by Jessica Roe
“The baby?” I guess.
His mouth tightens into a thin, white line. “It's just hormones.”
I nod, though I'm not sure I believe it. “Yeah, man. As soon as that kid comes along she'll fall in love with it.”
“Yeah.”
My stomach sinks, because my brother doesn't deserve to deal with her shit. What kind of a woman says that she hates her unborn child? I slap his shoulder. “I'm sorry.”
He shrugs, then pastes on that cheery grin he's always been known for, though this one looks forced. “Come on, I'll show you around inside.”
Standing, I eye the dented door doubtfully. “You sure it's safe?”
Getting out a set of keys, which is probably pointless when the front door seems like it could be easily pulled off with our bare hands, he opens up and pushes inside. “Stop being such a pussy.”
I follow him in and as he shows me around, I've got to admit that I'm impressed. The place is a lot bigger than it looks on the outside and it really will be pretty decent once it's cleaned up. He shows me where he plans to put the living room and dining room, and though the huge windows are grimy and broken, they let it a lot of light which makes the spaces look even larger. The kitchen is small, but there are sliding doors leading to the back porch where there's plenty of room for tables and chairs. He was right – the house has good, solid bones, despite the bits that are falling apart.
“Pretty sure there've been a few squatters over the years,” Zac admits with a cringe, eyeing the graffiti on the walls, the broken windows and the mess. But in that easy going manner he has down well, he shrugs it off and shows me the back garden, which is large, but in even worse shape than the front.
“I was thinking this room for the baby,” he says proudly when we make our way up the surprisingly sturdy staircase. He points out the skylight and the window seat enthusiastically and I realize something then for the first time – despite all the shit Hailee's dishing out and despite the shock of impending fatherhood, now that it's started to sink it he's really happy about this. Excited, even. Being a dad at the age of twenty two may not have been in his original plan, but now that it's happened he's embracing the whole thing with open arms instead of freaking the hell out like I'd probably have done.
Zac might not have had any direction in his life before this, but I don't doubt for a second that he's going to make an excellent father.
Carefully, because I'm still not sure I'll make it out of this deathtrap alive, we make our way back outside. We sit down on the porch steps again, mostly because they actually seem cleaner than anything inside that house.
“So what do you think?” he wants to know.
“Honestly, I think it's gonna take a lot of hard damned work, but you're right – it'll be worth it in the end,” I admit. “This is a pretty great location.”
“I know. The elementary school is only ten minutes from here and the park isn't too far either.”
I raise my brow, impressed that he's already thinking so far ahead.
His phone chirps, and his shoulders slump as he reads the text. All the excitement that had been building rushes out of him in a long sigh.
“Hailee?” I guess.
He nods. “She's pissed I've been gone so long. Said Mom is hovering and driving her crazy.”
“You mind if I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Do you love her?”
Zac's fingers tighten around the phone, and his other hand pushes the floppy dark hair away from his face. Like Blair, Ila and Lance, his hair is a brown so dark it's almost black, whereas Jemma and I have always had slightly lighter hair. It takes him almost a minute before he can even look at me, let alone form a reply. “She's carrying my baby, man.”
“Not what I asked. You can still love the baby without loving her.”
He heaves out a pained huff, rolling his head back and staring up at the top of the porch. “I thought I did. We had so much fun back in college, and then we went traveling and it was okay, but we were together all the time and. . .I don't know, it was harder. Things just kept getting shittier and shittier until I started to think it might be best to take a break. I was gonna talk to her about it, maybe see if she wanted to travel separately for a while, with other friends or something. . .”
I had no idea about any of this. As far as I'd known, Zac had been just as wrapped around her finger as he'd always been. That's the thing about my brother, he's such a laid back guy that he doesn't like to get into it with people about his problems. “And then you guys found out she was pregnant.”
“Yup.”
“Any chance she did it on purpose? To stop you from breaking up with her? Maybe she knew what you'd been thinking.”
“You kidding me? You saw her, right? She's fucking furious about this, hasn't forgiven me since we found out. She thinks I did it on purpose.”
I can't deny that. Her announcement at Christmas hadn't exactly been one of an excited pregnant mother. “Zac, just 'cause you're having this kid together, doesn't mean you have to stay together. You know that, right?”
Slipping his cell back into his pocket, he shakes his head slowly. “I want this baby to have a stable home.”
Instantly I know then that he's thinking about Blair and the way she grew up – moving from city to city, being left alone for days at a time while her bitch of a mother chased after her next fix, having to fend for herself, scared, hungry. . .alone. We missed out on so much of her life, yet those missing years, they haunt us all. “It doesn't have to be like it was with her,” I object. “Kids with separated parents can have stable homes too, and most single parents aren't like Blair's mom. Besides, this is a completely different situation. Blair had no one else back then, and this kid already has so many people in its life it's not gonna know what to do with them. We're all here for you, dude.”
“I'm not leaving her,” he says adamantly. “Things'll get better.” And even though I don't think he really believes that, I know he's stubborn enough that he'll stick by Hailee no matter what. He's a good guy, a really good guy. Much better than me. I drop the issue, because pushing it will only lead to an argument between us and that's the last thing he needs right now.
“So I'm thinking about joining the police force,” he tells me, and I let him have the obvious subject change.
I grin. “You going to the police academy, little bro?”
“You know chicks dig a guy in uniform.” He smirks, and for a moment he's the old Zac again. “I always thought it's what I'd end up doing one day.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. Don't tell Mom yet, though. You know she'll freak the hell out.”
“True.”
“So hey, you think you might wanna lend me a hand here with the house? It's gonna be a lot of work, I'll need all the help I can get.”
“You need me to carry all the heavy stuff? Not surprised with those little girl arms.”
“Screw you, jerk. I could take you down.”
I punch him in the shoulder. “You know I'll help, asshole.” And that was basically me expressing my brotherly love for him, so he'd better appreciate it.
A guy from the house next door comes out then, waving Zac over on the way to his car. “That's Thad. He knows a guy who can help me with the electrics. Be right back.”
As he jogs away I get a video message from Ivy, and I don't waste any time opening it up. Since we've started sleeping together, the messages have gotten a whole lot dirtier between us.
“So I'm thinking I should be mad at you right now, you interfering pig,” she says to the camera, but there's a mischievous sparkle in her eyes so I know she's not really pissed at me for getting Blair and Jemma to trick her into going to that fabric store she used to love so much. “But I'm totally not – it was just what I needed, going back to that place again. In fact, I've even stopped off some place else to get you a special gift to say thank you. . .” She turns the camera to face the mirror in the dressing room sh
e's in for a moment, and as she poses, I get a quick glimpse of the sexiest fucking lingerie I've ever seen. Black and white lace, with a little pink bow holding it together at her cleavage – my new favorite place.
“Fuck,” I mumble to myself as blood immediately rushes to my groin. What the hell is wrong with me? I mean, I've seen women in less more times than I can count, yet when it comes to Ivy. . .it just blows my mind. She blows my mind.
“And yes,” she continues. “it's mostly see through.” Blowing a kiss into the camera, she winks. “See you at home.”
So obviously I need to get home right the hell now so I can jump her the second she gets through that door.
“What's up with you?” Zac asks, interrupting my thoughts as he rejoins me on the porch steps. I shut the video off quickly, because no one gets to see that body but me. “Haven't seen you smile that wide in a long time. Not even with Bambi the bitch.”
“She wasn't a bitch,” I protest. “And nothing's up.”
“Was that a vid from Ivy?”
“How'd you guess?”
He gives me a knowing, searching look. It makes me want to squirm uncomfortably, like he's seeing things even I can't see. “She's the only one you ever smile like that for, that's all.”
“Whatever, man.” I shrug his words off, because that kind of talk, it makes more of a deal out of this thing between her and me than it needs to be. And that's sure as hell the last thing I want.
Chapter 14
Ivy
“Ivy?” Dr. Ormand calls as he steps out of his office.
I glance up from the computer – because for once I'm actually working – and raise a questioning eyebrow when he approaches. There are a couple of people in the waiting room, but they barely spare him a glance as he sits down on the edge of my desk. “What's up?”
He looks down at me with barely concealed excitement. Dread immediately fills me, because an excited Dr. Ormand just can't be a good thing. “I wanted to talk to you about your position here,” he tells me in a low voice so that the patients don't hear.
Oh boy. Perhaps he's finally firing me. Honestly, I wouldn't blame the guy. “Okay?”
He inches closer. “As you know, your job here so far has been that of a temporary position because you weren't sure how long you'd be staying in town. But you've been back for a few months now, and I think you fit in well here. Don't you?”
“Um.”
“I was hoping you'd consider becoming more of a permanent fixture here? There'd be a small increase in salary, of course, and we can work out a contract for you.”
My mouth drops open as I stare at him, because this is just not what I was expecting him to say. “You want me to work here. . .permanently?”
He reaches out to squeeze my shoulder, and I'm in so much shock that I don't even flinch at his touch. “We're a dream team, right? Dell and Ivy, together forever.”
Shock. Horror. Dread. Nausea.
Oh dear God.
+++
When Nash gets home from work I'm already curled up in a ball on the sofa. A ratty old t-shirt of his that I stole when we were eighteen swamps me, and my hair is piled haphazardly up on my head in the most unattractive of ways. He freezes at the sight of me, his eyes going from me to the can of whipped cream in my hand to How to Train Your Dragon playing on TV. His eyebrows disappear into his hairline as he smirks at what a mess I am.
I pout at him. “Don't judge me. Being a slob is my comfort zone.”
Sitting down next to me, he hoists my bare feet over his lap and begins to massage my ankles because he knows how much I like that. My eyes close involuntarily – he really does know how to work those fingers. “What happened?”
My eyes flicker back open. “Space Head offered me a full time job. He wants me to work there forever. And ever. And ever and ever and ever. Oh God.” I squirt cream into my mouth. This stuff is like crack to me.
Nash winces on my behalf, knowing me well enough to know that the idea of working as a receptionist for the rest of my life, especially for Dr. Ormand, is more than enough to wigg me the hell out. I just can't. Dr. Ormand and I cannot grow old together. It's just wrong.
I take another hit of cream at the mere thought of it.
His hand squeezes my calf comfortingly. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. I faked cramps so he panicked and sent me home. You men are stupid easy to manipulate, by the way.”
“So you've just been sat here ever since you got home, watching cartoons and eating cream?”
“I said don't judge me!”
Laughing at my pitifulness, he wraps his fingers around my ankles; his hands are so large that they easily encircle them with room to spare. With no warning, he yanks me so that I slide down the sofa onto my back and the t-shirt rides up, exposing my very unsexy Cookie Monster panties and my abdomen. He crawls over me and flops down on top of my body, keeping most of his weight on his elbows but still resting on me enough that I can feel every heated inch of him. Snatching the can out of my hands, he shakes it and says, “Almost empty. That's a shame.”
“Why?”
“Lot of fun things you can do with whipped cream.” He shoots me a filthy grin.
“Oh,” I utter as ideas roll through my head.
He throws the can aside and kisses me. My top lip first, then my bottom lip. His lips are firm yet soft, and his tongue tastes like coffee as it meets mine. His kisses melt me. I could literally just lay here all day on this sofa and make out with him like we're a couple of horny teenagers.
“Want me to make you feel better?” he murmurs into my mouth, not even waiting on me to answer before sliding his hands under the t-shirt to cup my breasts. “Hey, no bra. I love it when you don't wear a bra. Make it easier for me to-” He pauses. “This my t-shirt?”
“Maybe.”
Grinning, his thumbs brush over my nipples just once before he sits up to whip off his shirt and tie. “Wondered where that went, you little thief.”
“Can't have it back. Squatters' rights.”
“Don't want it back. It looks so much hotter on you.” Leaning down, he presses his lips against my ribs in a way that makes me squirm, then kisses a trail down my stomach. With a devious smile he nips at me over my panties, and I let out a little mewl and buck up into his face as a bolt of tingling heat shoots through me. “Eager, aren't we?”
“Screw you, Peeters.”
“Oh, you will. In a while.” I lift my hips as he slides my panties down my legs to toss them aside. Taking one of my ankles, he throws it over his shoulder, opening me up to him in the most intimate of ways. At one point this may have embarrassed me, but it's so hard to be anything other than incredibly turned on when he's looking down like he wants to devour every inch of me. “You have no idea how fucking hot you are.”
I'm about to point out the sloppy hair and the giant t-shirt and that I probably couldn't get any uglier if I tried, but then he distracts me to the point of madness by burying his face between my legs.
“Ohh,” I gasp as he gets to work. Waves of pleasure infuse my body. I've never had to tell Nash how I like it, he just knows. He knows my body just like he knows me. The heel of my foot digs in to his shoulder blades as his tongue, so freaking hot, licks insistently at my very center My other foot presses into the sofa to push up my back, which arches uncontrollably, but one of his hands presses down on my stomach, pinning me down at he continues to lap at me. My hands claw at his hair, holding him against me, or just holding on for dear life in case I float away in a bubble of sheer bliss. “Oh my God!”
He moans into me, like this is driving him as wild as it's driving me, and the vibrations make my whole body shiver.
“What do you want, Ivy?” he demands roughly, taking his mouth away to stare up at me. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want. . .” How am I supposed to answer that? How am I even supposed to be able to form words right now? Hell, I don't know what I want. I just want this. I want him. I need him. �
�I want. . . I need. . .more. I need more, Nash!”
“Like this?” As his tongue begins its incredible assault again, he slips a finger inside me. It pumps in and out, hard and fast, because he knows I like it better when he's not gentle.
“Yes, like that. Please. . .” I beg, my thighs squeezing his head as I lose control of the muscles in my legs. Sensing exactly what I need from him, he puts in another finger and increases the pace. His muscular shoulders rock back and forth as he moves with my body.
“Shit,” I cry desperately, my back lifting clear off the sofa as a wave of new sensations overwhelm me. He wraps his free arm around my hips, pulling me more firmly against his mouth. “Nash!”
Another finger goes in and I think I forget how to breathe. “Fuck, you're so sweet. So wet,” he says hoarsely, lifting his head. “Is that me, Ivy? Am I making you wet?”
“Yes. . .” His fingers thrust in and out. Hard. Fast. Deep. My body flames. I squirm as I try and fail to control the heat building within me. “Nash. . .”
“You want me to make you come, baby? Is that what you want?” His voice is low and gravelly, barely able to contain his lust.
Unable to speak, I nod my head up and down, clutching at the sofa with my fists.
His tongue finds me again, moving against me in slow, languid strokes, in stark contrast to his thrusting fingers. It becomes too much. My whole body tenses and I let out a gasp. Air whooshes out of my mouth as I explode so hard that I can't even see.
“Oh God,” I murmur, blinking as the black fades from my eyes. “OhGodohGodohGod.”
His fingers slow before pulling out of me, and I fall back with a satisfied sigh. Looking very pleased with himself, Nash climbs up my body and kisses me slowly, leisurely. I welcome his weight on my chest, wrapping my arms around his waist to hold him close. “Was that good?” he teases, full on knowing how hard I just came.