Saylor

by Kelsie Rae

  But there’s one thing that feels clearer than ever after multiple orgasms in multiple locations while wrapped in Owen’s arms.

  He’ll always be the one.

  Which is terrifying. Because if he left once, what’s to stop him from leaving again?

  20

  Owen

  “When should we pick up Grady?” Saylor mumbles, her hair tickling my bare chest as we lounge in bed. I’m a little sore from all our activities, but I slept like a rock. Squinting, I check the time and groan.

  “It’s almost ten in the morning. I never sleep this late.”

  “To be fair, we didn’t do much sleeping until like two in the morning, so it kind of makes sense.”

  I chuckle under my breath and reach for my phone. “Let me text Mandy and see what she says.”

  Me: Hey, how’s Grady and Turner?

  Mandy: They’re good. Pretty sure they were brothers in a previous life. ;) Did you have a fun date?

  “What’d she say?” Saylor asks, resting her chin on my chest as it bounces up and down with amusement.

  “Mandy asked if I had fun on our date.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “I haven’t answered her yet.”

  “Well, don’t keep us waiting,” she teases, a hint of vulnerability in her warm gaze.

  “Fiiine.” My fingers fly across the screen as I respond.

  Me: We had a blast. It was fun to reconnect with an old friend.

  Once it’s sent, I hand the phone to Say so she can read what the message says.

  Her mouth curves up. “Reconnecting? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

  “Would you prefer I told her that we tried to catch up on a decade’s worth of sex in a single night?”

  “I mean, I don’t know if I’d call that a whole decade’s––”

  My fingers dig into her rib cage, tickling the shit out of her as I drag her petite frame up my body until our bare chests are pressed together.

  “Stop! Stop!” she squeals. “I give up!”

  My fingers cease their torture before I press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Fine, but only ‘cause you’re pretty.”

  With a smirk, she flutters her lashes. “Why, thank you. You’re not so bad yourself, ya know. The last decade has done you good.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  She bites her lip to keep from smiling, but it’s a wasted effort. Her straight white teeth flash before she changes the subject. “So tell me, does Mandy know that I’m the girl you went out with last night?”

  “I kept it vague because a certain someone said they want to keep this”––I wag my finger between us––“on the down-low for the time being. But if I’m allowed to let the cat out of the bag…?”

  “Nope. I’m good with vague for now.”

  “Then, I guess that means I’m not invited to Sunday dinner,” I note.

  She grimaces. “I was thinking I’d skip….”

  “Is that because I’m not invited since I’m still your dirty little secret or…?”

  Her lips press into mine, effectively shutting me up before she pulls away. “You’re not a dirty little secret. But you are an amazing dad, and I don’t want you to put Grady on hold just because we’ve been a little busy…catching up.”

  “Oh, so catching up is better than reconnecting?” I joke.

  She laughs. “Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe. We should pick Grady up soon, though. Maybe go grab some breakfast or something?”

  “You want to come?”

  “Of course. If I’m invited,” she clarifies. “And no pressure if I’m not, since, ya know, I haven’t formally invited you to Sunday dinner tonight.”

  “So, you’re saying there’s a possibility?”

  “I don’t know?” Her cute button nose scrunches. “I haven’t decided yet. And before you assume it’s because of you, just know that it’s not. It’s more because of Skye being miserable without Liam and the likelihood of my family overreacting and making a big deal out of a very new relationship. You know how they are….”

  “I get it.” Threading my fingers in her hair, I pull her closer to me and kiss the tiny ‘v’ between her furrowed brows. “And there’s no pressure from me for an invitation, either. I promised we’d go at your pace, remember?”

  With a soft smile, she closes her eyes and presses a gentle kiss to my lips that tastes like honey and sunshine. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “So…what do you say about that brunch with Grady? Technically, you still haven’t invited me, but it also sounds fun, so….”

  “Saylor.” I press another kiss to her forehead. “Would you.” Kiss. “Like to go.” Kiss. “To brunch.” Kiss. “With me.” Kiss. “And Grady?”

  Those big doe eyes hit me square in the chest as she peeks up at me and pulls the sheets up to cover her shy smile. “I mean…if you insist.”

  I tug the sheet away and give her another kiss. “I insist.”

  “So tell me, Grady, do you like pancakes, or are you more of a waffles guy?” Saylor asks with her elbows on the table and a breakfast menu spread out in front of her.

  “Um…waffles,” Grady decides.

  Say grins, then nudges him with her elbow. “Me too!”

  They’re both scrunched into one side of the booth while I’m on the opposite. Grady chose to sit next to Saylor when we first got here, and I know it made Say’s day. It made mine too.

  “How ‘bout you, Dad?” Grady asks. “Do you like waffles like me and Miss Swenson?”

  “You can call me Saylor,” she tells him, her smile patient and kind.

  His blue eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her. “Really?”

  “Yup. But only when we’re outside of the classroom, okay? If we’re at school, then we gotta stick with my formal name, Miss Swenson, so the other kids don’t get jealous. Deal?”

  Grady nods with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Deal.”

  “I like French toast, by the way,” I interject. I’d be jealous that Grady and Saylor have such an easy relationship if I weren’t so damn ecstatic about it. I always knew she’d be a great mom, and even though we aren’t there yet in our relationship, I can almost see it play out right in front of me. Like a preview to a movie that I know I’m going to love despite the fact that I haven’t officially seen the whole thing yet.

  “How ‘bout bacon or sausage?” Saylor asks, her gaze bouncing between both of us.

  “Bacon,” Grady pipes up.

  “Bacon,” I agree.

  Saylor reveals, “I’m a sausage girl.”

  “Yeah, she is,” I concur with a wink, but Say just rolls her eyes.

  They continue their easy game of this or that before placing their orders of waffles with whipped cream and strawberries. Grady sticks with bacon, and Saylor asks for sausage on the side while I soak in the easiness of the morning like a dry sponge.

  It was never this way with Grady’s mom. Hell, none of us could stand to be in the same room with each other. Even Grady got annoyed whenever his mom would come around. I think he could see through her bullshit just as easily as I could. But this? This is something else. It’s natural. Refreshing. And so damn perfect that I’d give anything to pause this moment and live in it forever.

  There aren't any what if’s. No regrets. No doubts. Just us. Smiling and playing games like it’s just another Sunday brunch.

  “I’m going to go use the restroom,” I tell them, hooking my thumb toward the back of the building. “Grady, do you need to go?”

  With his mouth full of waffle, he shakes his head. “Nope.”

  “Okay. Uh,” I turn to Say. “You okay watching him for a minute?”

  Her hand is warm as she sets it on top of mine, then squeezes. “You don’t even need to ask. I got this.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  There’s a giant pig resting on a shelf above the restrooms with a sign hanging around its neck. It reads: Boars and
Sows This Way with an arrow pointing down the hall. I follow the directions and do my business before washing my hands in the sink when a familiar face catches my eye.

  “Principal Wells?”

  “Hello, Mr. Daniels,” he returns.

  “What are you doing here?” Say and I had chosen a restaurant off the beaten path to keep from running into anyone for this specific reason.

  Principal Wells shrugs one shoulder and replies, “This is my brother-in-law’s restaurant. We come here every Sunday to support his local business.”

  “It’s hardly local,” I joke.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re correct. Are you here with your family?”

  “Just Grady, me, and”––I clear my throat––“a friend.”

  “Friend?”

  “Um, me and Saylor,” I answer. It’s not like he won’t find out if he walks through the restaurant while we’re still here, and being caught in a lie would only encourage his suspicion. “We’ve known each other since high school and decided to meet for brunch.”

  Head cocked, and eyes narrowed into tiny slits, he studies me carefully, making me feel like I’m beneath a microscope.

  “Friends?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hmm,” he hums, his unmanicured nails scratching his cleanly shaven jaw. “I told you about our dating policy, didn’t I?”

  “Yes. You mentioned it at the Boo Bash.”

  “I thought so,” he returns, but that same microscopic intensity stays pointed in my direction. “It’d be fine if she were to remain a teacher, of course. But if she’s serious about being considered for the vice-principal position next year, which is already a bit of a long shot considering her age, I’m afraid this…friendship would be highly frowned upon.”

  There’s an underlying tone that makes the French toast in my stomach churn, but I swallow past it, refusing to back down.

  “Then, I guess it’s a good thing I’ll only be sticking around for the rest of the school year,” I divulge. The declaration surprises me as much as it seems to shock Principal Wells.

  His eyes widen. “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” I return, my confidence building.

  “And what will you do instead?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. But I have plenty of time to consider my options before the end of the year. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s a valid point. In fact, I’ve mentioned your name to a few fellow associates, including a friend of mine who’s quite the football fanatic. I don’t suppose you know Jefferson Banks, do you?”

  “Jefferson Banks, as in the LAU head coach?” I ask.

  “The one and only.”

  I grab a paper towel from the dispenser and dry my hands. “Yeah, I’m familiar with him. He began coaching the year after my injury.”

  “He’s a good man.”

  “He is,” I agree. “How do you know him?”

  “I might be an elementary school principal, but I like to think my connections run deeper than that. In this instance, however, I’m LAU alumni.”

  “Ah, makes sense,” I return, tossing the used paper towel into the garbage can next to the exit.

  “He’s also looking for an offensive line assistant coach.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I’d be happy to mention your name––”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “It won’t?”

  “No. Grady and I don’t plan on moving across the country again. We’re comfortable here.”

  “That’s a shame. The last time we spoke, he mentioned how impressed he was with your work ethic and skill at recognizing the big picture. Said you recruited some great players and that you could see plays before they happened.”

  “He’s very generous,” I return as an awkward silence settles over us. To be fair, we’re talking in the middle of a men’s restroom in the middle of nowhere. It isn’t exactly what I’d call a prime location for discussing business. Then again, the Boo Bash wouldn’t normally be my first choice, either. Seems Principal Wells has an odd sense of timing, though I don’t plan on telling him that. I get the feeling he’s the type to hold a grudge, and I’d hate for my connection with peSaylor to ruin her chances at getting her dream job.

  “Well, don’t let me keep you.” He waves his hand toward the exit. “Enjoy your brunch.”

  “You too.”

  And with that, I pull open the swinging door and head back to the table. When I reach it, Grady is studying the surface, his forehead wrinkled in deep concentration as I slide into the booth.

  “What are you guys doing?” I ask.

  “She took something, and I gotta figure out what it is,” Grady informs me, his expression as stern as ever.

  Confused, I scan the table. There are a few forks, our nearly-empty glasses and plates, a crinkled straw wrapper, and Say’s phone.

  Still lost, I look over at Saylor. “What?”

  She smiles. “It’s a game. He looks at the table and makes a mental note of everything in sight. Then, he closes his eyes, and I grab something without letting him see what it is. After that, he gets to look back at the table and uses his memory to guess what I took.”

  “Ah, okay.” I turn to Grady. “Any guesses, bud?”

  “Um, is it the pink sugar?” he asks.

  She opens her hand and shows him a tiny pinky sugar packet. “Nailed it. Good job, Grady!”

  “Thanks.”

  “Is everyone finished?” I ask as I take in the almost empty plates scattered in front of us.

  “Yup. All done. Saylor let me have her last bite of sausage. It was so good,” Grady replies.

  Say’s eyebrows bounce up and down as she tells me, “I may have converted him.”

  “Then there’s all the more bacon for me,” I quip, sneaking the last piece from Grady’s plate before popping it into my mouth.

  “So, what are we doing after this?” Grady asks.

  “No idea. Saylor’s probably tired, though, and might want to call it a day….”

  Two sets of cool blue eyes land on Saylor as both Grady and I wait for her to answer us.

  Is it selfish of me to hope she sticks around for the rest of the day?

  Her phone rings, letting her off the hook, and she lifts her finger.

  “Hold that thought,” she tells us before answering it. “Hello?”

  Silence.

  “Hey, Skye. Of course, I was home last night.” Her gaze meets mine from across the booth.

  “Yeah, I headed out early.”

  She pauses.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

  Another pause.

  “Aw man, that sucks. Do you want me to grab you anything? Maybe some crackers or something?”

  Pause.

  “Okay, yeah. I’ll let Mom and Dad know. And if you decide you need anything, just text me, and I’ll take care of it, okay?”

  Pause.

  “Yup. Love you, Skye.”

  Then Saylor hangs up and gives me an unsure smile.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Yup. Actually….” The corner of her phone rests against her dimpled chin before she exhales and tucks it back into her purse. “I was wondering if you guys would like to come to my family’s house for dinner? They have snowmobiles that I think you’d love, Grady, and there’s lots of fresh snow in case you want to build a snowman too.”

  “I love building snowmen!” Grady turns to me with wide puppy dog eyes that could win over the devil. “Can we go, Dad? Please?”

  My gaze connects with Say’s from across the table as I try to read her mind. Is she sure about this? Or is she feeling pressure from me to take the next step before she’s ready?

  She’s close to her family. Always has been. Inviting me––let alone my kid––is a big deal. And we both know it.

  That same unsure smile greets me for another few seconds before I turn back to Grady and nod.

  “I
think we can make that happen.”

  “Yes!” he yells at a decibel that’s way too loud for an almost empty restaurant in the middle of nowhere. I hand Saylor her car keys, then lift my chin toward the parking lot.

  “Why don’t you guys go get in the car, and I’ll take care of the check?”

  “Owen, I can––”

  “Don’t even think about it, Say. I’ll meet you at the car, okay?”

  Her lips pull into a thin line before she scoots out of the booth and slips her arms into her coat. Then she lifts Grady’s so that he can do the same. Once they’re all bundled up, Say offers her hand for Grady to take, and my chest tightens as I watch him weave their fingers together. Side by side, they walk into the parking lot, their tangled hands swaying back and forth as Grady looks up at Say with the cutest, most adoring expression I’ve ever seen.

  The kid’s mom signed over her rights as a parent as soon as my condition hit ESPN. And even though it hurt me to see her turn away from her own kid, her abandonment hurt Grady even more. But this? This moment between the love of my life and the best kid in the whole damn world? It’s something else. It gives me hope that Grady and I––that Saylor and I––can get through all the shit we’ve had thrown at us and maybe find our happily ever after.

  Maybe.

  If it wasn’t weird, I’d snap a picture, but I use my memory to capture the moment instead.

  And I know it’ll be enough. Because I have a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot more of these moments in the future.

  I can’t wait.

  21

  Saylor

  “You’re nervous,” I whisper from the passenger seat as we pull up to my parents’ house.

  “I’m not nervous,” Owen defends, giving me the side-eye.

  I quirk my brow.

  “Okay, I’m nervous, but do you blame me?” he mutters under his breath.

  “It’ll be fine––”

  “I broke their daughter’s heart, Say.”

  “Yeah, but––”

  “I broke their sister’s heart,” he continues, reminding me of Sway’s and Skye’s points of view too.