Chapter Twenty Six
Saint
The engine of the truck quiets when I turn it off, and for a long minute, I just sit in the driveway, resting my head against the steering wheel.
Did I take my time coming home? Yep. Because everything hurts.
My body feels like a wreckage of old injuries, plus fresh bruises from today’s practice, but the ache in my heart is worse.
But I can’t sit here in the silence of the cab imagining what my life would be like without her. Because it terrifies me.
I haul myself out of the truck and walk inside.
The house is dark except for the light of the TV in the family room and the glow of the light on the hood of the stove.
I see Rhyan curled up on the couch with Presley, and Remy on the floor with some Legos.
When I walk into the room, Presley’s eyes meet mine, and my stomach does a slow roll.
“Hey,” she says softly, looking … nervous.
“Hey,” I say, walking around the couch. “Whatcha working on, Rem?”
“Spider-Man Mech versus anti-Venom.”
“Very cool,” I say, ruffling his hair.
I move to Rhyan and kiss the top of her head, smelling the scent of her strawberry shampoo.
“I was just about to take them up,” Presley says.
“Okay, I’ll be right up. I’m just gonna grab some water.”
“I got it,” she waves me off. “Go shower.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, it won’t take long. They’re tired tonight.”
I just nod.
Presley stands, holds her hands out for Rhyan to take, and pulls her off the couch. “Set that on the coffee table, Rem. You can finish it tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he says and does as she asks.
Rhyan gives me a quick, sleepy hug and wanders up the stairs. Remy’s right behind her.
As soon as the kids are out of earshot, Presley turns to me. She looks nervous, and she’s twisting the hem of her sweater.
“Saint,” she asks, “can we talk after I get them settled and you’re done in the shower?”
My heart hits the floor. This is it. This is the conversation when she tells me she’s thought about it and can’t give me what I want. She’s going to tell me she’s going back to her apartment, that we’ll figure out a schedule with the kids, and go our separate ways.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, my voice sounding rough. “I’ll come downstairs when I’m done.”
I follow her up the stairs, but turn to my room to shower.
I can’t lose her. I’ve played in front of millions, facing down some of the baddest motherfuckers in the league without blinking. But the thought of Presley walking out the door makes my knees weak. I spend my life winning by sheer force, but I can’t force her to fall in love with me.
Ten minutes later, I make my way downstairs and walk toward the family room to sit on the couch, but out of the corner of my eye, I see her in the kitchen.
The overhead lights are still off, but candles glow on the countertops. And in the center of the island is a tower. A layered fortress of Mint Oreos.
But as I get closer to her, it’s the music that gets me. From the Alexa on the counter, the opening chords of Garth Brooks’s “To Make You Feel My Love” begins to play. It’s playing low, but heavy with the kind of emotion I’ve been trying to bury for the past few weeks.
“What is all this?” I ask, voice gravely.
Presley looks beautiful, but raw.
“I don’t want to just say it,” she begins, and her voice has a nervous edge to it. “Because I know I’ve used words to hide behind for a long time, especially best friend. But I don’t want to be safe anymore, Saint.”
I move, making my way around the island to stand in front of her. As I get closer, I can see tears already shimmering in her eyes.
“I love you,” she says, and the world seems to stop spinning. “I don’t just love you like a best friend. I’m in love with you. Completely, devastatingly in love with you.”
I feel a hot sting in my own eyes. Now I’ve never been a man who cried easily, but since my sister died, I can’t seem to control myself like I used to, and hearing these words come out of her mouth feels like a blow to my chest.
“I can’t imagine my life without you,” she continues, her voice gathering strength, even as her tears fall.
“I can’t imagine living without you or not hearing you laugh in the hallway.
I love you in a bone-crushing way, Saint.
In a way that makes it hard for me to breathe when you’re not in the room.
You’re the only one I see next to me when I’m old and gray.
You’re the only man I ever want to have babies with.
I want a family with you. I want it all. ”
God, please let this be real. I feel like I’m finally coming up for air. I want to pick her up and never let her feet touch the ground again. She wants babies. With me.
I can’t speak. My throat feels too tight, and my heart is beating so hard that I feel like I can hear it. I watch her, memorizing the way she looks in the candlelight, the way she’s offering me everything I’ve ever dreamed of.
But I don’t answer because I’m not sure I can find enough words for what I’m feeling. I take her hand and pull her flush against my chest. I start to sway, our bodies moving to the slow, steady rhythm of Garth’s voice.
We dance in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by mint Oreos and candlelight. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. She’s shaking in my arms, her hands clutching the back of my shirt, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
“Saint?” she whispers after a minute, pulling back just enough to look at me, her face wet with tears. “Did you hear me? Can you say something, please?”
The song ends, the silence of the house rushing back in. I still don’t answer with words. I just reach down, grip her waist, and lift her onto the marble countertop so we’re eye to eye.
I brace my hands on either side of her, boxing her in.
“If you mean everything you just said,” I say, my voice deep, making her breath hitch, “then this is it, Presley. There’s never going to be anyone else for me.
I am yours until they put me in the ground.
So, you’d better be sure because if you mean it, I’m never letting you go.
I will fight the whole world to keep you right here. ”
“I’m sure,” she says, a laugh breaking through her tears. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”
I don’t wait. I crush my mouth against hers. It’s not gentle. It’s desperate and passionate, a seal on the vow we just made. It tastes like salt from her tears and mint from the Oreos she probably ate while making the tower. And it tastes like a thousand tomorrows.
The kitchen suddenly feels too small for the fire we’ve started. So, I break the kiss long enough to sweep her into my arms, carrying her through the darkened house to the family room.
I set her down, and for a moment we just stand there, facing each other in the glow of the room.
There’s no rush tonight. We take our time undressing, our eyes locked on each other. I watch her shed her clothes, her body bared to me inch by inch. When it’s my turn, she watches me, her hands coming up to run over the scars on my shoulders and the hard lines of my abs.
“I’ll never get over how beautiful you are,” she whispers, her palms hot against my skin.
“I’m yours,” I remind her.
I move over to the couch, the one where we’ve spent so many nights watching our favorite Marvel movies and shows, where we’ve lounged with the kids and laughed as a family.
“Wait,” she says, firmly.
I pause, halfway to sitting my bare ass down on the leather. “What?”
“We have kids who sit here, Saint,” she says, a small smirk playing on her lips as she grabs a throw blanket hanging over the back of the couch. She spreads it over the cushions smoothly. “I’m washing this tomorrow. I don’t need Rhyan asking why the couch is sticky.”
I bark out a laugh. “Always thinking, huh?”
“Always,” she says, stepping toward me.
I sit down on the blanketed couch, my legs spread, and she steps between them. I grab her waist and guide her to straddle me, positioning my cock at her entrance.
She lowers herself, agonizingly slow, her eyes never leaving mine.
I let out a low groan as she takes all of me. The fit so perfect.
“I love you,” she whispers, her voice raspy as she begins to move torturously slow, that makes my vision swim. Her arms wind around my neck, and she holds the back of my head, while she looks me in the eyes.“I love you so much, Saint.”
“And I love you, Presley,” I say, my hands roaming over her chest, her breasts, then around to her back, pulling her close. I can feel her nipples brushing my chest when she moves. “Always.”
The pace is languid, but I’m buried to the hilt, and the way she’s rubbing her pussy against me, right on my pubic bone, I can tell it won’t take long for either of us to come.
It’s erotic and sexy, and I want to devour every inch of her, but it’s the emotion that makes me feel like we’re one. Every movement a declaration. Every gasp a promise. A rhythm that’s ours alone. And the heat building has everything to do with the people we’ve become together.
I take her by the neck, then tilt my head, my mouth covering hers possessively. Every slide of her tongue against mine feels like velvet, sending a jolt of electricity right to my dick. It’s not just a kiss. It’s every word I couldn’t say for the last two weeks. Every fear I had of losing her.
I groan low in my throat, the sound wrecked as I pull her flush against me. My other hand slides down to the small of her back, splaying wide to anchor her to me. I can feel when she melts into me, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps that I swallow whole.
The kiss turns hungrier, the closer we get to orgasm. I suck on her lower lip, my teeth grazing as I pull back, drawing a moan from her. And I dive back in for more. It’s hot and slick.
When I feel her rhythm start to increase, I press our foreheads together. I can see the shimmer of her eyes, her swollen lips, damp from my mouth.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, my own breathing becoming jagged. “Roll your hips, take everything you need.”
I slide a hand between us and rub my fingers in a circle on her clit, and her body jerks like the sensation is almost too much to bear.
My free hand moves to her face, cupping her cheek, and I lean in to kiss her again, matching the rhythm of her pussy sliding up and down my cock.
When she starts to come, I can’t hold back. I move both of my hands to her hips, thrusting hard and deep inside her. Her nails dig into my shoulders to hold on, and fuck me if that doesn’t drive me wild.
My cock erupts so hard, I feel like I might actually pass out.
Once my dick stops twitching inside of her and I don’t feel her pulsing around me, I bring her in, chest to chest, burying my face in her neck, as we both catch our breath.
We stay on the couch for a while, and I wrap the blanket around us, watching the shadows dance on the ceiling. My head finally feels clear. The weight on my chest over the last few weeks, gone and replaced by sweet exhaustion.
Presley shifts against me, her nose brushing my cheek. “Saint.”
“Hmm?”
“I think we should have some of those Oreos and milk. I spent a lot of time on that tower. I mean, Remy and Rhyan ate half of them, but what we had left took me a minute to stack.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, we definitely should. Come on.”
She slides off me with a grin, and we walk back into the kitchen naked. The candles are still burning, but down to stubs now.
I grab the milk from the fridge while she places some Oreos on a napkin for each of us.
We stand at the island, dipping cookies into cold milk and laughing about things that don’t matter. It’s normal and real. Just a husband and a wife, finally on the same page.
When I’ve had my fill, I move around the kitchen making sure all the candles have burned out. Then I walk over to her and sweep her in my arms, and start toward the stairs.
“Saint!” she whisper-yells, her arms looping around my neck.
I climb the stairs, taking two at a time, and carry her into our room and kick the door shut, gently behind us.
When we get to the bed, Presley leans over and pulls the covers down. I lay her on the sheets and climb in beside her, and pull the covers over both of us.
I tuck her into my side, her head resting on my chest, her arm draped over me. I kiss her head, then stare at the ceiling, feeling her steady breath against my skin as she falls asleep.
Losing my sister, the fear of losing the kids, and then Presley— I make a silent vow to myself that I will never take a second of this life for granted.