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“Where do you want it?”
I stroked the inside of my left wrist. “Right here. I want it to say ‘Jackson’.”
Macayla
Vic was cooking dinner for us at his place. Jackson was already there because Vic had picked him up at school early because of potential lake-effect snow warnings.
Over the last two weeks, it had become routine for Vic to watch Jackson while I was at work. He’d driven to the city to visit his teammate Tyler in the hospital a couple of times. But he never stayed overnight, and as soon as he arrived home, I was the first person he found. I’d asked last time if he wanted me to come with him, but from the tension in his body and the darkening in his eyes, I knew he wasn’t ready for me to meet his team. Maybe he never would be.
Addie told me that none of them had met them, although Saint knew of them from being in SWAT. It was like Vic wanted to keep the two halves of his life separate. Contained.
We hadn’t told anyone about us yet, but a few days ago, we’d run into Saint at the hardware store while we were picking up supplies to rebuild Waffles’ playpen. Vic had hooked my waist to drag me into him to steal a kiss beside the shelf of duct tape when Saint walked around the corner.
Vic didn’t see him, and Saint didn’t say anything. He just smirked and winked at me. Okay, maybe I was warming up to him.
I walked up the porch step, wiping my boots on the new mat that read, “Did you call first?” I bought it as housewarming present last week when he’d made us dinner for the first time.
We’d been here for dinner almost every night since, and when Vic said he could cook, it was an understatement. Even Jackson was eating chickpea stew, carrot ginger soup, and veggie Bolognese.
I opened the door and walked in. I was hit with the aroma of lemongrass and basil.
“Mom! Look what we built,” Jackson shouted, running from the living room and plowing into my legs. “It’s a fort.” He tugged on my winter coat, and I laughed.
“Okay, let me get my boots off,” I said and placed my hand on the wall for support as I heeled them off, then peeled off my coat and hooked it on the newel post, as Vic didn’t have closets in his house. I’d asked if he was planning on putting them in, and he’d said the only doors he’d have were the ones on the bathrooms.
Jackson slipped his hand into mine and dragged me into the living room. I stopped. Staring. Mouth agape and probably sucking in copious amounts of cardboard dust fibers.
Because the living room had become a cardboard castle. There were four towers, a drawbridge, and a tunnel that led from tower to tower. And over the front entrance, a stick was stuck into the carboard with my Ewok T-shirt hanging from it like a flag.
I was learning that when Vic did something, it wasn’t half-assed. He went full throttle. Jackson was talking about how he cut out the turrets, although he called them “turts,” and he did all the duct taping, except Vic cut the pieces for him. He crawled through the tunnel and popped up out of the tower.
“And he said I can keep it here for a while, so I can play in it whenever I want.”
Just as I was wondering where Vic was, his arms wrapped around me from behind. I leaned back into his embrace, curling my arms over his. “Hey,” I murmured. “You were busy.”
“Mmm,” he drawled. He lowered his head, his lips next to my ear as he breathed, “Have you ever been fucked in a fort, baby?”
Shivers waterfalled. Goose bumps bounced. Tweaks erupted.
I swallowed.
“Is that a no?” he growled low and nipped the lobe of my ear, sending a shot of fireworks to explode between my legs.
I’d discovered that Vic was teasing and flirty. And he touched me a lot. It was as if he always wanted a part of himself touching me.
“Need to finish dinner, babe.” He kissed the top of my head and disappeared into the kitchen.
I played with Jackson for a bit, crawling through the cardboard castle, but all I could think about was Vic fucking me in here. But that wouldn’t happen. Vic wouldn’t until I agreed to tell my brother about us. I knew that conversation was inevitable. And it shouldn’t be a big deal, but Vic had been Ethan’s friend, and I didn’t want him coming here. It terrified me that he’d see something in Jackson. That Jackson would have recognizable eyes, or a gesture that was familiar to my brother, or something that would trigger the snowball of truth to avalanche.
Just after seven, there was a knock on the door and Vic’s body tensed, his eyes darkening, and in the space of one second, the casual Vic had been snapped away as he went into commando mode. “Away from the window,” he ordered.
It was second nature to him. There wasn’t any fear or hesitation in his movements. He knew exactly where to be and what to do. And as terrifying as that was, it was also comforting.
“Jacks, let’s put the dishes in the cupboard.” He hopped off the bar stool and we moved to the far side of the kitchen, out of the range of the window.
Only then did Vic move out of the kitchen to the front door. I heard a creak and scrape as if he had opened something, and then Addie shouted, “Jesus, Vic. Open up! It’s freakin’ freezing out here.”
Vic grunted, and I heard the bolt turn and the door open. Jackson and I walked out into the foyer to see Addie covered from head to toe in snow.
