Chapter 12 #3
“Yes.” Winding my arms around his midsection, the second he’s within reach is mindlessly done.
“Of course.” His smile lighting up leads to mine doing the same.
“But I meant what I said, Thayne. We will make decisions and rules and plays, together, going forth, especially when it comes to how we co-guardian Bronny. I’m working really hard to let my voice be heard.
I don’t want it drowned out again. Got it? ”
“Like a game winning save, baby.”
Small giggles escaping me are smothered out by his mouth lovingly landing on mine. Both of his hands possessively cup my face, letting just the tips of his fingers dig into the edges of my neck, anchoring me to him.
This moment.
This monumental decision there’s no coming back from.
Light whimpers grow in intensity each time his tongue laps mine yet increase in quantity when he accelerates the speed.
Gently guides me back until my ass bumps against the seat.
Swipes left and right, left and right, harder and harder as though convincing my scrub covered thighs to part wide.
Or simply wide enough to accommodate his large frame that’s now wedging itself between them.
Okay, banging at the office probably isn’t the right example to be setting for the teen we’re about to have complete responsibility for, but I feel we could toothpaste lid twist it into a life lesson.
Maybe one about spontaneous hookups being something special for your special person?
All of a sudden, a throat clearing sound convinces us to split apart, prompting me to give a loving, scolding speech about the importance of closed doors and knocking, when the sight of the individual responsible for the noise stuns me silent.
Shit.
“Hm,” Dad cheekily chuckles to himself, “is that a new technique for cleaning teeth?”
“Ohmyg-”
“I don’t think the human tongue is sterile enough for that,” teasingly adds my mom.
“Wh-”
“That’d be a dog,” Thayne needlessly joins in the conversation.
“No!” Both hands scramble to push my boyfriend off of me at the same time I squeak, “That’s a myth!” Tugging my hot pink scrubs back into the correct position is accompanied by me huffing, “A huge, disgusting, misleading myth!”
“Uh-huh and your tongue in his mouth is…?” Dad playfully pokes alongside the whirling around of his almond brown skinned finger.
“Not something you were supposed to see,” escapes in a flustered mumble and nose scrunch.
“But not something we can unsee,” Mom sassily shoots back, deep cognac shaded hands planting themselves on her black slacks bearing hips.
“You aren’t supposed to be back here when I’m with a patient-”
“You’re a patient?” Dad inquires without hesitation.
“No, I’m the patient,” Bronny unexpectedly chimes in from the space behind them, momentarily refocusing our attention on him. “And now…kinda like her side son.”
“What?!” squeaks the woman who gave birth to me as horror pierces my entire expression.
“No…” my head mindlessly shakes in continued disbelief. “Not…No.”
“No?” Sadness yet again shifts back into his stare. “You changed your mind already?”
“No.”
“No, you didn’t change your mind?!” anxiously investigates the teen.
“I…” the bobbing of my mouth can’t be stopped or helped or avoided.
This is a nightmare.
Like a serial killer plot twist on my favorite binge drama that no one asked for!
“Thayne,” he warmly announces at the same time he extends his open palm towards my dad. “Thayne Groff, Sir.”
“Malachi Blanc,” is spoken in a similar tone during the shaking. “And Groff…as in…Groffee?”
“Just Groff is fine, sir,” Jukes smoothly insists prior to offering my mom the same polite hand. “Ma’am.”
“Niya.” She repeats the action of my dad. “And Groffee-”
“Just Groff.”
“As in tendy?” Mom’s eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. “As in the first shift goal tender for The Dalvegan Dragons?”
“As in the best goal tender in the entire league,” Bronny enthusiastically boasts.
“Thanks, baby bro, but not helpin’,” Thayne less than quietly murmurs.
Definitely not.
But that was certainly first baby tooth cute.
For the amount of hell he puts up, there’s no denying the amount of love and admiration and approval Bronny seeks from his big brother.
And…me it seems.
Dad’s attention swiftly shifts to me. “Does your brother know?”
“What does he think about this whole situation?” Mom follows with the same quickness.
Because of course those are the most important questions right now.
How is this going to effect M?
His career?
His reputation?
His future?
Those have always been the most important questions to them.
To everyone.
“He…” the first hiccup of betrayal causes Dad’s nose to wrinkle, “will.” The next prompts matching headshakes from my parents. “Soon.” Another shakes my entire frame. “Ish?”
“We’ll tell Coach – uh – Blanc,” Thayne begins alongside the curling a protective arm around my frame, banishing the tell elsewhere, “whenever Gilly is ready to.”
Everyone except Thayne.
He puts me first.
Us first.
Right after Bronny.
Which I can honestly live with.
Kids should come first.
Like flossing before brushing.
“Ain’t that right, Gillybean?” His eyes fall to find mine, to wordlessly offer the support it’s evident I’m currently not receiving elsewhere. “We’ll tell him when you’re ready, aye?”
I sheepishly nod.
Struggle to flash him with a smile of gratitude.
Keeping him a secret forever definitely isn’t the gameplan; however, keeping him to myself, keeping something for just me feels incredible.
And yeah, it’s a little selfish.
But maybe it’s okay to be a little selfish every now and again.
“What,” hiccupping rudely intervenes again upon returning my focus to the unexpected intruders, “are you guys,” my figure bounces again, “doing,” the next tightens Thayne’s hold, “here?”
“You need a cold one?” Bronny concerningly inquires. “I can go grab it from your office.”
There’s barely time for me to politely decline with a headshake before Dad announces, “We texted earlier because we were shopping in the district-”
“Your dad needs a new suit for Duppy’s retirement ball-”
“Y’all are throwin’ a retirement party for a pup?!” the teen energetically interrupts. “That’s wild!”
“Dup-py,” Dad casually corrects, “is short for Duphrene. He’s the current – although retiring – fire chief for Dalvegan.”
Thayne’s head tilts slightly to the side. “You a firefighter, sir?”
“No, I own a fire sprinkler company which installs fire sprinklers for many, many businesses throughout the country, so we work quite closely with the heads of fire departments.”
“That’s fascinatin’, sir,” my boyfriend comments prompting another realization to hit me.
Guess he doesn’t really know much about my family besides M.
Just like they know nothing about him besides that he plays for M.
I guess…the idea of talking about them can’t be done without bringing up my big brother and if I bring him up then I have to bring up still not telling him and that just hasn’t been something I wanted to do.
“Why don’t we talk more about it over dinner?
” Dad cordially suggests. “That’s actually why we stopped by.
” The answer to my question has him sending his stare back to mine.
“We texted because we were in the area, and when we didn’t hear back, we figured we’d just pop on by to see if you were busy.
When Rhonnie sent us on back, we assumed that meant you were done for the day. ”
Of course, she sent them back.
I’d bet a bottle of Jukes favorite cologne that she’s standing somewhere in the hallway just listening to this made for streaming drama.
“I was almost done for the day,” escapes in a coyish nature.
“We would love to take you all out for a bite,” Dad insists in the same cheery manner as before. “Get to know Groff better.”
“Thayne,” I definitively insist without hesitation. “Please, call him Thayne. That’s what all the important people in his life do.”
“Except Gilly,” Bronny adds commentary once more. “She calls him Jukes ‘cause he’s like Spotify on skates.”
Mom struggles not to snicker prior to delightedly investigating. “And what should we call you, young man?”
“Trouble,” my boyfriend playfully insists.
“Bronny,” leaves me as I let my beaming return. “Short for Bronson.”
“Nice to meet you, Bronny,” Dad greets first while Mom promptly follows suit. “What do you think we should grab to eat?”
“Za!” he excitedly answers, consideration for anything else non-existent.
“Is that…” Mom’s face crinkles in confusion, “some sort of fusion food?”
“Short for pizza,” I announce alongside an amused headshake.
“How about we do Italian that way you can have pizza,” my face tips forward towards him, “and your brother can have something that will align better with his pre-season training meal plan that’s been coordinated by the new on deck personal chef who specializes in athlete nutrition. ”
“Lord have mercy, Gillybean,” croons my boyfriend, warranting my focus, “you truly are ‘Your Song’ you know that?”
“Is that an Elton John reference?” Mom asks, shock and awe coating her stare alike. “Did you just make a 70s Elton John reference?!”
“Why yes ma’am I did,” replies Jukes, gaze still glued to mine. “And I meant every word of it.”
“See,” cockily mutters the teen. “Apple Music in shorts that ain’t got no drip.”
“Italian sounds perfect,” Dad agrees in such a way we all divert our attention back to him. “And so does getting an update on our daughter’s life, especially your two new additions…”