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“Always you, Big Man. It was always you.”
“Fuck.” He scorches my mouth with a life-affirming kiss that has my toes curling and the orgasm I thought for certain I couldn’t reachagain, flame to life.
His stream of cuss words with each pump only gets me hotter. Watching him lose control, his graceful body, huge and ripped, fumbling its rhythm as he pounds into me, sends me over the edge seconds before he groans his release, chanting, “Angel,” over and over again.
He gets off on me calling his name. Yeah, well, same.
In his eyes, I’m his savior, his angel.
In my eyes, he’s my god.
There’s nothing angelic about our love, yet it’s heaven-blessed and written in the stars, as I’ve no doubt he was made for me and I for him.
“Let’s get dressed so we can beat the kids to the tree before they rip open all the presents.”
“They know better.”
Cap put the fear of God in them last night. Told the boys when they woke to stay in the loft until an adult comes and gets them. But that doesn’t mean they won’t try something.
Dressed, Gabriel kisses my shoulder on his way out. “I’ll make coffee and a little something for you to eat to tide you over till breakfast.”
He remembers my need to eat first thing to stave off the nausea—at least that’s how it was when I was pregnant with Maddyn.
I grip his hand, pulling him back. “You’re my forever, always,” I breathe across his lips before taking a taste.
“Always, Angel.”
* * *
The first time I met Cap, I was an angry kid who thought nomancould teach me anything I didn’t already know. He proved me wrong. But he did it with kindness and compassion and a driving force that taught me how to deal with my anger and a way to vent it in as healthy a way as guys like us can do: being physical in other arenas less destructive but still violent. Fighting.
My Angel showed me how tolove.
I’m a blessed man as I take in our kids playing with their toys and being kind and gentle with each other. They don’t always get along, but they are learning coping mechanisms that will serve them well in life.
All the men in this room have had rough pasts and sharp edges that have been hewn and healed by our women. They in turn let us heal them in our own ways.
Alone we are broken and damaged.
Together we are whole and blessed, not just with our spouses but by our family Cap has amassed—some by blood, all by choice.
“You did good, old man.” I pat Cap’s shoulder and hand him an eggnog as he thoughtfully soaks in the love contained in this room.
“We’ve all been blessed, Gabriel. You gave me a larger purpose than just amassing an MMA team. It all started with you and grew into this.”
He’s being too generous, but it’s nice he thinks so.
“Are y’all ready to eat?” Mom slips under his arm. Her happiness is worth any hardship I had to endure to ensure she and Ree had a second chance at life.
“Yeah, I think so.” My whistle calls everyone to the table.
Chaos ensues, but I dive in, helping get the kids settled and food on the table. When every plate is filled, Cap says grace, blessing the food and everyone at this table and those not.
I could die a happy man if every Christmas was like this. Mom, Ree, and I never had happy Christmases. Dad was drunker and more violent. It took time to recover after I kicked him out. Slowly, we made our own traditions. But nothing could have prepared me for the joy of giving until my Angel revitalized my heart—my life. She loves Christmas—her hope, her joy is boundless, especially this time of year.
Kissing my Angel’s cheek, I whisper, “Love you,” not because she doesn’t know, doesn’t feel it, but because I do. There was a time the kind of love I feel for her was a foreign concept. The only people I loved were my mom and sister.
Now, I have a room full of people I love and openly admit it.
