Page 53 of The Decoy

I lean my head back against the leather headrest and let out a long, exhausted, but completely happy sigh.

Brody glances over at me, his hand immediately reaching across the console to rest on my thigh, his thumb brushing in slow circles.

“You good?” he asks softly. “They didn’t overwhelm you, did they?”

“No,” I say, turning my head to look at his handsome face illuminated by the green glow of the dashboard lights. “They were amazing. Truly. The girls are planning a baby shower.”

Brody smirks. “I heard. Aston said he’s planning to buy the baby a motorized mini-truck.”

“Oh God,” I laugh, reaching over to wrap my fingers around his forearm. “Brody … thank you.”

He glances at me with a soft, questioning look. “For what?”

“For tonight,” I say, my voice dropping into an emotional whisper. “For holding my hand. For how you look at me. For … making me feel safe and wanted.”

Brody pulls the truck up to the gated entrance of his estate and hits the remote on the visor. The gate swings open to the lit driveway leading up to his house.

He parks the truck, turns off the engine, but doesn’t make a move to get out.

Instead, he unbuckles his seatbelt, turns his body toward me, and reaches out to frame my face in his warm hands. He strokes my cheeks with his thumbs, his dark eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes my heart hammer against my ribs.

“Ellis,” he rasps, his voice thick. “You never have to thank me for taking care of you. You’re with me now. That baby boy in your belly is my son, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t give a damn about how we got here, and I’m sure as hell not going to explain us to anyone. It’s our business.”

Tears prick my eyes. “I know,” I say, pressing my cheek into his hand. “And I know you mean that.”

“I mean every word,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. “Now, let’s go inside, take care of these pups, and crawl into bed. You need some sleep, and so does our boy.”

I let out a laugh, leaning my forehead against his cheek as he wraps his arms around me.

“That sounds good to me.”

He releases me from his hold, gets out of the truck, and walks around to the passenger side to open my door.

When we walk into the house, Buck and Oshie greet us, tails thumping against the floor.

“Hey, you two. Did you miss us?” I lean down and scratch them both behind the ears, making them wiggle even more.

“I bet they did. They haven’t had treats for a few hours now. Spoiled dogs.” Brody laughs, walks over to the kitchen and gets them … treats.

“You’re such a sucker.”

“Well, I mean, come on, look at those faces,” he says, pointing to the dogs.

He tosses the treats to the dogs, then walks over to me, helps me take my coat off, and bends down to take my shoes off my feet. When he lifts me into his arms and carries me up the stairs, I realize that something fundamental has shifted inside me.

My entire world is right here, wrapped in the arms of a man who has claimed me, and my son.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ellis

The floor-to-ceiling French doors of my parents’ formal dining room open onto a massive stone terrace overlooking a snow-dusted manicured lawn.

I lean against the doorframe, a porcelain mug of tea in my hands, watching the late-morning sun cut through the bare branches of the oak trees outside. My family home is massive—a sprawling property built on generations of money, discipline, and impeccable social standing. Growing up here, while its beauty is impressive, was really pretty normal.

Behind me, my father and Brody drink coffee, talking about nothing really. Brody sits at the table, looking completely at home despite the chandeliers, silk walls, and antique silver trays. Wearing a black sweater that stretches across his chest and shoulders, and dark denim jeans, he looks more rugged than refined. A contrast to the delicate, curated perfection of our home. He’s an elite NFL player, and every time he moves, the house almost seems to bend around him.

My pulse jumps every time I look at him.