by Teagan Kade
“Haven’t I?”
She glances down to my crotch. “Not in all areas.”
“Shall we hit the hay?”
She lets go of my hands. “Sure, you must be tired.”
I grab her ass and pull her forward. “Who said anything about sleeping?”
“My god, is there ever a time you are not horny?”
I smile and squeeze. “It’s not that I’m always horny. It’s just that you’re always sexy.”
We lie together on the bed, a soft rain drumming against the window. Wren has one leg over me, her sex, still warm, pressed against my thigh.
She traces her fingers over my tattoos.
“Do you think they’re ugly?” I ask. “Because I understand there’s a couple here that are far from impressionist masterpieces.”
A finger lingers on my arm, tracing circles around the design there. “No, they’re beautiful because they’re part of your story, your life. You wouldn’t be you without them.”
“Who would I be?”
She shrugs. “Your father, another ‘Yes, boss’ clone. Who can say?”
“And you prefer penniless criminals?”
The finger moves to my chest, dancing around a nipple. “I prefer a man who knows how to please me, in and out of the bedroom, body and mind.”
Her finger lifts.
I sit up, leaning forward.
She looks at my back, at the large tattoo that takes up most of it, a complex and intricate piece. She presses into the middle of it.”
“Huh,” she says. “I never noticed there’s a bird in the middle of this one.”
I turn my head, looking down my back as I did so many nights in that cold cell, looking at the only hope I had.
She looks closer at it. “Is it a phoenix?”
“No,” I laugh. “It’s quite real.”
I look deep into her eyes. “It’s a wren.”
Six Weeks Later
WREN
We’re in bed once more. I hate to leave it, to leave my man.
And he’s all yours.
The injury was a scare, but I know it’s not the end of the world, and it sure as hell won’t be the end of us. Carter will find a new purpose. He just needs time. We both do. I can think of no better place to figure it out than between these sheets, blissfully whittling the days away with him inside me, the pleasure infinite.
Talk like that and you’ll have to start watching out for dehydration soon.
He stirs, rolling over and running his hand up my breastbone. “Morning, beautiful.”
“Morning yourself.”
He starts to tweak a nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “You’re awake early?”
“I was thinking,” I tell him.
“About my monster cock?”
I roll my eyes. “About the fifty thousand, actually.”
He sits up on an elbow, his abs unfolding like the world’s hottest accordion. “If you’re thinking about blowing it all in Vegas…”
I shove him back down into the pillow. “Actually, I think I’m going to start my own charity.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I know enough behind the scenes to make it work. Some of my old contacts have even starting to call and message again now my image has been restored.”
“Thanks to my doing.”
“Hey, I was the one who did the interview.”
“And it worked, didn’t it?”
“It did. Matt Leroux really came through.” I slide myself over Carter, place him between my legs. “The reporters have stopped calling… for now. I think it’s safe to say we have our lives back. Even the Sheriff tipped his hat at me the other day.”
“I think he’s had a thing for you from the start. Probably explains why he considers me Satan incarnate.”
I moan out as I drop onto his length. “You are a naughty boy.”
He takes hold of my hips. “So you keep telling me.”
I stop, reaching down to hold his hands in place. “Do you think I can do it? Honestly?”
He lifts up, the side of my face cupped in his hand. “Baby, I know you can do it. It will be great.”
I push him back down. “Alright then, life coach, how about some motivation of a different kind?”
He grips my ass hard, pulling my cheeks apart. “My pleasure, little bird.”
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
CARTER
“Who would want to live in a city when you could have this?”
Wren and I are sitting together on the swing chair on the porch, Wren in about fifty layers of clothing given how cold it is out tonight, cold enough for a thick quilt of snow to cover everything in sight.
She burrows into my side, Zeus II asleep at her feet. “Would you move to the city, for me?”
“We’re moving to the city?”
“It’s a hypothetical question. Your coaching is going well. Sure, they’re not a major league team, but you’ve worked wonders with them so far, right?”
The last thing I ever imagined I’d be doing was coaching, but Wren’s right. So far it’s working out. Coach Williams even peppered my name to the NHL heavies. “I suppose, and you’ve just about got the charity up and running.”
Wren smiles. “I think I’m going to have to take on a staff member soon, to handle all the admin.”
“Wow, employees and all. You are moving up. Soon Star Bright’s going to be real sorry they let you go.”
“It’s not a competition. If I can help just one kid…”
I cup her face in my hand, will never get sick of her doe eyes, those lips. “I know, I know, and the answer is yes. I would move to the city for you. Hell, I’d move to fucking Antarctica if you wanted.”
“We’d have to live in an igloo.”
I brush my hand over her chest. “And share body warmth.”
There’s a flash on the horizon, a boom following. “Look,” I point. “They’re starting.”
Another firework from the local fair explodes into the sky, neon magenta and blue, the crack of it ringing through the woods.
I stand us up and move to the edge of the porch for a better view, Wren’s head falling on my shoulder. “It’s pretty.”
“It’s not exactly New Year’s Eve,” I reply, “but they put on a good show.”
The fireworks continue to explode and bloom in the sky, Zeus barking up a storm, the smoke drifting away to the south.
“I’m just going to duck inside,” I tell her. “I won’t be a moment.”
She wraps her arms around herself. “Sure.”
I head inside, keeping one eye on her through the kitchen window. Standing there lit by the kaleidoscopic bursts beyond, she is more than beautiful.
She’s an angel.
She’s my redemption.
The finale starts, reports firing up together, the sky awash with color, a rat-a-tat of sound echoing out.
Wren starts to turn around. “Carter, you missed it. That was actually prett—”
She freezes.
I’m down on one knee on the porch, the small box I’ve been hiding under the bed for the last three days hot in my hands. I’m not nervous. I’m not having second thoughts, because I know this is completely right, exactly how it should be.
“Carter?” she queries, her voice rising on the second syllable of my name.
I’ve rehearsed this for days. “Wren Banner,” I begin. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I missed my chance once, but I’m not going to miss it again. You are my world, my everything. I’m not saying being with me is going to be easy, but I know—no, I’m certain—that together we can achieve anything. You make me happier than I ever thought I could be, and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way.” I take a breath. “Wren, will you marry me?”
The last firework lights up the entire sky with a solid boom.
Wren has her hands over her mouth. She’s shaking, her eyes glassy. She looks down at the r
ing.
I hold it up higher so she can see. “It’s a real diamond, and those little rocks around it? They’re amethyst.”
“They’re purple.”
“Your favorite color.”
“How did you even afford this?”
I smile. “All those nights I said I was down at The Dirty Duck, I was actually putting in overtime at the rink.”
She shakes her head. “You got me.”
“Well?” I say. “I did ask you a question—the question.”
Zeus barks at my heels.
She clicks. “Oh, right. Yes!” she screams, running forward and bowling me over until she’s lying on top of me, the open ring box beside us and the snow that has swept on the porch melting through to my back, but I don’t care, because everything is perfect.
“What now?” asks Wren, fingertips playing with my lips, a question I recall her asking me almost a year ago. If what follows now is anything like that day…
I roll her over. “Now I satisfy my real addiction.”
“And what’s that?” she asks.
I smile. “You.”
Five Years Later
WREN
It’s cold out at the cabin, smaller than I remember.
I’m crouched in the doorway watching Carter.
He’s cutting wood by the new shed, bringing the axe high above the wood before driving it down. This whole insta-lumberjack mountain man thing is really turning me on. I’m starting to recall how this poor cabin became such a love nest to begin with.
“Momma!” cries Jax in front of me.
I bring my attention back to doing up the buttons on his sweater. “Sorry, buddy,” I smile. “Momma was watching Dada.”
Jacinta, Jax’s twin sister, points, shouting, “Dada!”
I finish with Jax and move onto her. “Yes, that’s your dada. Cute, isn’t he?”
The curled lip I get in return seem to suggest Jacinta has no idea what I’m talking about. “You’ll learn,” I tell her. “Something tells me both of you are going to be trouble in the romance department. Boy do I pity the hearts you’re going to break with those baby blues of yours.”
Twins—Who would have thunk that two years ago? I’d only been off the pill for a week before I fell pregnant. Yes, we may have been going at it like rabbits, and yes, Carter’s probably packing some serious super sperm, but when the doc said ‘You’ve won the lottery,’ I truly had no idea what he was on about. Since when do doctors run lotteries? I thought. Are we getting his services free today? Have I won a car?
No, just three months looking like a water tower, six hours of agony, and two of the most perfect, eye-poppingly perfect little people you’ve ever seen. Zeus the Second is as fond of them as we are, their own personal guard dog.
Truthfully, I was a little apprehensive about motherhood. What I’ve learned is, you just make do, each and every day. And they’re special, watching the twins grow and literally discover the world day by day. Carter can’t get enough of it. He’s super dad, always playing with the kids, reading to them (Mary Poppins at the moment, I wonder how that would have gone down in prison...), running, laughing.
I got my pigeon pair, and we’re busy. Of course we are. My Kids First Foundation now employs over fifty staff in five states, with even more expansion planned next year. The lives we’ve changed already number in the thousands, and I couldn’t have done it without Carter by my side, pushing me on, even when we were eating frozen meals from the bargain bin of the freezer, even when Carter offered to put his last money into setting me up. That’s just the kind of man he is—always looking out for everyone but himself.
But he’s had his own success in recent years. I think we both thought his hockey career was through, but after spending more time with David, I suggested Carter could take up coaching. He was reluctant at first, thought his criminal record would work against him, but it’s been quite the opposite. If anything, the whole ‘former NHL bad boy, now reformed’ thing has done wonders getting him through doors. He’s worked hard, moving from a minor league team in Vancouver to more recently taking on his latest appointment as head coach of the Toronto Maple Leafs.
We had to relocate, but his salary package was more than enough to buy us a beautiful, sun-lit four-bedroom not far from the Air Canada Center where the Leafs train. Besides, the cabin was getting kind of small considering our impending family explosion. Right there in the hospital we went from two to four in an instant. I cannot tell you how much something like that will change your life.
Thankfully, we’ve had a lot of support. After she split with Carter’s Dad, his mom relocated to Toronto to help out with babysitting duties. She looks after the twins on Friday nights, allowing us some much-needed Mommy and Daddy time—not that Carter ever misses an opportunity to sex me up. Showers in particular are no longer solely a cleaning ritual in our household. Hello, detachable shower head.
It hasn’t all been easy. Three years ago I was called to give evidence against David. It was brutal. The media attention started again. I felt like I was the one on trial, but Carter supported me through it all, made sure I had all the support I needed—emotional and physical. These days it’s almost as though David never existed, which is sad in a way. Sometimes I’ll catch Carter looking into the distance lost, thinking back to better times with his lost brother, perhaps doing his best to conjure the David he’d rather remember.
The trouble Carter had with the man providing him protection in prison never resurfaced again. Steve was able to talk to his contacts in the prison system and put a lid on it. It turned out this ‘Tommy’ was a snitch for the authorities. Word just happened to get out and next thing he was transferred up north. He was killed in a prison brawl shortly after, killed no doubt by one of the many inmates he’d been informing on. Steve’s kept me posted, but I don’t tell Carter about it anymore. In truth, I think he’s forgotten, happy to close that chapter of his life for good.
At first, Carter leased the cabin out to none other than Sherriff Lawson, but when the good sheriff found love and headed off to Reno, Carter simply couldn’t part with the place. I’m glad we didn’t sell it in the end. The kids need a place like this where Wi-Fi doesn’t exist, where you can simply be and let the world go.
Speaking of worldly, Dad’s busy trailing his latest target around Barbados. He drops in from time to time to catch up with us... In-between his many flings. Someone should write a screenplay about his life— ‘Ten Women In Ten Days’ or something. God help womankind when he hits seventy next year. At least Pfizer won’t be going out of business.
Thankfully, even with my ‘tiger stripes’ and extra love handles, Carter still doesn’t require anything, medicinal or otherwise, to get hard. He still looks at me like I’m the hottest girl in the world, and the luckiest.
And I am. I’ve got a job I love and care deeply for, but one that allows me the necessary flexibility to look after the twins. I have a beautiful home, even if it is Chaos Central, and I have Carter—my world, my sexy still-as-ripped-as-ever man. Seeing him with the twins fills my heart with such joy I seriously think I’m going to explode with happiness sometimes (A happygasm? Himax? Nah, sounds like a utility vehicle).
Jax comes tumbling down the cabin steps, Jacinta not far behind him now, the two of them absolutely inseparable. We got together with June and her twins for thanksgiving in New York, and boy, talk about a full-on affair. By the time the turkey came around there was a toddler food fight of such epic proportions I almost had to start using the salad spoon for a shield. Not that June cared. As for the ‘adult time’ Carter and I got up to in the guest bedroom later on... Let’s just say we may or may not have woken the entire household. June’s knowing smile at breakfast said it all.
Carter puts the axe down, wiping his brow with the hem of his shirt, and damn, that’s a sight I’ll never get sick of. I thought Carter may have eased up on the workouts when he picked up the coaching job with the Leafs, but he somehow looks more cut than ever. Y
ou could sharpen swords on those abs.
My libido certainly hasn’t shown any signs of slowing down. During my pregnancy I was nearly ravenous. I’m talking full-on ‘come to momma’ mode. I don’t think the poor guy had ever been sexed so much in his life, even if my blimp-like belly made things a little awkward. Thank god for doggy style.
Carter scoops the twins up, one in each arm, parading them around like royalty. The way they giggle, playing off each other, is so damn adorable I could happily melt into a puddle of mush. But it’s nothing compared to bed time, both of them tucked up with their snuggie blankets, arms akimbo, the world’s cutest stick ’em up.
As for a third, I think we’re both a little reluctant given I scored twins straight up. Two tiny Whites is more than enough for now. I think if I had four I’d have to outsource sleeping.
Sometimes Carter is quiet when he plays with the twins, and I know it’s during these times, stolen seconds between the whirlwind of life, that he thinks about his brother. Even now, Carter’s father refuses to believe that David was anything but a saint, but Carter has come to a certain peace with it.
From time to time Carter’s hockey buddies will drop around, even some of the guys he was inside with. He’s turned the Maple Leafs into a real family this season. They’re up against the Canucks next week, so I’m interested to see how that plays out, especially with Coach Williams at the helm still.
Carter walks past me smiling, holding the twins upside-down by their ankles squealing and wriggling with delight. “Make way!” he bellows. “Special delivery coming through.”
I watch him (okay, his ass) head inside and follow.
Carter puts the twins down, patting them on the bum. “Bath time, buddies. Go get ready.”
They run off, stumbling like intoxicated penguins.
I gasp when Carter takes me around the waist, pressing me up against the kitchen counter. “Do you think we have time for a quickie?”
I give him my ‘Seriously?’ expression. “I don’t think you know the meaning of ‘quick’.”