Collide (a Collision novella)

by L. B. Dunbar

  Epilogue

  Two and a half years later

  GAGE

  “Watch where you’re going.” The sweetness in her voice makes me smile before I even see her. I know who she’s speaking to, and I can already imagine her following after one child while holding the other.

  Ava Katherine Everly graced this world in June of that summer. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a stubborn personality, no one would suspect she wasn’t truly mine. Ivy graduated with her degree from Pacific in music therapy but hasn’t used it yet. I know it’s in the back of her mind that someday she will, but not twelve months after baby one arrived, she was pregnant with baby two. Mine. One hundred percent mine.

  Emaline Rose Everly was born twenty-two months after her sister.

  “Sorry about that,” I hear Ivy say in the hallway. I stand from the couch where I’ve been waiting, warming up before the show. Almost four years from my first encounter with Ivy, we’re playing the Theatre ourselves—as the headliners instead of the warm-up band. Tommy Carrigan has done wonders for us, and I’m eternally grateful, but not half as grateful as the other thing he’s given me. His niece.

  I peek into the narrow hall at my sweet toddler walking at a fast pace like she owns the tile beneath her. Ivy stopped to apologize to a roadie, no doubt one who Ava walked into. She jiggles Emaline against her shoulder.

  “Daddy,” Ava calls when she sees me and runs toward me. I crouch down, preparing for the hug I love only second to my wife.

  “Ava girl,” I cry out until she’s against my chest, and I scoop her up. She curls around my neck for a second before pulling back to look at me. I swear she sees me with my eyes, which isn’t possible, but they’re as deep, dark, and soulful. I fear that she’ll be sad like he was. But then she smiles at me as she gives my longish hair a tug, and my worries disappear. She’ll know everything when she’s older. Ivy and I agree we’ll tell Ava the truth when she’s ready, but we don’t need the press or anyone unimportant knowing the truth. I loved Cash, and I’m honoring his memory. I might not be her biological father, but I’m her dad.

  “Hey, baby,” Ivy says as she approaches me, and I lean forward to kiss her. It isn’t the consuming kiss I normally draw from her, but I still haven’t mastered keeping it short and sweet. Ava giggles at my ear and Emaline has a hold of my hair, so when I pull back from Ivy, I only get so far. I wiggle a finger into her grasp.

  “Did you get some sleep?” Ivy isn’t sleeping well with two babies, and she’s refusing to hire a nanny. Her first argument wasn’t justified, and we fought about it.

  “I’m not hiring some cute young thing to work for us who will only fall in love with you and seduce you.” I had a good snorting laugh at that comment until I saw she was serious.

  “I’d be out of my mind to cheat on you. Crazy,” I said, making the international sign by circling a finger around my ear.

  “Never call a pregnant woman crazy,” she said, and that was how she announced Emaline.

  I told her we could hire someone who didn’t like guys. Someone three times my age. Someone who wasn’t my type, but when her retort was to ask if we could hire a Ryan Reynolds look-alike, the discussion ended. I didn’t think she was humorous.

  The real reason came forward later.

  “I don’t want my children raised by nannies and tutors. I want as normal as I can for them.” Going on the road isn’t normal, and I know one day it will have to end as Ivy is adamant that Ava, Emaline, and any other Everly who comes along go to a physical school.

  Ivy shakes her head in response to sleep, and I sigh. A tired momma makes sexy time difficult, but we make it work as best as we can. Ava wiggles to slip from my arms and helps herself to the backstage room where Jared and Petty hang out. Emaline snuggles into Ivy.

  “Ava Bava,” Jared says behind us.

  “Cava Dava,” Ava replies. Jared’s teaching her the alphabet with her name. I’m confused by it all. Ivy circles around me and enters the room. Surprisingly, Petty is the baby magnet, and the second he sees Emaline, he wiggles his hands for her.

  “Gimme. Gimme,” he says, almost snatching Emaline from Ivy’s arms.

  “How much time do you have?” Ivy asks, knowing the show begins at six but we don’t go on until later. I tilt my head at my wife. She knows the timing of things, so it’s strange of her to ask. She doesn’t look at me as she addresses Ava.

  “Ava, honey, show Uncle Jared how you can color.” Then she looks over at Petty. “You good with her for a few minutes?”

  Petty coos against Emaline’s head, kissing her soft hair.

  “Ah, no,” Jared says as Ivy steps backward to the hallway and crooks a finger at me.

  “Guys, I’ll be back in a bit,” I say without taking my eyes off my wife.

  “Gage,” Jared warns, but I ignore him, following the finger of Ivy. I’ve hardly stepped into the hallway when I find her pressed against the wall just outside the door. She reaches for my T-shirt and tugs me to her. My mouth covers hers, fingers delving into her hair as I breathe her in like air. Kissing her hasn’t grown old in the years that have passed. If anything, as the kisses had to slow because of children, I relish them more when they happen.

  “Take me to the closet,” she mutters against my mouth.

  “Gorgeous, here?” I question, pulling back, but she follows me like a magnet, reattaching her lips to mine. We take a few steps connected to each other until we find an unlocked door. Falling inside, she locks it at her back, and then we stare at one another. It’s almost too dark to see each other.

  “Do we really have time for this?” I tease. Her breathing is already ragged, and her chest heaves. My fingers twitch to feel the breasts under her shirt, and my dick stands at attention. She does this to me.

  “I love you,” she says, and those are the only words I need. I’m on her again, unsnapping her jeans and tugging up her shirt. My belt comes undone, and she releases me from my pants. We’re mouth on skin and fingers on body parts. She kicks off her shoes, and I tug down her jeans, freeing one leg so she can wrap them around me. My jeans come below my hips, and I thrust into her with her back at the door.

  We pause, stealing a second to breathe each other in. We both want it fast and hard, but Ivy knows I want to savor each moment. We kiss, tongues twirling, lips sucking as we stand connected for a moment.

  “I love you,” I tell her, our lips still touching. “This is how it began for me.”

  She pulls back, searching my face in the dark closet.

  “I don’t think you’ve ever told me that.” She pushes back my hair, curling it over my ear. I shrug. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  I shake my head. Our apologizes have already been said. There’s nothing to forgive. Life got in the way until we met again.

  “I’m not,” I lie. “We came together when you were ready.”

  She nods, knowing I’m lying. “We collide.”

  I smile at her analogy, and we finish the act we started, knowing colliding is better when you attach two separate stars. We work better together. Her and me.

  You and I collide…do-do-do-do…

  + + +

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  Keep in touch with L.B. Dunbar

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  Here’s a nibble of After Care.

  Want to know more about the sexy silver fox band manager, Uncle Tommy…(his story started it all).

  When a breast cancer survivor meets a sexy silver fox, love might be just what the doctor ordered.

  1

  The Introduction

  “Is that your daughter?” A pretty blonde sat next to me on the edge of the pool. I fidgeted with the scarf wrapped around my head and smiled.

  “Yes.” The beautiful brunette was mine, and even though she was eighteen, she was child-like in spirit, laughing as two little girls splashed her. Watching the younger two frolic in the water reminded me of my own children at that age. Life was much different then.

  “Both yours?” I asked, shifting only my eyes to the twenty-something woman, adjusting the scarf once again on my head, waiting for her to notice it. There wasn’t a way to miss it. The thin material made no sense in the heat of the Hawaiian sun, but the traditional paisley patterned bandana in bright yellow made sense to someone like me. I was a breast cancer survivor. If you didn’t know, the head wrap gave it away.

  She nodded in response to me and we remained silent a moment.

  My eyes closed as I faced the brilliant blue sky, soaking up the sunshine, a welcome reprieve from the frigid temps we left behind in Chicago. I desperately needed this vacation. Party of three, please. I looked forward to the family time with my grown children. We had much to celebrate, the doctors told me. I smiled despite myself as I looked back at the two babes dousing my daughter.

  “She’s good with kids,” the young woman remarked, and I stared off at my own child on the verge of womanhood. She’d make a great mother one day. Tears prickled my eyes. I didn’t want to think dark thoughts, but they often crept in. Silently, I hoped I’d get to see the day she mothered a child of her own.

  “Cannonball.” A loud male screech erupted from my other baby—more a child than a man at the age of twenty-two. He catapulted into the huge, oddly shaped pool, covering his sister in a tidal wave of water, and drowning the two little girls.

  “Caleb,” I shouted but the mother next to me laughed. A man with dark, chin length hair caught one of her daughters under the arms, hoisting her upward from the vigorous aftershock of my son’s jump. Masie held the other. Tiny arms wrapped around my daughter’s neck, holding tight like a second skin. Laughter surrounded all of them.

  “That’s Ava,” the woman pointed to the dark-haired one matching her apparent father. “She’s six. And the blonde, choking your daughter is Emaline. She’s four.”

  My eyes drifted back to the collection of young people but froze on the man with rock star looks. Deep set eyes, a thin scrap of scruff around his jaw, and the midnight color of his wet hair, added to what I imagined was a brooding look on an average day. Smiling at his child made all the difference in his appearance.

  “You can ask,” the woman said. “Yes, it’s him.”

  I turned to her, fully facing her equally striking appearance. Softer than his, her face held a playful look in her blue eyes. Puffy, pink lips conjured images of them kissing each other passionately. Passionate enough to create two small daughters. I sighed. It had been a long time since someone kissed me like that. Even the man who created two children with me had fallen out of practice years before everything happened.

  “He’s Gage Everly.”

  I blinked at her, shaking my head in confusion. “I’m sorry. Should I know him? Do I know you?” My eyes opened wider, a tingle of fear that somehow, I didn’t recognize him when it should be obvious. Not only had the cancer taken my hair, it had taken my memory, I chuckled, knowing that couldn’t possibly be true.

  “Gage Everly, lead singer of Collison?” Her brow rose in question, as if I should recognize him or the name of the band.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said again, cursing the terrible habit I had of apologizing for everything. I’m sorry, I wasn’t younger. I’m sorry, you no longer love me. I’m sorry, I got cancer. “I don’t…” My head shook to acknowledge I didn’t recognize him.

  She chuckled softly, clapped a hand, and covered her cheeks. “Oh my, how refreshing.” Her blue eyes beamed brighter than the sky overhead.

  “I think it’s just because I’m old,” I weakly smiled, reaching for the bandana once again. My hair had moved from the stages of peach-fuzz to crazy C-shapes and kinky, curly Qs, going in all directions. I didn’t need the material covering my head, but sometimes, I felt safer wearing it. My hair color hadn’t returned to my natural fading brown, but a mixture of white and dirty blonde.

  You can dye it whatever color you want when approved, Nurse Marjorie had told me. Purple’s very popular for people your age. Her sweet, innocent voice intended to encourage me. Instead, I wanted to erase the smirk on her lips.

  Your age. I was forty-three. I should have been in the prime of my life. Where was that sexual libido return everyone promised me would happen? Oh, right, it walked out the door with a younger model—blonde, thin, and cancer-free under her skin.

  The new hair combination caused conflicting emotions. On one hand, the brilliant color reminded me of my growing age. On the other hand, the change from lackluster to vibrant aided to the new personae I wanted to adapt. It was time for a change.

  “Oh.” My companion’s eyes opened wide, “Oh, I wasn’t implying…I mean…It’s just that…” Her hands waved in front of her as she swung her thin body toward me. “It’s just everywhere we go people know it’s him. It’s nice to meet someone who doesn’t recognize Gage.”

  I smiled. I didn’t know how to respond. A child squealed, and I turned my attention to the pool, noting my son in a deep conversation with her husband. Masie still held one girl while the other tried to climb her father. Caleb wanted to be a guitarist when he was younger. It was his life’s ambition, until he discovered baseball. The sport became my ex’s dream for our son. Watching Caleb, his body straightened, his awe trained on the man before him—someone I didn’t recognize, but surely Caleb did.

  A gruff voice behind us bellowed, “Please step away from him.”

  My body twisted to face the sound, rich in baritone, tough as a boulder, and rugged like gravel under bare feet. I shivered despite the heat. Two thick arms crossed a midnight colored T-shirt stretched over the barrel chest of an older man, rightfully in his forties with silvery hair curling at his neck and salt-and-pepper facial scruff. He wore black pants, balancing himself with a wide stance of thick legs. Regardless of tinted aviators, the weight of his eyes bored into me. Rock star sprang to my mind.

  “It’s okay, Uncle Tommy,” the woman said. “They’re only talking.”

  “Well, we all know where talking can lead.” His knuckles met his neck and he scratched at the hint of hair under his jaw. The sound traveled to me, and a thrill tickled over my sun-h
eated shoulders. His pouty lips crooked in one corner as I sensed him teasing the girl. It was obvious he knew her secrets. “But seriously, he’s on vacation. He doesn’t need a groupie and some wannabe—”

  “Excuse me?” I interjected, attempting to make my voice as knife sharp as his but failing miserably as he removed the aviators. Two deep set circles of coal returned his focus on me and the will to breathe escaped me. He stole my breath, literally, as he’d noticed the scarf. There was no way he couldn’t, but he kept his eyes pinned to mine.

  Out of respect, I told myself.

  To hold me prisoner, my mind whispered.

  Take me, I foolishly screamed, and then the deepest blush I’ve ever experienced crawled over my skin, prickly, tickly, tingly like the tiny tap of a million feet. I shivered again. The motion snapped his attention and he turned away.

  “Tommy, this is…” the young mother paused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Edie,” I said, holding out my hand while the other fingers found security in touching the fabric just above my ear. “Edie Williams.”

  “This is Tommy Carrigan. He’s the band’s manager.” She turned to look up at him over her shoulder, her smile affectionate. “He’s a giant teddy bear when he isn’t acting like a grumpy eagle.” She pouted as she spun back to me.

  “Don’t be ruining my reputation before I make an impression, sweetheart,” he teased with a hint of Southern drawl, his eyes redirected to the pool but his shoulders loosened a little. Oh, he’d made an impression all right. A deep one, right between my thighs just from the sound of his voice.

  Then I noticed my hand still lingering in the air, waiting for him to reach out and shake mine. When he didn’t, I awkwardly lowered it, fussing with my scarf one more time.

  “Don’t mind him,” the woman said. “By the way, I’m Ivy. Ivy Everly, and I’m happy to meet you.”

  Her smile put me at ease. For some reason, I was just as pleased to meet her.