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My lips twitch into my own smile. I would love that. Olympic swimmers. I swam when I was younger and in high school, and I miss it, so I would love it if my kids did the same. Plus, it’s a great fucking workout.
Then I imagine babies in the yard, running around the house, their little voices echoing and bouncing off the walls in the hallway. Their bare feet slapping against the hardwood that seems to be everywhere.
“Dad,” I rasp.
His hand is still on my shoulder, and he squeezes it one more time, jerking it twice before it drops to his side. His gaze doesn’t leave mine, though. It’s focused, and then he speaks. When he does, my breath is fucking gone. I’m goddamn speechless.
“Just one request,” he murmurs. Jerking my chin, I don’t take my eyes off him as he continues. “Fill that house with babies, Coleman. It was the best thing your mom and I did, having you boys. You gave us a goddamn run for our money, but it was amazing.”
He leaves me alone with my papers and my keys. I have the address, and I have a house. A whole-ass fucking house all to myself. I don’t know what to do. What to say. So I just stand there while he walks away and socializes.
I want to run out the door, drive home, pick up Claire, and show her our new home. I want to bury my cock inside of her and make a fucking baby in that home, so I can get started on filling it with children. Lots of children. One boy and the rest girls.
I want them all to look like Claire.
Perfect.
Perfect, just like her.
As much as I want to stay here and celebrate, I decide it’s time for me to leave and celebrate a different way, but before I do, I find my brothers. The two men are easy to find. Hendrick is standing by the door, appearing understandably preoccupied. Wells is about the same, although he’s standing in a semicircle with a few other cousins.
“Are you ready?” I ask as I walk up to the semicircle.
Wells lifts his head, his eyes finding mine, and he gives me a single nod. I can tell by the way his eyes sparkle that he’s glad I asked because he’s not just ready, he’s ready as fuck.
Hendrick, I don’t even have to ask. As soon as Wells and I approach him, he pushes off the wall and falls into line behind us. Wordlessly, we make our way toward our vehicles. I’m opening my mouth to tell them to come to my place when Wells speaks.
“I can’t go home yet,” he mutters. “I just can’t. Parker isn’t cool with what happened. She’s fucking pissed and has every right to be. The family ruined her fucking life. I can’t face her.”
I understand his plight, but home is the exact place I want to be right now. I don’t tell him that, though, and Hendrick is still quiet as fuck, doing whatever he does on his phone as he stands silently beside us.
“Want to check out my initiation gift?” I ask.
My brothers both look over to me, their eyes wide and smiles playing on their lips. They know that eventually, they will get the same gift, so they’re curious to know what it is. Clearing my throat, I jerk my chin toward my car.
“Hop in. We’ll go together.”
That’s exactly what we do. I drive my brothers to my brand-new house. It’s perfect. I could see my family here, faceless, nameless babies running around. My wife in the kitchen, baking bread or some shit. A Christmas tree in the living room. All of it. I can see it all, and I love it.
“Well, if this isn’t the perfect fucking shit,” Wells announces. “This is why he was so hot on us being married before we were initiated to executives.”
“Yeah,” I grunt. He wants grandkids, and I think he wants them now.
“Sooner, the better,” Wells grunts. “I’m already trying,” he confesses. “As often as fuckin possible.”
I laugh softly before I answer. “Yeah, me too.”
We spend the next couple of hours taking in and checking out every inch of the house, along with the grounds. This is exactly what Dad said it would be. This place has absolutely anything and everything someone could think of to raise a family.
I’m never fucking moving.
CLAIRE
Keepingmy eyes open and my mouth shut, I stare at Junior. I heard him act like he was not involved in this at all. Like he was so innocent. He was so believable. It wasn’t just me who bought what he was selling. It was Coleman and even his father too. Maybe it’s more along the lines of them not wanting to believe the entire family was bad news—tainted.
Junior paces. He takes his phone out of his pocket, checks it, then shoves it back inside, over and over, almost as if it’s a nervous tic. I watch him, knowing that if I make even a slight move, it’s going to send him into a tailspin.
He’s like a caged wild animal, pacing, anticipating the worst, and ready to pounce at any given moment. He’s clearly unstable, and I have a feeling that, at this point, I am just a sitting duck for whatever he has planned.
