43. Epilogue Rockwell
Six Months Later
H and in hand with Clay, we walk out of the tattoo shop. A dull ache throbs over my heart from the ink I got, an exact replica of the one Clay got all of those months ago. The poor guy who was going to be tattooing me looked nauseous at the thought of matching tattoos, but once we explained what it meant and that it was my Momma’s handwriting, I swear the big man shed a tear.
Running my free hand over my left peck, I smile into the abyss, daydreaming about everything that’s happened over the last six months.
We have what is supposedly the iconic Jax Baker Halloween party tonight—or should I say Baker Halloween party. He’s passing the torch to his younger brother, Emerson, since he’ll be living in the house when Jax is finally done with his fifth year.
I don’t care who’s hosting the party to be honest, as long as I get a night out.
I’ve been at the local high school teaching a couple of high-level elective history classes, and the rest are the juniors’ mandatory classes. Most of my students are as equally obsessed with the subject as I am, and the ones who aren’t, seem to be coming around as the year goes on. It has been so rewarding seeing them excel while simultaneously being a mentor for those who need it.
I love it. I truly do. However, my job still revolves around teaching hormonal and overly emotional teenagers, so it’s safe to say I could use a drink… or five.
Clay and I pull into the parking lot of Delectable Desserts and our apartment. Clay jumps out of the driver’s side and is around to open my door just as I grab my energy drink out of the cup holder. “What have I told you about opening my door, Garot?o? ”
I don’t know why he feels the need to treat me like a princess, but I’d be lying if I denied the smile that spreads across my face when he does it.
“As long as I’m able to open your door, Baby, I will.” He gives me a wink and starts up the stairs. Smile or not, I roll my eyes as he retreats.
“The last one in the shower is the bottom for the night!” I yell up the stairs at him, knowing damn well I’ll be the last one in. He looks down at me, smirking, and takes off through the door when he finally gets it unlocked.
We park down the street from Jax’s house, ensuring we can get out when we’re ready and not be blocked in by a bunch of college kids who won’t even be able to spell their own names. We can hear the music blaring from their house the moment we get out of the car. “Are we too old for this?”
He looks at me deadpan. “We’re twenty-three, not fifty. Come on. Let’s go have some fun.” Excitedly, he pulls me down the street toward the Baker party that’s already in full swing. The two of us intend to make the most out of this party because, in a couple of weeks, Clayton will officially be a member of the staff, and parties like this will officially be a no-go for him.
After I got hired at the high school, the staff caught wind of my collegiate career and offered me the position of head coach of their men’s volleyball program. If everything goes to plan, I hope to start a sand team there as well.
Taylor pretty much forced Clay to come and coach with him at Palm, which I already know he’s going to love. He has loved owning his own business and managing all of his real estate properties since we graduated, but it’s clear to anyone with eyes that nothing will ever compare to the love he has for his sport. We still haven’t heard from the Olympic team, but there are still three years until the next Olympics, and we have time. Taylor has us practicing against the guys whenever he gets the chance in order for us to keep our skills sharp .
As we’re stepping onto Jax’s driveway, he comes barreling out the front door. I’m not joking; he’s full-on sprinting.
Right on his tail is a man in a mask. I stare as they run past us, trying to pinpoint why the man chasing after Jackson looks so familiar.
Then it hits me. I snap my head back in Clay’s direction. “Is that fucking Theo?”
Clay’s eyes follow them as they run down the street, and then he sighs heavily. “Sure looks like it, doesn’t it?”
“Well, that’s… interesting.”
“Might as well leave them to it.” Clay’s voice is laced with apprehension, and I can tell part of him wants to intervene in the situation.
We finally step into the house. It’s packed full of already drunk college kids, and I immediately spot Lil pressed against the kitchen counter by Dominic, the goalie for our hockey team. I’ve seen him a few times in passing but never said much to the guy. I know he’s pretty good friends with Emerson, though.
Emerson’s friend or not… he’s about five seconds away from me shoving my fist through the side of his face.
“LILIANA CAMPOS!” I yell over the music, but she doesn’t even pull away. He’s leaned into her ear, whispering lord knows what .
Clay wolf whistles like the shit stirrer he is, and I snap my head toward him. “Get it, sister!” I slap his chest, and he just laughs at me. “Oh, stop; she’s plenty old enough to let loose. Quit acting like a grandpa.”
“I hate you,” I grumble under my breath.
He pops an obnoxious kiss on my cheek. “Love you too, Baby.”
Lil spots us as we approach them. “Oh hey, guys. Didn’t think you old fuckers would be here,” she laughs out. Her words slurred from the drinks she’s already had.
I step up to Dominic and lower my voice to my most menacing tone. “You hurt her, and I’ll fucking castrate you with a smile on my face.”
“I’m more scared of her than you, man… but I would never hurt her. Scouts honor.” He holds two fingers up and puts the other hand over his heart. I step back and roll my eyes, not bothering to dignify him with a response. Lil can hold her own, I have no doubt about it, but I’ll always worry about her, regardless of where I am, how old she is, or who she’s with. She’s my baby sister, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone or anything cause her any harm.
I grab one of my beers out of the fridge that we keep over here and head into the living room. As the two of us sit next to one another, watching the party unfold in front of us, I can’t help but think back to the night of my birthday party. That night, I knew that my life would never be the same again. I knew then that I wouldn’t spend another moment hating this beautiful man. A lot has changed since then, but one thing remains the same.
I hate him almost as much as I love him.
Clayton
“Rockwell, I swear on all that is holy. If you don’t start pulling your weight, I’m finding a new partner.”
“Like anyone else here would want to deal with you being their partner.”
“Me?” I gasp. “I’m great. The best, actually. I’m the one that’s been carrying this team for the last twenty minutes. You’re a Division I athlete. Act like it.”
Rocky scoffs, like he does at least a thousand times a day, and picks up the ball. Emerson and Dominic stand at the opposite end of the table, taunting him. He lines up his shot, and the ping-pong ball goes sailing across the table before sinking into one of the two remaining red cups.
My arms shoot up in the air. Rocky crosses his arms and raises a brow at me. “Thank youuuuu,” I swoon .
“Kiss my ass.”
“Hole? Gladly.”
I lean in and pucker my lips. He tries to fight a laugh but fails and pushes his palm into my face. “Just shoot the ball.”
And because I’m clutch as fuck, I shoot the ball across the table, my eyes never leaving Rocky’s.
I know I made it because Emerson yells, “Horse shit!” at the top of his lungs before storming off.
“I’d take that kiss now, please.”
He cups my face with one hand, hard enough to purse my lips, and grants me a quick but deep kiss. “Come on, Garot?o. I need another beer.”
As the two of us walk into the kitchen I see a group of people huddled up by the back door.
Correction: I see three guys and a girl.
Actually, let me be more specific: I see three guys who look identical, with skull face paint covering half of their faces, and a blonde girl who looks like every guy’s wet dream in a skimpy fairy costume.
One of them leans in and whispers something in her ear, while the second one crashes his lips to hers, all while the third one runs his hand up her leg and beneath her skirt.
“Fuck sakes. Is this a party or an orgy?” Rocky groans
“God, I fucking miss college. Can we come back? ”
“No.” In the span of two seconds, he’s opening the fridge, grabbing two beers, and pulling me out of the kitchen.
“Awwww, come on. I wanna watch. That was hot.”
Rocky stops in his tracks and looks back at me, his pupils blown wide and his jaw clenched tight.
There he is.
“You want something to watch, Clayton?”
“Sure do, Baby.”
His eyes narrow at me, but I don’t back down. More than willing to play whatever game he wants to play. The corner of his lips turn up before he turns back around and pulls me up the stairs.
Rocky drags me down the hallway until we reach the guest bathroom. Pushing me inside, he slams the door closed behind us. Before I even have a chance to talk, he’s pressed up against me, my back to his front. His hand snakes around and wraps firmly around my neck.
He shuffles us forward until my hips bump the edge of the vanity. With his free hand, he works open my pants and slides them down past my ass, my already hard dick springing free. I watch our reflection in the mirror, and he bends me forward until my forearms rest on either side of the sink.
Kicking my legs apart, Rocky leans forward so his lips dust the shell of my ear. Staring at our reflection, he looks me in the eyes and asks on a growl, “Ready to watch a show, Garot?o?”
My smile goes wide, and I press my ass into him. “Show me what you got, Baby.”
THE END