40. Garrett
GARRETT
I stir awake to the warmth of the early morning sunlight shining on my face and a subtle jasmine scent teasing the air. My eyes are still closed, and I have morning wood to rival all others, no thanks to the dream I just woke from.
I open my eyes and blink the room into focus. When the room doesn’t morph into the one I usually wake up in, I snap my eyes shut, hoping the simple act is enough to reboot my brain, and when I reopen my eyes, my familiar beige walls and blue bedding will be back.
I wait a beat before trying again. But the view doesn’t change when I reopen my eyes. The large canvas painting on the wall facing me is still there. The painting of several Black women in brightly colored traditional outfits, performing a celebration dance against a neutral backdrop.
Memories of last night flicker into focus.
Of collapsing on the bed, exhausted, the used condom tossed into the bathroom trash can.
Of lying down next to a drowsy Zara after she’d come hard around me.
Of thinking of how I should head home, but I just needed a moment to recover.
Of thinking how right Zara felt—warm and naked and spent—in my arms.
My eyes widen. Oh. Fuck .
I sit up abruptly. According to the alarm clock on Zara’s nightstand, it’s 8:30 a.m. Not only have I overslept, I’m not at home.
Where all my things are.
Where my daughter is.
Double fuck.
I scramble out of bed, the erection I was sporting dying a rapid death.
Zara groans, but it doesn’t sound like the sexy noises from last night when I made her come. Twice. This is a groan that comes from pain.
I pause instead of grabbing my clothes scattered around the room. I walk to her side of the bed, kneel in front of her, and stroke the side of her face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She blinks at me like I’m a mirage, then slowly pushes herself to sit. “I’m fine.” She winces, unable to fasten on quick enough the mask everyone usually sees.
“You’re in pain?”
“No more than normal.” She gives me a smile I assume is meant to be reassuring.
“I’ll be fine in a few minutes. Once I’ve taken my ibuprofen.
And walked around for a bit. And done a few yoga poses.
” Her smile fades to a frown. “How come you’re still here?
I thought you were leaving last night. And getting in more words before bed. ”
“I fell asleep.”
“Me too.” She touches her hair, as if just realizing she forgot to wear her bonnet, then shifts her legs from under the covers. Her movements are slow and hesitant.
I wish kissing every inch of her body was all it took to make her feel better, to chase away her pain completely.
I grab my boxer briefs from the floor and yank them on.
“Shit,” Zara exclaims. “You’re late.”
I locate my jeans and tug them up my legs. “I know. Kellan’s gonna kill me.”
“Only if he knows you’re late because we had sex last night and you fell asleep here. But he doesn’t know, right?” She lifts her eyebrow; I shake my head. “So he’ll just think you’re late because of Peony.”
She has a point. I’m not about to admit to Kellan, or any of my brothers, the real reason I’m running behind. Zara and I agreed, what the two of us are doing is no one else’s business. It’s our secret. And I’m not breaking that vow ’cause I fell asleep in her bed.
I lean down and give her a swift kiss. A barely-there touch of lips. Anything more, and I’ll have a hard time leaving. “Have a good weekend. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Pulling on my T-shirt, I head to the living room, snatch up my phone from the coffee table, and bail as if the hounds of hell are trying to take a chunk out of my ass.
If Kellan has any say in it once he reads my text, the hounds could be doing exactly that.
I don’t bother with the elevator and sprint to the entrance of the stairwell. I practically hurl my body down the staircase, taking the corners tight. Luckily, no one else is in here. No one is at risk of me accidentally plowing into them.
As I pull out of the visitor parking, I send Kellan a brief voice text.
Me: Running late. Will be there shortly.
It’s a lie. I still have to shower, eat, and grab my gear for the weekend. Most of it is already packed. I just have to throw in a few last-minute items.
Kellan doesn’t reply to my text. If fate is shining on me, Troy and Lucas also fucked up and are running behind, because they squeezed in a quick fuck before leaving Jess and Simone.
Lucky guys.
There wasn’t enough time for me to give Zara another orgasm.
I park on my driveway, sprint to the front door. A screaming toddler tantrum welcomes me when I open it, the high-pitch wails coming from the kitchen. Shit. I don’t have time for this. Kellan will be kicking my ass into the next solar system as it is.
But knowing that doesn’t stop me from heading to the source of the noise.
I walk into the room as Peony releases another high-pitched scream from her very healthy set of lungs. She’s sitting in her highchair, her tear-stained face red, the room looking like a casualty of war. Except instead of land mines, food has exploded all over the place .
And standing in the middle of it all is Athena, her mouth gaping as she stares dumbfoundedly at my daughter.
“Hey, little flower.” I walk to her chair, my tone the gentle touch of a bomb disposal technician.
Wide, wet eyes meet mine. She stops screaming, but her sobbing is now in full force. She lifts her arms, making it clear she’s ready to escape the confines of her chair.
I unbuckle her and gently bounce her in my arms. “Hey, little flower, what’s all the fuss about?”
Peony rests her cheek on my shoulder and heaves out a tiny sigh.
Rocking from side to side, I wipe my thumb over her other cheek, slick from her tears, and glance at Athena to see if she has any clue what’s set Peony off.
Athena doesn’t respond to my silent question. If anything, she seems irritated. Her eyes are narrowed, and if she were a cartoon character, she’d have steam coming out of her ears.
Having no idea what bee bit her in the ass, I walk to the sink, grab Peony’s washcloth, and wipe the smeared food from her top.
“Rough morning?” I wipe her hands. Her glistening eyes almost bring me to my knees. The way her bottom lip is pushed out in a pout doesn’t help my case either.
I check the microwave clock and inwardly groan. “How about we get you changed? Then I’ll read you your favorite book.”
I grab Poppy from the table and hand her to Peony. Surprisingly, the panda avoided being a casualty of the food war.
Athena follows us into Peony’s bedroom. “Where were you?” Accusation drips from her words, the edge of her tone razor sharp.
“That’s none of your business.” I attempt to take the sting out of my words, but my frustration at the situation—my falling asleep at Zara’s, being late, coming home to find my daughter throwing a fit—hampers my success at altering my tone.
I’m wearing last night’s clothes, so I can’t bullshit my way out of this and pretend I’m just returning from a run. Plus, she knows I’m behind schedule. I would have usually left by now for the cabins .
“She woke up wanting you,” Athena’s tone doesn’t soften. “And you. Weren’t. Here.”
Joy pokes up unharmed through the thorns of guilt, and I have to fight back a smile. Peony is upset because I wasn’t there for her. She wanted me , her father. A month ago, I wouldn’t have believed that would even be possible.
Athena huffs and shakes her head, her eyes narrowed.
“I don’t need your permission to come home late. I’m not a teenager, and you’re not my mother.” Okay, not my finest retort. She’s not accusing me of being a teen who ignored his curfew. But I am a father, and my falling asleep at Zara’s was inexcusable.
Peony’s bottom lip trembles, a warning she’s about to scream again.
I flash her an unsteady smile. “I’m sorry.” The words are meant for Peony, but maybe I should say them to Athena too. “I shouldn’t have come home so late. I shouldn’t have taken for granted that you’re here. You’re Peony’s nanny. You’re not her mother.”
Athena draws in a sharp, wounded breath—which doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t say anything that isn’t true.
I walk into Peony’s closet. “My staying out was unacceptable, and it won’t happen again.” I remove Peony’s green top, with small ladybugs all over it, from the hanger. “Do you want to wear this one?”
Peony’s arm stretches toward it. I hand it to her with a full-out grin and head for her dresser.
“Why were you so late?” The accusation in Athena’s tone is now nothing more than a frayed thread, the rest of her tone either disappointment or hurt.
“I think Athena has a thing for you.”
Is that what this is about? Athena is reacting like this because she possibly has a thing for me?
I open the top drawer. “I guess all my late nights working on the book finally caught up with me.” I remove a clean pair of jeans from the drawer.
That explains why I fell asleep after my earth-shattering orgasm with Zara. I usually don’t stay at a woman’s house after having sex with her. I leave after an appropriate amount of time .
Kenda had been the exception…until now.
I carry everything to the changing table, sit Peony on it, and hand her the toy maracas. I remove her dirty clothes and proceed to put the ladybug top and jeans on her.
As I dress her, she shakes the maracas and giggles when I pretend to dance to the off-beat rhythm. I don’t care I look like an idiot. Anything to bring a smile to her face.
I toss the dirty clothes into the hamper, grab Peony’s favorite book from the nightstand, and carry her to the living room.
I sit on the couch, with her on my lap, and read her the story. This, of course, takes longer than it should. Peony likes to discuss—in her toddler language—the different pictures. And I’m not rushing her just so I can get out of here. My top priority is to make sure she feels seen and loved.
“I need to have a quick shower,” I tell her after it seems like she has finished discussing the story with me.
“Then I’m heading out to meet your uncles and the men we’re taking camping and canoeing.
” I kiss Peony’s head, between the two little buns perched on either side of it.
“But I’ll be home tomorrow night. Be good for Athena. ”
Peony wiggles off my lap, apparently finished with our conversation.
I help her onto the floor. “Granny will be coming over later to play with you and take you to the playground,” I add as she toddles to her toy box.
After a quick shower and equally quick breakfast, I head out. My brothers have finished loading the supply van by the time I arrive at the main cabin on the Wilderness Warriors property.
“It’s about time you showed up,” Kellan grumbles. “Your excuse had better be good.”
“Peony was upset. So I stayed to help defuse the situation.” That’s close enough to the truth. Hell if I’m telling him the rest of it.