The house smells like a mix between the fire burning in the circular, brick-walled firepit in the backyard and baby puke? The combination of the two is enough to make my nose scrunch.
‘Where’s my nephew?’ Gracie squeals when we get inside Oakley and Ava’s home. She takes off right away, leaving me standing in the doorway wearing an all-too-knowing look.
The happy couple moved from their old house in Seattle two months before their son, Maddox, was born, and Oakley’s contract with the Warriors was signed, but they settled in almost instantly.
The elaborate six-bedroom acreage sits on four acres of green land, next to a man-made lake and an old, wooden treehouse built at least ten years ago. The driveway is long and twisty, leading from the gravel road off the highway, through their tall, locked gate and up to the four-car, double-level garage connected to the side of the house. I can’t say what style the place is, other than it has tall, sharp peaks and a white, wrap-around porch that Gracie coos at every time we stop by.
It won’t be long before the huge yard is taken up by a jungle gym and cluttered with scattered toys. Hell, I wouldn’t doubt that before their baby boy can even walk that there will be an outdoor rink rooted somewhere in the grass as well. Poor kid is going to have skates laced around his tiny feet before he knows it.
‘That was fast,’ Oakley laughs and beckons me inside before shutting the door.
‘She’s obsessed with that kid of yours,’ I reply with a subtle smile and walk in step with Oakley as he leads us towards the half-open patio door at the back of the house. From the high-pitched baby talk coming from the backyard, I can only assume that’s where Ava and Gracie went.
‘I think we all are.’
I sneak a quick glance beside me and sigh when a blanket of happiness falls over my shoulders. I see the deep, dimpled grin he wears while saying those words. Pride floods his features, sinking into the slight smile-lines that have formed beside his lips and flaming like an uncontrolled forest fire in his squinted eyes.
Slapping a hand on his shoulder, I give it a tight squeeze and sigh, ‘Look at you. Getting all ooey-gooey.’
‘Fuck off,’ he snorts and shrugs off my hand. ‘How’s Brooks doing?’
I swallow past the ball in my throat and reply, ‘He’s good. We’re still trying really hard to get used to the whole thing. It’s weird, you know?’
He nods. ‘At least he’s trying.’
‘Yeah,’ I mutter in agreement. I think that’s the only reason why I’ve been able to handle the whole thing as well as I have been. If it wasn’t because I knew Brooks actually gave a shit about having a genuine relationship with me, I’m sure I would have high-tailed it out of his house that night and never looked back. His willingness to make right what my mother made wrong means more to me than I think he’ll ever know.
I haven’t seen my mom since that night and as much as I hate not knowing whether she’s lying dead in a ditch somewhere or making something of her life, I feel free too. I feel free not staying up for countless hours in the night worrying about whether she’s going to show up on my doorstep half-conscious. I’m still not sure if that makes me as bad of a person as I think it does, though.
‘I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that Braden is your blood. I mean this in the best way, but he’s such an arrogant fucker.’
I bite back my laugh and slide the patio door fully open. Oakley’s not wrong. Braden is what I consider an acquired taste. But he’s my brother so I guess I have to suck it up.
The early September evening air has a bit of a nip to it tonight as we join the girls by the fire pit. Gracie sits on one of the four wicker patio chairs holding Maddox as he rests his tiny head against her chest, eyes closed, while Ava sits down on another and watches Oakley move towards her with a soft smile.
‘Don’t I look amazing with a baby in my arms?’ Gracie asks when I sit down in the chair beside her, voice gentle in hopes of not waking the baby but not quiet enough that I miss the hint thick in her words. A somewhat terrifying noise—something like a cry from a wounded animal—tries to climb up my throat but I swallow it. I know my eyes are wide, mouth partially open from the serious question so I laugh, hoping to cover up my shock.
‘You always look amazing,’ I reply, hoping I’ve been convincing enough to hide my nerves.
Her eyes move over my face, eyebrows slightly furrowed as she examines me, searching for something—fear, most likely. I wouldn’t be surprised if she found it. The idea of kids terrifies me. It makes my knees wobble and my forehead clammy. But it isn’t because I don’t want them. I think I do. I want everything that I can get with Gray, but I’m pretty sure that I would be an awful dad. How would I even know how to raise a kid when I had nobody worth a shit raising me? The last thing I want is to raise another me, or worse, another River.
My knee shakes as I look across the firepit at Oakley. He’s a fucking great dad. With the patience of a saint, heart the size of a dinner plate, and an uncanny ability to fear nothing, it doesn’t surprise me even in the slightest. He was born to be a husband and father. God knows he’s already had enough practice being the man of the house. But me? That’s another story.
I’m an arrogant, short-tempered hot-head with more baggage stacked inside my head than at an airport. I don’t know what a normal childhood is even supposed to look like, how it’s supposed to feel. How would I be able to raise a kid not knowing if what I was doing was right or wrong?
A pain throbs behind my eyes. Giving my head a quick shake, I look at Gracie again. I watch silently as she hums a soft lullaby, cheek resting against Maddoxs’ dark brown, peach-fuzz-covered head. Happiness radiates off of her in thick, chest-constricting waves and I try to look away but find my gaze locked on the fat, princess-cut diamond wrapped around her ring finger instead. There’s a pinch in my chest as my heart throws itself around in my ribcage.
With one knee in soft, white sand on the same Mexico beach where Gracie began chipping away at what I assumed was an indestructible wall around my heart, I proposed to her—the love of my fucking life. In front of her brother and mine—the half-brother who isn’t nose deep in cocaine—and my dad. She said yes and made me the happiest fucker in the whole damn world.
I nearly throw my palm against my forehead as I sharply realize that I wouldn’t be the only one raising our babies. Gray was born to be a mom. I see it in the way her grins dimple and eyes warm when she teaches a dance class; how she bounces in her seat, excitement shooting in her veins every time she leaves to go babysit her nephew. She’s still so young and I know that there’s no rush, so why am I getting myself worked up over something that I’m sure I’ll be ready for when the time comes?
Because I’m an idiot. That’s why.
‘Are you okay, Ty?’ I hear her ask, the question breaking me out of the mental cage I’ve thrown myself in.
I nod and meet her curious gaze. ‘Come here.’
She raises a brow before I pat my lap and understanding floods her features. Carefully standing up from the chair, she tightens her grip on Maddox and walks over to me, slow and steady in hopes of not waking him. Soon she’s in front of me, turning around so she can sit down. I reach forward and wrap my arms tightly around her waist and pull her towards me, sucking in a greedy breath when her back rests against my chest.
I feel Oakley’s beady eyes on me and turn to him, the left side of my mouth lifting. It doesn’t take long for Ava to reach over and smack him on the arm.
‘Leave them alone,’ she chides, swatting at a spark that flies from the fire towards her newly dyed, long auburn hair. It’s a new look for her, compared to the short chestnut brown we’re used to seeing but it looks good.
Oakley throws his hands up in front of him. ‘I didn’t say anything!’
‘You forget how well I know you,’ Ava teases, smiling deviantly. Oakley rolls his eyes dramatically before copying me and patting his own lap.
‘Well?’
‘Well, what?’ Ava feigns ignorance, shrugging.
‘Oh, you know what. Don’t make me put you here myself.’
‘Was that supposed to be a threat?’
Oakley’s Adam’s apple bobs as he leans over the side of his chair and mutters something under his breath that I’m thankful I’m too far away to hear.
I rest my chin on Gracie’s shoulder and shove my face in her neck, laughing against the warm skin. ‘What an idiot.’
‘Oakley or Ava?’ She shivers against me.
‘Your brother.’
‘You’re just figuring that out?’
I pull away from her neck and look down at the button-nosed boy wrapped up in a Vancouver Warriors blanket, laying in Gracie’s arms, dead to the world around him. I can hear his steady breaths falling from his tiny mouth and I feel the corners of mine tugging.
‘How many kids do you want?’ I whisper, knowing I took her by surprise when she gasps, turning her head to look at me.
‘Since when do you want to talk about kids?’
That’s a good question, baby. I shrug. ‘Since now, I guess.’
She nods once. ‘I think two. Both boys. I know how much trouble girls are.’
I half-expected the idea of having two mini-versions of myself running around to make me want to throw up. But the warmth whipping around in my veins makes my smile spread far enough that I wonder if it could rip my cheeks.
‘Then two boys it is.’
She giggles. ‘That’s not how it works, babe. You don’t get to pick.’
‘Too fucking bad,’ I scoff and my connected hands break apart as I slide one under her baggy sweatshirt and place it against her stomach, palm warm against the soft skin.
‘What’s up with you tonight?’ she asks and leans her cheek against the side of my head.
‘Nothing. I just love you.’
She blows out a slow breath. ‘I love you too.’
‘Good,’ I reply before tilting my head and placing a soft kiss under her jawbone. ‘Because you can’t get rid of me now.’
‘Is that a threat or a promise?’
‘A promise,’ I mutter. I know my tone is pin-straight and determined. ‘Definitely a promise.’
The sound of the patio door sliding open captures our attention as four heads snap in the direction of the house. I can nearly feel the tension rising like air in a hot-air-balloon when Adam steps outside, a miniature version of himself gripping his hand for dear life. It doesn’t take long for Adam to speak just one word that falls as heavy as a bed of bricks, cutting through the cool night air.
“Surprise?”
