Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
DALLAS
Haven sleeps soundly, curled up into my side, even though the sun has been up for hours.
I’ve laid here as still as I can, not wanting to wake her because it’s rare for either of us to have a morning off.
Besides, after the past few days and all the fucked-up events that have taken place, she’s exhausted.
Plus the fact that we stayed up most of the night fucking.
In the back of my mind, I know damn well we haven’t seen the last of Tabor—even if he has disappeared for the time being. Because of that, until he’s located and either in jail or a mental facility, I’m not leaving her alone at night.
Even as she sleeps, her stomach growls, telling me she’s hungry. Stretching my arm to the nightstand, I grab my phone, cringing a little when I see that it’s ten thirty in the morning and half the day is pretty much gone.
I’ve never been one to relax and especially not to sleep in. Something inside me has a hard time sitting still for long and an even harder time chilling out, but right now, it’s not that hard with her beside me, snoring softly with absolute peace on her face.
Gently, I unwrap her arm from my body before sliding from under the covers. Pulling on a pair of gray joggers, I take out a T-shirt and sweatpants for her and have one last look to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly before I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
I stare at myself in the mirror, not recognizing the set of eyes mirrored back at me. They aren’t filled with demons threatening to come out. They’re just … relieved. They hold something inside them that I’ve never noticed before. Hope. And excitement.
Tearing my gaze away from myself, aware that I’m being a weirdo, I head downstairs because I know my mom has the kitchen fully stocked with everything for breakfast, even if they are out of town.
I tiptoe down the last few steps before walking across the hallway and into the kitchen.
My mom’s kitchen is like something out of a magazine, but their house isn’t over the top just because my dad is a retired NFL player.
I mean, it’s huge, don’t get me wrong. Fancy—but not overkill because my mom always wanted a modern farmhouse feel. And she got it too.
Searching the cupboards, I find pancake mix. As a kid, whenever we’d go to the Kings’ house to celebrate Haven or Noah’s birthdays, Haven always requested chocolate chip pancakes—with extra chocolate chips. Her brother hated chocolate chips in his and wanted blueberries.
Me? I was so used to not eating before being adopted that they could have put just about anything in front of me and I would have eaten it.
Still, usually Anna knew that I liked both, so she’d give me a few of each.
And fuck yes, I’d demolish them. Then again, so would her daughter.
And then she’d usually ask for more. Sometimes, she and her brother would have competitions to see who could eat the most. I swear nine times out of ten, she won.
Even when it was clear she felt sick and was full, she was so damn competitive she’d continue to stuff her mouth.
She didn’t give a shit who was watching or judging her. She’s always had a bold, kind of over-the-top personality. As a kid, I’d claim it annoyed me. But inside, being around her felt like sunshine. We’re so different, she and I. And yet, I’ve always been drawn to her, even when I was denying it.
Pouring the mix into a bowl, I fill a measuring cup with the appropriate amount of water before dumping it in. I mix until there are no clumps and then get my pan ready.
I’ve never made breakfast for anyone, but here I am, making her chocolate chip pancakes because I know she loves them, and after hearing her stomach growl, I know she’s hungry.
The thought runs through my mind that in the midst of my biological father always leaving and coming back, he never once made my mom food.
He never did anything nice for her actually.
And she was always too sad or high to get out of bed to make sure I got fed.
So maybe … I won’t be like them after all. Maybe I could be good for Haven.
Maybe I could be who she deserves.
HAVEN
I’m awakened by a sweet, chocolaty scent, and my nose sniffs it in a few times just before my stomach growls loudly.
Rubbing my hand over my stomach, I frown.
“Easy, killer,” I utter, yawning and stretching my arms over my head.
Between my legs is sore, and all the ways Dallas fucked me last night flash through my brain.
From riding him so hard that the bedframe was hitting the wall, to him on top of me, thrusting in and out, then him with a fistful of my hair, using it as reins and plunging his cock deeply inside me from behind—it was a wild night of sex.
And when I look at my phone and see it’s nearly eleven in the morning, I’m honestly not that shocked.
Getting out of bed, I smile when I see the folded sweatpants and T-shirt sitting on the dresser like they’ve been left waiting for me. Pulling them on, I look at myself in the mirror and smile at the look in my eyes.
My hair is a mess, and there’s no makeup on my face. With anyone else, I’d be scrambling to make myself look better before going downstairs. But with Dallas, I don’t need to. Because when he tells me he loves me this way, I believe him. I feel his words.
Heading into the restroom, I don’t realize just how badly I needed to pee until I’m actually doing it. And when I’m washing my hands seconds later and then brushing my teeth, I have time to admire the girl looking back at me once more.
I’ve always been a happy person. Why wouldn’t I when my life has always been so great? But there’s always been something missing, and now that I have him … my face just glows differently. My green eyes shine brighter, my smile more genuine.
Spitting into the sink, I rinse my toothbrush and wipe my mouth before I head downstairs, my nose eagerly following the delicious scent the closer I get to it.
My bare feet take one step at a time, but when I get about halfway down, I do what my stupid clumsy ass has done countless times on these stairs—I fall, my body sliding down the remaining steps at top speed.
Just as I get to the bottom, Dallas jumps in front of me, scooping me into his arms. His eyes are wide and panicked as he looks down at me. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve fallen in front of him—which is a lot. My cheeks still burn.
Swallowing back my shame, I smile shyly. “Are those … chocolate chip pancakes I smell?” I whisper, and he throws his head back.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Short,” he huffs out. “You just scared the actual shit out of me. I thought for sure you broke your ass or leg or something.”
I shrug. “Lucky for me, thick thighs and some junk in the trunk give me a little extra cushion.” I wink. “So, about those pancakes …”
He stares at me for a moment before finally rolling his eyes but carrying me into the kitchen. Setting me down at a stool, he stands there, looking me over.
“Are you sure that you aren’t hurt?” He grabs my wrist, turning my arms over to see for himself. “Like nothing at all?”
“My stomach hurts because I’m hungry,” I grumble. “Pancakes now, bitch.” I keep a serious face until I can’t, and then I lean forward to kiss his cheek. “I’m joking. You aren’t a bitch. I’m fine. Your parents’ stairs are annoyingly slippery. It’s not my fault.”
“You’re the only one who has fallen down them,” he deadpans. “Ever.”
My mouth hangs open, and I stare in disbelief. “I take it back. You are a bitch.” My stomach growls between us, and I look down at it, scrunching my nose up. “Told you I was hungry.”
Sighing loudly, he shakes his head at me before walking around to the other side of the kitchen, and I take the opportunity to break some news to him. Or should I say, hit him with a reality check.
“Also, FYI, as much as I’ve loved our sexcapades, you know it’s time for me to actually tutor you, right?
” I smile when he peeks up at me, clear disappointment on his face.
“I know we both have class and practices tomorrow, but tomorrow night? Your ass is mine.” I pause. “I mean, your brain is mine.”
“And if I do good, your ass can be mine too?” Before I can answer, he nods excitedly. “Now this is an agreement I’m on board with.”
I roll my eyes at him but giggle just as he slides a stack of chocolate chip pancakes in front of me. He tries his best to fight the proud grin that’s tugging at his lips from spreading, but when I pour some syrup over them, grab a fork, and take a huge bite, I moan in appreciation, and he cracks.
“Good?” he utters, taking the seat beside me.
Nodding my head up and down, I take another, and once again, I sound like I have a wiener inside me and am being taken to pound town because the moan this time is even bigger.
“So good,” I say on a sigh.
And we sit here, surrounded by nothing but the sound of my slutty moans in this quiet house on a Sunday morning. I’ve spent countless weekends here. I’ve even eaten pancakes at this same spot, yet nothing has ever felt as right as it does in this moment.
As I eat my breakfast with the man I love beside me, I hate the nagging feeling in my stomach that this is all too good to be true. Because if it is, and it’s all gone tomorrow …
I just don’t know if I’ll be okay.