Chapter 23
Paxton
The call request came as I was sitting on the back porch with a cup of coffee that was bordering on too cold to enjoy. With the calm of the morning going so well, I didn't want to move.
I looked at the screen. Princess Pack — Group Call.
There was a collection of faces in boxes spread across the screen. It looked like they weren’t together for once. I grinned as they all started talking at once.
"There he is," Byron said.
"Paxton Wells." Princess Aster pressed one hand to his chest like he'd been waiting for an eternity to see me. "Finally."
Fisher giggled. "We were starting to think you'd gone feral.”
"He's not feral, he's in Louisiana, it's different," Doyle said, and then he pointed at the camera, which meant he was pointing at me, expression both delighted and wounded. "You, mister. You have been quiet."
I took a slow sip of my coffee. "Hi."
"Hi. That's all you've got. You move to a whole new city, you're living your whole new life, and you call us approximately… uh, never, and all you've got is hi."
"I've been keeping in touch. Texting counts."
"Emojis aren't texts, Paxi," Byron’s Daddy Jasper pointed out.
"Some of them were words." I scowled at the screen, frustrated even the Daddies had jumped in.
Princess Aster, ever the diplomat, stepped in smoothly. "We're glad you answered. We've missed you. How are you settling in? How's the house? How's your father? How's everything?"
Everything was a big ask. How much time did they have and did they want to get snacks before I started?
I didn’t say any of that, of course. No need to encourage their already bratty moods.
"Good," I told them. "All of it has come together nicely. The house is good. Pops's—you know how he is. He's already found his favorite food place, and he’s made a few friends in the short time we’ve been here. I think he might actually be more at home in Bellport than I am."
"That tracks! Your pops is the most immediately likeable person ever.” Fisher’s words were met with varying levels of agreement.
"Don't tell him that. He'll never be humble again. None of you have to live with the man."
Doyle, who had seemed even more excited than usual, finally couldn't hold back anymore. "Okay, but you like it there. You actually like it. I can tell. You look different."
"I look the same."
"You look looser. Right?" He waved to the others. "He looks looser. I’m not the only one seeing this"
"He does," Princess Aster agreed.
Fisher, Ean, and Byron all nodded, while the Daddies I could see on screen sent smug looks my way. They were eating this up. Assholes.
"I look like I'm sitting on a porch. Because I am. Nothing significantly changed."
"You look happy," Doyle ended my protests with three little words. How could I argue with that? I was happy.
His face shifted, the teasing fading into the background for a moment as vulnerability came forward. "We miss you. The Princess Pack misses you."
"I miss y’all too."
“Y’all??!! Who else heard that? He’s even getting an accent. OMG! This is amazing.” Princess Gracie babbled happily for a second before their line went quiet. Shiloh, who’d been behind his boy, had reached forward to mute them.
"Okay. Okay, I have something to tell you, but I want you to know that we talked about it and we all agreed, so this is a group decision, not a Doyle decision," my best friend announced.
The others made noise suggesting they agreed to this. Whether it be by choice or force was unknown.
"Now I’m concerned. Tell me you haven’t done anything to land yourself in trouble.”
"It’s the opposite actually.” Doyle’s grin widened. “We're coming to visit."
I waited a moment to see if he’d elaborate. That sentence could mean anything really.
"Bellport. We’re visiting Bellport. Daddy and I. We booked it. It's already done."
I looked at the screen for a moment. Then I said, "When?"
"Soon."
"Doyle," I growled.
"Ugh! Fine. It’s this weekend."
I set my coffee down on the arm of the chair. "This weekend? As in two days from now?"
"We wanted to surprise you, but Daddy said that was rude and that you'd want to actually prepare. I think it undersells how good surprises can be, but he said we had to or I wouldn’t get a sweet treat."
"Pierce is correct, I definitely needed the heads up."
"See, that's—" Doyle turned to look off-screen "—he said you're correct, are you happy?"
Pierce's voice came through, full of amusement. "Tell him I said hi."
"He says hi," Doyle reported.
"Hi, Pierce. I hear I’ll be seeing you soon."
"Okay. So. This weekend. We want a full tour. I want to see the house and the porch because you made it all look nice and cozy, but I need proof."
"We can do that."
Doyle continued on as if I weren’t speaking. "And I want to see the town. Like, where you go. What it looks like. The whole thing."
"Also doable." By then, the other Princess Pack members had gone quiet, their gazes ping-ponging between me and Doyle like they were watching a pickleball match.
"I want to eat at the place your pops has been raving about online. The one with the biscuits."
My eyes closed at the news that my pops was turning into a food influencer or some shit. The man was really doing the most.
"Pops will love that," I pointed out instead of asking more about said social media.
From inside the house, I heard the back screen door open, and then Pops stepped out with his own mug, still in the faded green t-shirt he'd slept in, squinting a little against the morning. He looked at my phone screen, then his face lit up.
"Morning, everybody. It’s going to be a good day when I see so many adorable and friendly faces around," he said to the screen specifically.
"Good morning," Princess Aster greeted warmly. The others chimed in, each with big smiles for the man beside me.
"The whole pack?" Pops tilted his head towards the phone. “Must have been important.”
His statement brought out more questions and chaos from my friends. They poked at him for information, then listened raptly as he portrayed it all in that way of his I loved so much—part storyteller, part dramatic performance.
"I love him," Doyle said once Pops left to go back inside
"He loves you too. All of you. As much as he likes this place, I know he’ll miss seeing you all you pop by my place when he’s there too."
"Okay," Princess Aster spoke with a gentle firmness. He was back in charge. "We'll let you go. We just wanted to see your face. And you should know—we're all proud of you. Genuinely. You’re an amazing human, a fantastic ball player, and I’m sure a great Daddy."
I thought about how weird it was to feel homesick for something you hadn't lost. They were right there. I could see them. Hear them. Two of these men would be here in person soon.
Yet it still felt like a part of me was missing.
"Thanks," I whispered. "For calling."
"Don't go quiet again. Send more pictures. Don’t think we don’t want to see it. We do." Fisher’s firm words were so uncharacteristic of him that I knew I wouldn’t forget.
"I'll be better. You’ll hear from me."
The call ended shortly after we exchanged goodbyes. I sat back in my chair looking out at the patch of land I would call mine. At the space Pops and I had claimed.
It was home. It was ours.
Friday
Pierce: Flight landed on time. See you soon.
Doyle: WE ARE IN LOUISIANA. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
The latter had a trail of random emojis behind it, none of which made sense together. I suspected his excitement was to blame.
Paxton: Here’s my address. Just park on the street since I have no doubt you’re going to rent a car.
There was zero chance of Pierce relying on rideshares during his trip. Heck, he wouldn’t even want to have me or Pops drive him around. The man liked moving at his own pace.
Which made sense given his boy was rambunctious at times.
They showed up forty minutes after that, a midsize sedan coming to a stop right out front. I spotted them through the window and stepped out onto the porch to greet them.
Doyle took inventory as Pierce unloaded a bag from the back. I chuckled, which stole my friend’s attention from his inspection.
“PAXI!” He ran to me, his squeal echoing around us. I braced for impact, then spun him when he jumped into the hug, a move he always loved.
When he pulled away, I found him with a big smile. "Okay. I see it now."
"Do you?" I was curious to know what that meant exactly.
"Yep. This place is perfect for you. Like your personality came to life."
Pierce put a hand between Doyle's shoulder blades before holding out his other to me. I took it, and he pulled me in briefly. "Good to see you," he said.
"It’s good to see y’all too." I held up a hand when I saw Doyle wiggle like he wanted to point out the word use. “Don’t get in trouble first thing, D. Your Daddy isn’t the only one who can say no sweets on this trip.”
Doyle gasped, affronted at the claim. Pierce and I laughed. We weren’t bothered by his dramatics.
Pierce hummed, his gaze raking over me in a clinical way. "You look well."
"So everyone keeps telling me."
Inside, Pops made them coffee and asked about the flight.
After being told it was no big deal, the conversation switched to what Doyle had been up to, which turned into a forty-minute ordeal I mostly listened to from the kitchen doorway, watching as my father entertained my friends like he always seemed to do.
Doyle had his hands around a mug and a twinkle in his eye. "It's really cozy. I like it."
After coffee, Doyle demanded a tour of the space. It didn’t take long to walk him and Pierce through it all. In each area, they took a minute to truly appreciate what we’d put together here.
We wound up on the back porch at the end. Doyle stood at the railing and looked at the yard. I could tell he wasn’t focused on it though.
"It's quiet here too." He glanced over at me. “Nothing like back home. Even the busy areas aren’t all that busy. We saw some of it on the drive.”
"There’s bad quiet and good quiet, though."
"And this is good?”
“Without a doubt,” I agreed.