit with his finger, and a sharp breath blows between his parted lips. In the silence of the kitchen, the glide of his fingers through my wetness is audible.
“Actions speak louder than words.” I circle his finger around my clit with a whimper.
“Kate, baby.” Somehow it comes out pained and patronizing at the same time. “You need me to take care of this, don’t you?”
“Please.”
He blows out a breath and surveys the room, then he yanks his hand away from my pussy, leaving me even more desperate for his touch. His other hand slaps my ass. Hard. And he nods to the opposite side of the room. “Pantry. Now.”
I swallow hard, gathering my hands and looping them around his neck for one more kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he replies, the solid ridge of him rocking against my core. “Let’s go, before one of the kids comes looking for you.”
His fingers, still wet from me, slip between mine and I let him guide me into the open pantry. Stepping inside, I reach for the light switch, but Jackson’s hand flies up to stop me.
“If the light’s on, they’ll know we’re in here.”
The door closes with a soft click, and within seconds, Jackson has me backed up against the pantry shelves.
His hands tangle in my hair, and I grip his biceps, holding on for dear life.
His kiss is ardent, catching my lips and stealing my breath.
My body shifts and angles in his arms, seeking relief I won’t find with our clothes still on.
I push his sweatpants down over his hips, then let them fall the rest of the way. He pushes forward, and I feel the pressure of his cock on the throb of my clit. Then pressing into me, only thin cotton stopping him from sliding inside with ease.
I inhale the word fuck, and he laughs. Fucking laughs.
“You feel that, beautiful? How badly I want to be inside you?”
So I reach between us to encircle my hand over the crown of his cock, thumb gliding through slippery pre-cum and painting it down his shaft. A triumphant smile erupts on my face at the stuttered curse words slipping through his gritted teeth.
I thought this wild, adventurous side of him would disappear the moment we got home from the hot springs and fell back into some semblance of normal married life. But we’ve christened every room on the main floor in the weeks since, and it doesn’t seem like he has any intention of slowing down yet.
This time, when I reach the base of his dick, I twist my wrist to knead his balls. He pitches forward with a throaty groan.
“Fuck, that’s so good. You’re going to kill me, Kit.”
I hum my disagreement, tightening my grip around him so he groans and bites down on the back of his hand to quiet himself.
“Better take care of me first,” I quip.
Jackson tugs my shirt up to expose my breasts, and bends to flick his tongue over my nipple. My back arches, giving him even more access to me, and he cups my breast to lick and suck my sensitive skin.
I hook a thumb under my loose shorts and shimmy out of them. On instinct, Jackson’s hand moves to cup my pussy in a possessive way, pulling my pelvis toward him.
And when he drags up my wet heat, we shush each other with frantic, wide eyes and bitten lips. I hinge my leg to wrap around his waist, forcing him closer, notching the tip of his cock at my entrance.