Chapter 11 Poppy
POPPY
I wake up the next morning and stretch my arms over my head.
Sunlight floods the room, but it’s muted, thanks to a privacy tinting that covers the window glass.
I roll over in the twin bed, expecting to see Jax across the room from me, but the bed is empty.
The blankets are tossed back, and the pillow is all scrunched up into a C-shape—a sure sign that Jax slept here not long ago.
But waking up in a strange place and not seeing my son sends my heart into an immediate panic.
I leap out of bed, not caring that I’m braless and wearing Phantom’s boxer shorts. I tear down the stairs, only stopping when I hear the sound of Jax’s laughter, with Daisy and Holly talking over him.
“They’re called mock-mosas,” Daisy is saying in a very grown-up voice. “No alcohol, just orange juice and sparkling grape juice. Kid-friendly. Dad approved.”
“That’s a lotta sugar, Dais.” When I hear Phantom’s booming voice, I freeze on the stairs. It’s hard to explain the feeling that floods my body at the idea of my son hanging out with Phantom and his daughters.
Once I know that Jax is here and he sounds more than okay, I turn around, pad back upstairs, and take care of business in the bathroom. I open the toothbrush the girls left out for me, brush my teeth, and run my fingers through my hair.
After I clean up a little, I head back to the guest room and see a long-sleeved button-down and a pair of sweats outside the door. I throw the loose sweats on over the boxers I’m wearing and tie the button-down around the T-shirt. The outfit will do, considering I still don’t have a bra.
As I head back downstairs in Phantom’s clothes and my bare feet, an even more uncomfortable feeling overcomes me.
I stand outside the kitchen for a few minutes, listening to laughter and chatter. My son’s voice mixes in with Holly’s and Daisy’s. I don’t know what they are doing, but it sounds like fun. The kind of fun I don’t think Jax and I have had in a long time.
The ache of longing in my chest is so intense, I lose my breath for a second. I hardly know Phantom, but this feels real, and I want to be a part of it. Not on the outside looking in.
“Mom—” Jax gives me a grin and holds up a glass “—want a mock-mosa?”
“Sounds delicious,” I say. The rush of emotions or maybe the drinks I had last night have made the beginning of a headache form behind my eyes. “Water would be good too,” I add.
Phantom turns from the counter and meets my eyes. He’s holding a cup of coffee and a bottle of Advil. A sexy grin curls one corner of his mouth, and in a flash, I’m back to last night. My kiss on the corner of those perfect lips. The bristles of his dark beard. God, this man…
He crosses the kitchen, his feet bare, well-broken-in jeans low on his hips, and a soft gray T-shirt clinging to his sculpted chest. “Mornin’,” he whispers, offering me the coffee and the painkillers. “A little something for the morning after.”
I groan and accept them both gratefully. “How long have you all been up?”
Phantom shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s Sunday. A day off. We sleep when we want, we eat what we want…”
“And we drink mock-mosas.” Daisy hands me a glass filled to the brim. “Sparkling grape juice and orange juice,” she says. “So delicious.”
I smile at her enthusiasm, even if my stomach rolls over at the thought of anything even remotely resembling alcohol at this hour. The drinks from last night are hitting me like a ton of bricks. My throat feels dry and my head is pounding.
“Sit.” I feel Phantom’s hand on my back. He pulls out a kitchen chair for me, his eyes raking over the button-down I’ve tied in a knot at my waist. I can see his Adam’s apple bob, and his eyes grow dark as he rakes them over my face.
I want to kiss him good morning, want to get close to that soft shirt that covers his hard, thick body, and wrap myself in his scent, his heat. Typical morning after a first date feelings for an anything but typical morning after a first date situation.
Our kids are setting the table, and if my nose isn’t deceiving me, Daisy has made pancakes, bacon, and eggs.
“I can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me,” I say, washing down two Advil with a large swallow of coffee. “Everything smells amazing. Can I help?”
Holly sets a plate loaded with pancakes in the middle of the table. “We got this,” she says. Then she gives me a toothy grin. “If we cook, we get to make whatever we want.” She points to the brown splotches in the pancakes. “Chocolate chips.”
One look at Jax proves he’s as excited about the meal as the girls, and a mixture of joy and sadness sweeps over me.
I work every Saturday and clean on Sunday, so I never see my son play with kids his age or have sleepovers. He’s always over at Tera’s with his best friend Ryan or at the shop with me while I clean. How many moments like this has my son shared with other families?
This feeling. It’s nothing I’ve had since Clara and I were little. The realization hits me hard. I do okay by my son, but how much better or happier could his life be?
The food is all laid out, so the girls take their seats at the table. Phantom carries a chair from the dining room and sits at the head of the table, directly across from me.
We’re both quiet as we eat, letting the kids’ chatter fill the room.
“How many tattoos do you have?” Jax asks between mouthfuls of bacon.
“Loads,” Phantom says.
“Do you have a favorite?” Jax asks. “One that means a lot to you?”
I rub the ring finger where a tiny heart has faded so much it’s almost tough to tell what it is anymore.
I study Phantom as he nods at his daughters. “The ones I got for my girls,” he says, without even hesitating. “Those mean the most to me. They all have stories. They all mean something to me, but these two mean more than anything.”
Jax’s eyes are wide as he looks from Holly and Daisy then back at Phantom. “What are they?”
“Can I tell him, Dad?” Daisy chugs the last of her mock-mosa and gets out of her chair.
“Mm-hm.” Phantom sort of grunts, and Daisy gets out of her chair and stands next to her dad.
“Right here,” Daisy says, pointing to Phantom’s chest. “He has a holly leaf with berries that are heart-shaped instead of round. There’s a cool daisy right next to it over his heart for me.
” She shrugs one shoulder. “If Dad ever has any more kids, he’s going to need to name them something small because there’s not a lot of room left there. ”
Phantom nearly spits his coffee, then swats his daughter’s shoulder. “Hilarious,” he says. “Maybe I’ll get a dog and cover up your tattoos with a picture of his face.”
“You would never.” Daisy wraps her arms around her dad’s neck and says, “Just wait, Dad. In three years, I can get a tattoo.”
“Try five,” he snaps. “You’re thirteen, Dais, and I’m not consenting.”
“You have them.” Daisy points at her dad. “I want a full sleeve of art.”
“That’d be sick,” Jax says.
“I’m going to be sick,” Phantom chimes in. “Before you go inking yourself with pictures of plushie toys and shit, at least be old enough to order a drink. You can order one for me while you’re at it, so I don’t break the fingers of whoever is stupid enough to put art on my baby.”
I can just imagine Phantom losing his mind, seeing a cute little kitten on Daisy’s arm or ankle.
When my fork scrapes an entirely empty plate, I look down and realize I’ve eaten all my pancakes and three whole slices of bacon. I choke down a little of the mock-mosa, but the acid in the orange juice reminds me that I’m still not back to normal after the drinks from last night.
“That was absolute heaven,” I say. I walk to the sink with my empty plate in hand. “Thank you, girls. Now, if you’ll tell me where everything goes, I’m going to do these dishes.”
“Like hell you will.” Phantom comes up behind me and takes the dirty plate right from my hand. He turns to Jax. “You and your mom are off duty today. Why don’t you go find something to watch on television. I’ll do these dishes.”
Holly and Daisy squeal and race out of there so fast, my son looks from me to them with a mixture of regret and worry on his face.
“Mom, should I…”
I shake my head and smile. “Go on,” I tell him. “Go with the girls.”
Once we’re alone, Phantom leans forward, lightly pinning me between the sink and his hips. My breath catches, and I lean back against him instinctively, my rear end pressing against the firmness behind the zipper of his jeans.
“Phantom,” I murmur, “you…”
“Arouse you?” His whisper against my hair is warm and rich, his voice sending shivers of electricity through my body. “Make you want to do filthy, filthy things to me?”
I turn to face him, and he rests his hands on the edge of the sink, caging me between his hips and the counter. “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” I say, daring myself to meet his eyes.
“Back atcha, babe,” he says, then taps the side of my butt firmly with a hand. “Now, go hang with the kids while I clean. You can damn well bet I’m going to take you up on that the first chance we get.”
The next thing I feel is a strong hand against my forehead. “Poppy?”
My eyes fly open, and I see Phantom above me, looking worried.
“What is it? What happened?”
“You fell asleep on the couch,” he says. He glares hard and holds the back of his hand against my forehead, then the side of my neck. “But your face is beet red. You’re burning up. I think you have a fever.”
“Really? I can’t be sick. I’m…” But as soon as I try to sit up, it hits me.
My head is pounding like someone drove a dump truck across my forehead. My throat feels scratchy when I try to say anything, and despite my best intentions, I can’t muster the energy to sit. All I can do is slump my head right back where it was against the back of the couch.
Jax’s worried voice breaks through my fog. “I was just sick with the flu. I must have given it to her.”
“Don’t you worry, little man. I’ve got meds, and your mom doesn’t have to work until Tuesday, right? The shop’s closed today and tomorrow?”
“I can’t believe you remembered that,” I whisper.
“I pay attention to the shit that matters,” he says. “Jax, you go play with the girls. Swim if you want. Last night, a couple of my friends packed up some things from your room and brought them over. You probably have some shorts or something you can swim in. I’m going to get your mom tucked in.”
“Mom, is it okay?”
“Go ahead, honey.”
I hear Jax’s feet pound toward the back doors, and Phantom yells, “Girls, if you’re going to kayak, get Jax a vest! Vests on if you’re on the channel!”
I squint open my eyes. “Phantom, I don’t want to get you and the kids sick. I’ll call my mom…”
He doesn’t answer but, instead, slides his hands under my knees and picks me up off the couch like I weigh nothing. He’s so strong, so warm.
I let myself be carried up the stairs, but to my surprise, he doesn’t take me to the guest room at the end of the hall. He turns the opposite direction, toes open a door, and puts me on top of a massive king-sized bed.
His bed.
“Wait here,” he says.
I don’t think I’d have the strength to move if I tried.
He’s gone maybe five minutes before I feel him sit on the bed beside me. “Take this.”
I look down at the bottle of maximum-strength cold and flu medicine and the large glass of water. I don’t even argue. I take the cup of medicine, drink it down, and wash it back with water.
“Thank you.”
“You can thank me when you’re better. Now, rest. I’m going to bring you tea with honey. What else do you want?”
I feel his hand stroking my hair back from my face. I open my eyes and shake my head weakly. “I can’t let you take care of me. I…”
He rests his head on my forehead, his dark-blue eyes blazing as he looks at me. “You can and you will. I’ll have clothes and shit brought over from your house. You’re going to stay in this bed and rest and let me take care of you and Jax until you’re better. You hear me?”
“Okay,” I whisper, finally giving in, closing my eyes, and sighing.
Phantom tucks me in a little tighter, and then I feel him go still.
He’s on the bed beside me, but he’s not moving or saying anything.
He sits there quietly until the room goes dark behind my eyes.
His blankets are so cozy, his bed so perfect.
Everything in my body hurts, but I smell him and feel his presence close to me.
Before I know it, everything goes dark.