by Ivy Fox
“Lead the way, sweetheart, and pay Cam no mind, we sure don’t.” Michael laughs, walking past them both, and Hope runs up the porch steps before he’s able to open the screen door, too eager to show us whatever it is that she’s gotten up her sleeve.
When we three enter our humble abode, we are speechless. This is not our house. Well, at least not the same house we left her with. This is a new and improved home, with some top-of-the-line shit, and I’m just in the kitchen. Everything looks sleek, modern, and alive with energy, much like the girl who is looking at us, jumping from one foot to the other waiting for our response.
“Holy shit! You did the living room, too?!” Cam belts and I walk rather quickly for a guy my size to see what he’s on about, and what I encounter is something out of a fucking home-decor magazine. The first thing that pops out is the color. Long gone are the flowery curtains and wallpaper, which yelled ‘old lady living with twelve cats.’ In its place is a prismatic living room that looks like a family room where you can relax and still look manly doing it. But what slices my insides is the painting on the wall. How this girl went above and beyond, but still added little touches where we could identify ourselves with it. Those wings with traces of red, gold, and orange—the same colors you would find in the sun’s rays, or the burning fire of an avenging angel—represents us so well. It’s as if she is connected to our inner thoughts, knows us inside out, without even a word to guide her.
“I don’t know what to say,” Michael states, obviously speechless, and Cam hasn’t said a thing at all, which really means what she’s done means more to him than she will ever know.
“There’s nothing to say,” she answers, happiness coating her very presence, and the thing is, I firmly believe she’s just as happy in being able to give this to us as she is that we are all back home.
“How did you do this?” Michael continues.
“Oh, a woman has her ways. You can’t know all my secrets, Michael,” she teases.
“I wish I did,” he mumbles under his breath, but thankfully she doesn’t hear his careless remark.
“I wasn’t sure if you guys would be able to make it in time for dinner or not, so I didn’t make anything,” she adds, and it’s the first time I see disappointment in her eyes.
“And since when were you nominated the designated cook of the house?” Michael’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead. “Guys, get cleaned up, we got to take our girl to a fancy dinner. It’s the least we can do for spoiling our sorry asses rotten the way she does,” Michael orders, and Cam wakes up at this.
“Fuck, yeah! Love, we are gonna paint the town red tonight! Put on your best party dress, darling, and some sensible shoes, cause we’re going dancing!”
“Dancing? Really? Aren’t you guys tired?” she asks, taking our dirty clothes from a hard ride as proof of how dancing should be the last thing on our minds, but at the slight mention of it, her excitement was too palpable not to take notice.
Michael leans into her, puts his finger under her chin, and looks deep into her eyes. “None of us will ever be too tired to show you a good time,” he says, making her cheeks flush to that delicious color again. My cock twitches of its own accord and I wish the fucker would stop doing that every time she flushes that pretty red shade. It’s probably because, in my head, I wonder if she would turn that lovely hue under me. Would she go red all over once I’m inside her, or bite her lower lip like she is now when I rut deep down into her core? Yeah, maybe that’s why my cock gets hard when she blushes.
“Okay then, if you’re sure,” she shrugs, conceding to the idea.
“We’re sure,” Michael affirms, and she turns around and walks down the hall into her room.
Once I know she won’t be able to hear us, I make sure to grab Cam’s and Michael’s attention.
“You know this shit must have cost her a fortune, right?” I say, mentioning the obvious.
“I figure as much,” Michael chimes in, stroking his beard, giving the living room another once-over.
“A fortune she doesn’t have. I know George is a fair man, but I doubt he’s paying her much.”
“Think he might have had something to do with the kitchen, though,” Cam adds. “That handiwork has his boys’ fingerprints all over it. Mighty fine craftsmanship.”
“Still, this…” I wave to the living room, “wasn’t cheap.”
“Hmm,” Michael murmurs at my side, deep in thought.
“What are we going to do about it?” I ask anxiously, not feeling one bit okay that our little bird worked herself to the bone to give us this surprise. I love her kind heart, but like hell do I want her to spend a dime on me when she should be spending it on herself and the baby to come.
“I’ll make some inquiries in town, figure out where she got the stuff. If there is any way they can reimburse her the money. If they say no, well then I’ll just persuade them to reconsider,” Michael smirks with a gleam in his eye, confirming our girl will get every last red cent back.
“Good. But that’s not enough. We need to do something for her,” I tell them, my conviction shining through.
“Like what?” Cam asks, already jumping on the balls of his feet, eager to surprise little bird with any gift she might desire.
“Use your head, Cam? What does Hope need?” Michael interjects, insulted Cam isn’t figuring it out.
“Baby stuff!” he whisper-yells.
“Damn right. Not only baby stuff. Baby is going to need a room, too,” Michael says, pleased with where our conversation is heading.
“But what about the thing?” Cam queries.
“What thing?” I ask, and now he’s the one looking at both Michael and me like we’ve lost a marble or two.
“The thing with the detective, assholes,” he grunts out, defeated like it’s a bad omen even mentioning such a thing in our new living room.
Oh.
“Are we going to do a baby room for someone who’s going to leave us in a few days?” Cam remarks, looking at his feet, his words coated in regret.
“I don’t know, are we?” Michael asks, crossing his arms and looking at both of us and our sour expressions like we’re morons. I stand up straighter and place my hand on Cam’s shoulder. I see the same answer shining through him too.
Yeah.
Yeah, we are.
The next day, I’m surprised to see Hope in the kitchen waiting for me. Apparently, last night amongst all the hoopla, I’d promised to wake up bright and early so we could get some training done. Sun’s been up for a while, so I kick myself, not knowing how long she’s been sitting at this table, waiting on me to get my ass out of bed. But last night, acting on Cam’s idea of dancing the night away to show our girl a good time, took more out of me than I expected. Especially after hours of riding on the back of my bike. Never thought I’d be happier to see my bed than I was last night. Even though I’m aching in places a man has no business aching, I take her under the hatch and fulfill her desire, even if it’s a bit later than promised. First thing I see when we get there is that my little bird has been practicing. Her aim is better, shooting almost every bullet within the small circle on the paper-framed silhouette ten feet away. But seeing her throw a star, well… there’s some real magic right there. Hawk-eyed aim with this weapon in her hand. It’s uncanny, the precision which she is able to hit her mark with every time. Give this woman a knife, and I fear for my sanity. Might drop to a knee right here and confess things better kept hidden inside my heart for now.
As always, once we finish up with practice, Hope looks like she’s just won a battle and wants to shout her victory out from every rooftop she can find. I lead her to the porch steps and sit down, patting the empty space beside me, hoping she takes the hint and keeps me company just a little bit longer. I don’t want to let her go just yet.
“You do alright while we were gone? Didn’t do much talking yesterday. Too busy celebrating, I guess,” I start mumbling incoherently, grabbing two water bottles from the cooler w
e placed earlier outside and handing her one.
“That’s a way to put it. Thought you guys were going to buy every person a drink last night. You celebrate like that every time you come back from a run?” she replies after taking a long gulp to quench her thirst.
“No. We usually go to the clubhouse. Check in with the boys. See Uri and all,” I admit.
“But not last night,” she adds, her brow lifting inquisitively.
“No, not last night.” I take another sip and look out into the wooded solitude area that surrounds us.
“You haven’t answered my question, though. How did you fare here on your own?”
“How does it look like?” she asks, throwing her shoulder to the side, hinting to the renewed kitchen.
“Looks like you did good,” I grin proudly and get a wide grin from her. Those once-seldom smiles are coming through more often than I could have ever dreamed for.
“Maybe you don’t need us any longer, huh? You seem to do fine on your own,” I question, dreading her comeback.
“I’ve always known I would be fine on my own, Gabriel. Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy your company. You enjoy mine, don’t you?” she throws out at me, the same vulnerability in her question as mine.
“Yes, little bird, I do.”
“Good to know,” she says, turning her face away from me, but the soft blush I adore springs to life on her cheeks, double-crossing her intention to keep me clueless on how my small remark affected her.
“I learned some other things about myself, though, while you guys were away. You want to hear about them?” she asks me once she has regained some composure to face me again.
“You got your memory back?” I ask, tension building up my spine.
“No, nothing like that. Just some things I’m learning about myself,” she says almost shyly. It’s so endearing it melts the ice swirling around my heart, brought on by the thought of her memories resurfacing.
“Okay,” I mumble for her to continue.
“It’s going to sound silly, but just listen, okay?” I nod.
“Last week, there was a couple who came into George’s, tourists, I believe, just passing through, and they were talking in Italian. At first, I thought nothing of it and grabbed their order, but then Mabel asked me where I had learned Italian from. Apparently, they had made their order in Italian, and I had answered them in the same way. I wouldn’t even have realized it if Mabel didn’t pick up on it.”
“Hmm,” I mumble, not too happy if this is a good thing she’s come to realize or a bad premonition.
“I found out I like to run,” she continues, stopping my mind from where it’s headed, and keep its focus only on her words.
“One morning, I felt too antsy to keep still, and before I knew what I was doing, I was running like a wild woman through the woods. It was so liberating, Gabriel. I felt like I was flying and nothing could touch me.”
I smile at my little bird and how she so desperately wants to use her wings. I’d pluck them out of an Archangel itself to give them to her if I could.
“What else?” I press, wanting to keep her silky voice the only sound filling my ears right now.
“I don’t like kiwi. Hate the texture, and even the smell makes me sick. Aurora insists it could be a pregnancy thing. I doubt I’ll like it after the little guy comes out,” she replies, caressing her bump lovingly. My chest beats harder every time she so confidently says the little one is a boy as if she already feels his presence so clearly that there is no doubt in her mind.
“And?”
“I don’t like horror movies—and not because they’re scary, but mostly because they seem too unrealistic to me. I mean, if you’re going to split up when a madman is on the loose, then you’re just asking for your head to be chopped off.” She shrugs. I laugh at that.
“And don’t tell Cam, but I think I like his smutty little romance novels—and not just because of the sex, but also because they make normal, everyday scenes feel like more, somehow. Even a day at the park can be a whole sordid adventure, where heroes who don’t wear spandex can still exist in the world. Please don’t tell him I said that,” she begs.
“Secret’s safe with me, little bird.” I see her eyes beam at my nickname, and it’s too late for me to reprimand myself for my loose lips.
“I love waking up in the morning, and the first thing I hear is the chirping of the birds around this house, but it’s still not the sound I love best.”
“No?” I furrow my brows, and she shakes her head.
“Nothing beats the sound of a chopper coming into our driveway,” she confesses.
“You like it, huh?”
She nods her head and looks at our feet, so close they’re almost touching. My big booted feet shadowing her dainty toeless-sandaled ones. I see she’s painted her toenails a bold, bloody red. Even her feet want to give me a come-hither look. Tempting vixen.
“I never told you this, but I remember the first time I saw you. It was the first time I saw Michael, too. When I saw Michael, I knew he was there to save me. I didn’t know from what or from whom, but one look at him and I knew his purpose. But then I saw you, in the corner of the room watching me. And my first thought was heaven sent its angel to take me away. Finally, I can rest,” she whispers, bravery embedded in her bones as she faces me head on.
“You thought I was Death?” I ask, a part of me dying that little bird could ever look at me and see the Dark Angel himself to rob her from this earth.
“No, Gabriel. God, no,” she replies, moving closer to me, sensing my panic. Her small hands cup both my cheeks, and I am powerless to stop her.
“Gabriel, that is not it at all. One look at you and my soul knew exactly who you were. You were Life. My own angel breathing life back into me,” she whispers to me, and we’re so close, a simple breath away from each other, that it would be so easy just to dive into her warmth and get lost in her.
I fake ignorance instead, dislodging myself from her grip, even though the longing in her eyes only feeds my hunger to touch her lips with my own, but instead, I choose to touch her heart.
“Can I feel him?” I ask, my eyes straying to her belly. Cam couldn’t keep his hands off of her last night, and even Michael had his fill, but I’ve been starving myself. I want to feel the little life growing inside my precious little bird.
“You want to feel the baby?” she asks, a bit stunned, and it stings she would think I didn’t.
“If you’ll let me.”
“Of course, Gabriel. Of course, I’ll let you,” she says, immediately grabbing both my hands and leading me right to her center.
This is when I feel him. And my heart is suddenly split into pieces, and none of them belongs to me.
“He’s really in there, isn’t he? I mean, it’s faint and all, because you’re so small, but I feel him. I can’t wait until he starts kicking. I want to feel him bump against my palm like he’s communicating to me in Morse code, telling me his secret from inside the womb.”
“You’ve found your voice.” She smiles widely.
“Huh?” I utter, still too enthralled with the miracle in my hands.
“When you’re talking about him, you’re not thinking about what you want to say, you just say it. I like it better than when you think first, talk second.”
“Words shouldn’t be used lightly, Hope. They have power. They can be used to hurt and to heal. Thinking before you utter one shouldn’t be a bad thing,” I reply, wanting her to understand why I am the way I am.
“You’re right. But neither is talking from the heart. When you use your words with love guiding you, no wrong could ever come of it. You should use your heart more often, Gabriel. You have such a beautiful one. It’s a shame the world should miss out on it.”
“Hmm,” I mumble, still caressing her belly with no intention of letting this moment end any time soon, even if she is trying to get me to use my ticker in more ways than she has already.
“You called him a he,”
she says after a pause.
“Huh?”
“The baby. You referred to him as a boy. You think he’s a boy, too?” she asks, a dreamy look in her eyes as she places her hands over mine and we both continue to caress the unborn child within.
“I do,” I reply, giving her my own proud smile.
“How come?”
“If you believe it, then so do I.”
Chapter 22
Michael
I walk into the house, but I don’t see anyone home. I know Cam is on a run for Uri, and Gabriel said he wanted to go to the next town over to see if he could find us a decent baby room set, saying how the stuff they had in town was too girlie for his boy. Whatever that’s about. As long as the kid has a place to sleep at night, I doubt he’ll be too upset if it’s painted in pink, but that’s just me. I have the paper bag in my hand with the two gifts I had bought for his momma, and that’s who I really wanted to see here.
I search every room and nothing, until I hear music coming in from the window outside Hope’s room. Sure enough as I open it up, I see my girl dancing in the backyard as she takes the clothes off the line. It’s a hot mid-August afternoon, and the sun is still high up in the sky, but if the sun is burning her skin in that short flowery dress she has on, she doesn’t seem bothered by it one bit.
No, instead she dances from left to right, turning laundry duty into a fucking gorgeous piece of ballet. I swallow dry, feeling parched all of a sudden, but I know it’s not water my body craves. It will only be nourished when I get my mouth once again in between her thighs and lick her clean. All three of us have been stalling since we got back. Not one of us want to take the next step, just in case what I find out in the days to come is true. I mean, we’re already hurting, but if we taste her? If we take her truly and madly like we all want to, then learn our girl is not ours at all, that will be double the heartache. And we’re strong motherfuckers, but I doubt any of us will be able to overcome that type of wound.