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Loose Ends

Page 41

by Kristen Ashley


  He grinned, drove out of the spot and was waiting for the road to clear in order to turn into it when his cab rang.

  He looked to the dash.

  The number was not programmed into his phone.

  But it had a 317 area code.

  “Shit, fuck,” he bit off, taking the turn.

  Which one was it and how did they get his number?

  He should blow it off. Not answer. Block the caller.

  But maybe this could lead to something.

  Something for Diesel.

  He took the call.

  “Maddox,” he said as answer.

  There was nothing.

  Good, maybe they’d lose courage, hang up.

  “Maddox?”

  Shit.

  They didn’t hang up.

  And it was D’s dad.

  “Yeah?” he faked not knowing who it was in hopes the man would chicken out.

  “This is Gene Stapleton. Diesel’s father.”

  “Yeah, Gene. I know who you are,” Maddox said on a sigh.

  “Are you . . . away from my son?” Gene asked.

  “For the next ten minutes. I’m heading home.”

  “We need to talk.”

  The man said no more.

  Maddox pulled his shit together to be cool and prompted, “I’m right here, Gene. What do you have to say?”

  “You need to leave our son alone.”

  Fuck.

  “Gene—”

  “You’ve got some kinda hold on him I don’t get. But for him, you need to let go. You need to move out. Let him and his girl be. Let him be who he—”

  “First, Gene, the house is mine. I own it.”

  It took a second for him to recover from that before he said, “Then you need to let them move out.”

  “Right, I own it but we all live there, it’s a home we share and will continue to share until we have children. Then we’ll probably need a bigger place.”

  “You . . . you’re gonna . . . have kids?”

  He sounded like he was choking.

  Shit, this was actually kinda fun.

  “At least two, maybe four,” Mad shared cheerfully.

  “Jesus, that’s . . . Jesus, it’s—”

  “Second,” Maddox interrupted, “I don’t have to tell you that your son is thirty-two years old. He’s mature, intelligent, quick as a whip. He’s also strong-willed and knows his own mind. There is no way anyone could make him do something he doesn’t want to do.”

  “It is not my boy who spoke to his mother the way Diesel did yesterday, saying the things he said,” Gene retorted.

  That’s funny, I watched your boy do just that, Maddox thought.

  But he said, “I’m not sure we’re gonna get anywhere with this conversation, Gene, so maybe we should just leave this here, you and Verna think on things a little further, and when you come to terms with how it is, you give Diesel a call.”

  “Diesel’s confused,” he decreed.

  “Diesel isn’t confused.”

  “My son is not one of those . . .” Gene trailed off.

  “What?” Maddox asked.

  Gene didn’t answer.

  “One of those what, Gene?” Maddox pushed.

  “He’s not one of your kind,” Gene spat.

  Right.

  He was wrong.

  This was not fun.

  “And I thank God every day you’re wrong,” Maddox returned. “Now I got a feeling this is just going to deteriorate so we should end it here.”

  “This is tearing his mother apart,” Gene announced.

  “This is gonna make me sound all kinds of asshole to a man like you, Gene, but I have to tell you I have little compassion for that. There is no reason why this should mean anything to you or Verna outside making you both thrilled your son is happy and he’s found two people who love him very much. But I have a feeling that’s not gonna get through to you. Maybe someday it will. Until that happens, let’s all live our own lives, yeah?”

  “It took a lot for me to stop Diesel’s brother from drivin’ right out there and showin’ you exactly what we think about this . . . fuckin’ . . . shit.”

  “Glad you stopped him, Gene, ’cause once Gunner got here, that wouldn’t have gone too good for him.”

  “Diesel’s close to his older brother. Looks up to him. Always wanted to be like him. Gunner’d be able to talk some sense into my boy, so I think you’re wrong. I think if Gunner made it there, it wouldn’t go too good for you.”

  “Trust me on this, you don’t want to find out the way that’d go.”

  “Feel like lettin’ him head on out there now,” Gene sniped.

  “Again, I’d advise you not do that.”

  “And what you gonna do, a fuckin’ pansy faggot? My Gunner’d wipe the—”

  Maddox had never . . .

  Not once . . .

  Not in his life . . .

  Been called that word.

  “We’re done,” Maddox growled. “I’m hanging up and I’m blocking you so don’t waste the time calling back. And I swear to fuck, Gene, you call D and feed him any of this shit, it’s another Stapleton who’s gonna have to pull back a man in his life from going fucking apeshit. I don’t give a fuck you’re an old, tired, bigoted asshole. You’ve met me. So you’ve seen me. You think about that. I’d break you in two. And I’d have decency on my side and I’d be fighting for my family. Never met Gunner, but with both those at my back, he thinks to fuck with Diesel, he wouldn’t stand a fucking chance.”

  He landed that, ended the call on his steering wheel, snatched up his phone, and did something Molly would have fits over. He drove while he engaged his phone to find that number and block it.

  Only then did he toss the phone on his workout bag in the passenger seat and fully concentrate on driving.

  He had five minutes to get his head together so he didn’t bring that shit home to Diesel and Molly.

  Because he had absolutely no intention of saying dick to either of them about that call. If by some slim chance Gene, Verna or Gunner shared about it, it wouldn’t take much to explain why he didn’t.

  But right now, they were in the best place they’d ever been. With Barclay and Josh taking him on at the Bolt, D was feeling in the zone he could do his part to get Molly’s ring and texting Mad to get the money and pick it up.

  That bullshit didn’t factor in their lives until it shoved its way in in a way that Maddox couldn’t keep it out.

  He made it home, parked, let himself inside and saw D and Molly camped out on the couch, eating chips and salsa, watching TV.

  “Hey, honey!” Molly chirped.

  “Yo, bro,” D called.

  “Hey,” Maddox called back, hooked a right, hit the laundry room, dumped his bag and then retraced his steps to the hall. When he was about to pass the couch, he pointed to D, “You, bedroom.”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “I suppose the little woman stays out here and makes dinner.”

  “Doin’ him fast, later doin’ you slow, that later being after D orders us Thai,” Maddox told her.

  She clapped and her face lit up. “I love Thai.”

  Like he didn’t know that.

  He grinned over his shoulder at her as he moved down the hall to the bedroom.

  He went right to the bathroom.

  D came in slowly, looking around the room before he caught Mad’s eye.

  “Am I coming in the sink again?” he asked.

  Maddox smiled at him and ordered, “Shut the door.”

  D gave him a look but twisted at the waist, reached out a long arm and shut the door.

  When he turned back, Maddox announced, “The Phoenician, long weekend. We’ll take a Monday off. Room service with champagne when we ask her. Marathon fuck session. We’ll set up some spa shit for her on Saturday. She gets back, more marathon fucking all weekend long. When you and I got our days off cleared, I’ll call her boss to sort her day off. I’ll get the ring. You handle flowers and chocolate an
d shit like that. And ask Sixx what spa shit we should do for her.”

  “I’m not sure Sixx is a spa chick. Holly might be better for that,” Diesel noted.

  “Find some other chick. Holly’ll totally let it slip just so she can be the one to share the news and be in on something in order to make it partially about her when it’s not about her at all. And not either of the moms. They’ll be so excited, who knows what they’ll fuckin’ do.”

  “Yeah, didn’t think about that. Maybe if Sixx doesn’t know spa shit, she knows some other chick who knows spa shit.”

  Something surprising occurred to Maddox.

  “Other than Sixx, do we know any other women?” he asked.

  “Not ones we haven’t fucked,” Diesel answered.

  “We’re not asking some chick we fucked for spa recos for Molly.”

  “Word.”

  “So it’s Sixx,” Maddox decided.

  Diesel nodded.

  “We sorted with that?” Maddox asked.

  Slowly, Diesel grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Right.”

  D tipped his head to the side. “Now you fuckin’ me, or what?”

  “I asked you in here to talk about how we’re gonna give Molly her ring.”

  “And we talked about that, so you gonna fuck me or what? Alternate, am I fuckin’ you or what?”

  Slowly, Maddox grinned. “You want me to bend over the sink or the bed?”

  “I don’t give a shit about locale. I just give a shit about getting a fast, hot fuck.”

  Maddox dipped his voice low. “Then show me your cock, baby.”

  Diesel started to do just that, the problem was, when Maddox pulled his jeans down, his big, hard dick sprang free and Diesel caught sight of it.

  So apparently, Diesel felt he was forced to push Mad up on the counter, face to face, so he could be face to something else and go down on him a while before he fucked him with Mad’s ass to the edge of the counter, knees up and cocked, his legs spread wide. Maddox’s hands were pressed to the counter, holding himself steady. D had one hand jacking Mad’s cock, the other flat against the mirror over Mad’s shoulder, bracing.

  They were both close, to each other and to orgasm, Diesel jacking him hard and fucking him harder, their lips locked, when the door opened.

  They broke the kiss and turned their heads to look at the door to see Molly there, hands on her hips.

  “Jeez, you guys are taking forever,” Molly complained.

  “Five minutes,” Maddox grunted.

  Her eyes moved over them, ending on D’s hand on the mirror.

  “You’re gonna leave a handprint,” she declared.

  “Baby, stop being cute, I’m losing my concentration,” Diesel growled.

  Maddox started laughing.

  He stopped when he groaned as he started coming.

  Diesel turned to his man, fucked his ass, milked his dick and kissed the orgasm rolling from his lips.

  Within seconds, with that last, Maddox returned the favor.

  They were breathing in each other’s faces, foreheads touching, Maddox looking close into D’s blue eyes, thinking about Molly’s speech by the pool about how lucky they were.

  Just weeks ago, he was worried they were falling apart.

  And now they were closer than ever.

  “Good?” Diesel asked quietly.

  “Yeah, man,” Maddox answered.

  In unison, they turned their heads to see Molly still there.

  “We’re done. Happy now?” Diesel inquired.

  “No. Because you both just came hard. You better have saved some up because if I don’t get it good later, from both of you, I’ll be peeved.”

  And with that, she flounced off.

  Maddox wondered if she knew that they knew her bullshit drama was all show.

  Seriously, the woman didn’t even try to hide her smile as she turned away.

  Mad wasn’t sure, he didn’t remember, but he didn’t think he’d ever had D slip out of him while Mad’s body was shaking with laughter.

  Or feeling D slip free with D’s body shaking with it.

  But he’d never forget that moment, that time, all that goodness, making plans with D on how to give Molly her ring, a quick fuck with his boy, a dose of cute from their girl.

  Never.

  Diesel

  That Friday afternoon, D stood at the opening of Gate B, Terminal 4, Sky Harbor Airport, scanning the groups of people the hall coughed up until her red head came his way.

  No one in the family knew where Rebel got her thick, waving, dark red hair, but her light blue eyes were the same as D’s, which were the same as their father’s, so their mom stepping out was probably off the table.

  She was grinning at him as she was practically skipping to him, her pretty face prettier than he remembered.

  Then again, after they were apart for a while, when he saw her again, he always thought that shit.

  But even with the grin, she couldn’t quite hide she was taking him in with a focus that was a lot more than Rebel being happy to see her big brother.

  “God, you’re good-lookin’,” she declared when she was three feet away.

  Then she threw herself in his arms.

  Those arms closed around her, holding her tight.

  “Hey, babe,” he muttered into the hair above her ear.

  They moved apart, but held on, Rebel pressing her hands against his shoulders affectionately, then clasping onto the sides of his neck, up to his cheeks, then to his shoulders again where she squeezed.

  All this while her eyes did a scan of his face, taking in every inch.

  “Mom called about seventeen thousand times,” she declared.

  Yup.

  Not a surprise.

  No beating around the bush for Rebel Eugenie Stapleton.

  “Mm-hmm,” he muttered.

  “I wanted to call you about seven million times, but I figured I’d be down here so we could talk in person.”

  Two could not beat around the bush.

  “They know I’m bi. They know I’m committing to Molly and Maddox. And they’re not super hip on these ideas,” he announced.

  “So you went with ye ole ‘tell the mom unit over the phone’ route rather than having a sit down,” she remarked, and D got tense.

  “Molly’s ring costs almost as much as a car. I’m not wasting money and vacation time on a plane ticket just to have them be assholes to my face.”

  “D,” she said softly, “not givin’ you shit. But just to say, of the thousand of those seventeen thousand phone calls that I took from Mom, she’s degenerated from bein’ pissed on the whole about this sitch to being pissed on the whole about this sitch and the lack of respect that you threw that out over the phone.”

  “Not surprised she’s finding new ways to work herself up,” he replied. “As for me, I’m still just pissed on the whole they haven’t sent a fruit basket to share how thrilled they are I’ve set up house with the people I love.”

  She grinned up at him. “A fruit basket?”

  He burst out laughing.

  He also let her go but tossed an arm around her shoulders, feeling hers slide along his waist, and he directed her to the escalators that led to baggage claim.

  “So this ring?” she asked when they were on the escalator.

  D dug out his phone, went to Mad’s text string and scrolled up.

  By the time he got through all the stuff in between, they’d located her carousel and were standing by it.

  He showed the picture of the ring to his sister.

  Rebel took the phone, her brows went up, her eyes got wide, and her smile was huge before she said, “Holy crap, that’s sheer perfection.”

  “I know,” he agreed.

  She handed him back his phone, still smiling, and again scanning his face.

  “You seem good.”

  “I am good,” he confirmed.

  “Last time we talked . . .” She didn’t finish that.
/>   “Last time we talked I was workin’ through some shit. I worked through it. Now I’m tight.”

  “Yeah?” she asked softly.

  He looked in her eyes. “I’m happy as fuck. I get it now.”

  She moved closer to him. “Get what?”

  “How Tommy was when it all came out all those years ago. How it was this huge, nasty drama to everyone but him. How to him it was like, ‘Right, that’s your damage, I’m not gonna let it damage me.’ How that was a relief. Like lifting off a weight. Talked to him after I told Ma and that’s what he called it. A weight. You live with it, you don’t realize how much it’s holding you down. Until it’s gone. And it’s gone. And that feels fuckin’ great.”

  “That’s awesome,” Rebel said quietly, still working her scan.

  “It’s more, Reb,” he shared. “The weight is about me, yeah. It was bringing me down. But that wasn’t the important part. It was weighing on Mol and Mad too. The longer I hid who they were to me, the heavier it got for all of us, and that was what was draggin’ my shit so low. Freeing myself was freeing them. And that’s the best part, not that I’m happy without anything dragging at it. That we all are.”

  His sister’s face finally cleared.

  “Then that’s super, freaking, crazy awesome,” Rebel replied.

  He hooked an arm around her shoulders, brought her in, kissed her forehead, then shoved her face in his chest.

  “Glad I worked my shit out before you got down here, so it could just be good,” he said in her hair.

  She tipped her head back. “I am too, even though I would have been good helpin’ you get to where you needed to be.”

  “I know, honey,” he murmured.

  She gave him a squeeze. They let each other go. And not long later, the carousel started rolling.

  When she went for a bag, D muscled her out of the way, nabbed it, tossed the strap over his shoulder, his arm over hers, and guided her to his truck.

  The airport was barely fifteen minutes from their house and they gabbed about nothing all the way there.

  And like she was watching (which she probably was), Molly shot out the side door of the garage before he had his truck fully stopped.

  She was in Rebel’s space, barely enough room for his sister to get out of the door she’d opened, jumping up and down, clapping and shouting, “You’re here!”

 

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