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“Oh, I, uh… I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she said as she closed the distance between them. “I mean, I like them but don’t have much experience. I can try to take him. Think he’ll come to me?”
“Yeah, he’s super chill.” Thanks to Lock’s initial shitty parenting job, Caleb had plenty of experience being passed around among his club brothers and their women. Strangers didn’t bother Caleb in the least.
Brenna reached out stiff arms for Caleb. He gurgled and practically leaped from Lock over to Brenna. “Oh, shit, I mean, shoot. Ah! Sorry. I wasn’t expecting him to launch himself at me.” She held him out with straight elbows like a bag of dirty trash.
Lock chuckled. Not long ago, he’d been just as clumsy and uncomfortable. Now, he was an old pro, or at least he faked it well enough to pass most people’s critical eye. “You can bring him into you. I can’t promise he won’t bite, but he’s not a bomb.”
“Ah, right.” Brenna pulled Caleb close and settled him on her hip after a few awkward attempts to get comfortable. “I think he’s the first baby I’ve held.”
“Same here.”
Her face transformed into a sappy smile as Caleb reached up and patted her nose. “It’s kinda nice,” she whispered so low he most likely wasn’t supposed to hear. But since living with Caleb, his hearing had become as sensitive as a damn bat.
“C’mon, let’s eat. Hope you like Cuban food.”
“Absolutely. Oh, man. That sounds perfect.”
They didn’t speak much as they ate, using the food as a shield to keep the awkward conversation at bay, but it wasn’t long before they finished and made eye contact across the table.
Heat filled the open space between them, but it wasn’t enough to eclipse the heaviness of their situation. Brenna swallowed, and while he couldn’t help but watch how her throat moved, he remained aware of the tense set of her shoulders. Only a few months ago, it’d have been easy to ignore the reason she was there in favor of his hard dick and the promise of a good orgasm. But these days, he was actively trying to be a better man.
“Sorry, buddy,” he muttered to his poor horny dick.
Growth, thy name is Lock.
“What?” Brenna’s forehead wrinkled. “Did you say something?”
“Nope.” He wasn’t admitting that one for anything. “What do you say you grab another beer and join me on the couch? We can find a shitty movie to pass the time.” He lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “Unless you’d rather run away and hide in your room again tonight.”
Brenna cringed. “Not gonna lie, that had been my plan.”
“I figured. C’mon, I’ll even let you pick.”
She didn’t say anything, clearly unsure of him and their situation.
With a sigh, he pushed off the table. “Look, this situation is weird as fuck for both of us. We can make it even weirder by tiptoeing around each other, or we can acknowledge it and roll with it.”
Therapy for the win. He’d sure turned into a mature fucker over the past few months.
After a few tension-filled seconds, Brenna finally stood. “Got any popcorn?”
“Atta girl.” He winked. “Cabinet above the coffee pot. You get that going while I get the slobber monster taken care of. C’mon, Bubba,” he said to a filthy Caleb. Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed.
After changing the squirmy baby’s diaper, Lock got Caleb in his sleeper, fed him a bottle, and laid the nearly sleeping infant on his back in the crib. He paused, taking a moment to listen to the gentle sound of his son’s breathing and reflect on the vast changes in his life over the past months. Deanna’s death had been the catalyst for the worst and best moments of his life, and that was a mindfuck he still struggled with daily. How could he be so grateful for Caleb and mournful of his sister’s death at the same time? Had Deanna not died, Caleb most likely wouldn’t be in his life at all. He wouldn’t have spiraled downward until he hit the concrete bottom of the barrel at full speed and wouldn’t owe his life to his club brothers.
Would Brenna be waiting on his couch had Deanna lived? Probably not. He’d probably be at the clubhouse, working his way into some random’s bed. Part of him missed that life and the lack of responsibility, where no one would be counting on him except for whatever woman he’d made it his mission to pleasure that night.
But the other part of him—this new, moderately healthy version of himself—was happy right where he was, battling every day to keep from becoming a full-blown piece of shit.
Who the fuck knew what life had planned?
Christ, he needed to stop with the introspective bullshit and get his ass out to the couch before Brenna gave up and went to bed.
After a final stroke of Caleb’s soft head, Lock went to the couch. The sight of Brenna’s bare legs had him biting off a groan. Shit, maybe this had been a terrible idea. How the hell was he supposed to sit next to her and not want to pounce?
“Ever seen this?” she asked of the movie she’d queued up.
“Unfaithful? Nah, can’t say I have. Diane Lane is hot, though.”
