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Quin glances my way and waves. I wave back, my heart fluttering on a high from such a simple, sweet gesture. This is what we’ve been reduced to. Feeling excitement from the mildest of interactions. What will it be like when we finally come together after all this time?
He goes back to showing our son how to carefully tie rope around the wood, so it can be pulled up on the pulley he’s hung from one of the big oak’s upper branches.
The man works fast, making quick decisions and moving with a confidence that is so fucking distracting, it’s taken me all day to do my chores, and that’s only because the guys left the premises to get supplies at one point, leaving me nothing to drool over.
They’re almost ready to start building the main platform, and their ideas are moving well beyond that, with talk of string phones to the house and what kind of furniture will be needed. Thankfully, Quin vetoed Curty’s request for a fireplace — multiple times. He also gave an extended lecture on fire safety before sayingnothe last time.
Our son pouts for a minute, but it’s forgotten when a game of tag breaks out between him and Quin. They rush about the yard in crazy patterns, zigzagging to escape being caught.
Curty tags Lucius, who was clearly only sent as Jack’s envoy, but Curty doesn’t know that. His innocence protects him from so much, and I’m not the only one who wants to keep it that way.
When Loosh doesn’t move, Quin explains to our son that it’s only because he doesn’t know the rules, and within moments, he’s encouraged his incredibly daunting big brother to participate in the game.
Loosh moves slowly toward Quin, like a lumbering giant with his hand out, ready to tag. Quin takes the touch, they have some sort of muted conversation, and then the game continues more enthusiastically with all three of them.
My boys give Loosh a lot of moral support and take it easy on him in a way that makes me think that maybe he really didn’t know how to play tag before now. How sad and yet wholly unsurprising is that, when Jack Montgomery is his father?
I rest my head against the window frame and sigh, as I watch Quin move. He’s big and built for strength, but he’s leaner and more athletic than Lucius. There’s an easy grace to his movements, and I could watch tirelessly as he plays in an environment he so obviously belongs in.
The way he wields his tools when he works is just as seductive. His efficient style seems intuitive — every measurement, cut, and placement a natural dance of thought, skill, and care. I’m in love with his tone of voice and the way he talks about what he’s doing, sharing his passion with Curty. And the way he slides his hands along the timber, as if feeling an intimate connection to the wood’s grain or the tree it came from… It’s the kind of attention I wish he could bestow upon me.
I squeeze my slick thighs together over the needy ache in my core, and the movement makes the tracking bracelet on my ankle bump against my other leg. The cringe is automatic, and I wait frozen, to see if anything happens. Sometimes, I accidentally conjure the devil himself just by touching the thing.
There’s some sort of sensor on it, to prevent me attempting to remove it, and sometimes I trigger some sort of anti-tampering alarm. I couldn’t put a number on how many times I’ve summoned a phone call just by absentmindedly scratching my leg, and I’m sure Jack will be paying close attention this week, with Quin so nearby.
Right on cue, my phone rings, and the nameJackassflashes onto the screen. I decline the call and glare at the ugly shackle on my ankle that I have to pretend is a pretty trinket I can’t bear to part with.
My phone rings again, and I pick it up with a sigh. “What the fuck do you want, Jack?”
“Was just looking at two dots on a screen and got an inkling to call and ask how the gift I sent has been received,” he says, with an audibly smug little smirk.
“If bygiftyou mean an annoying amount of watching where I step, it’s underwhelming,” I reply flatly. “I’d prefer a donation made in my name to a charity for children who get fucked up by their abusive asshole parents.”
Jack laughs in my ear. “None of my other wives make me laugh like you do, sweetling. You’re so… spirited.”
“What do you want, Jack?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Just checking on the welfare of my son,” he says innocently.
“Uh-huh. Calls about Curtus happen on Mondays, but since you rang, I’ll remind you that, if anyone you’ve sent makes my son feel even remotely uncomfortable, they’re packing up and leaving. He doesn’t need fake smiles and thinly veiled loathing from Quin, and he definitely doesn’t need Lucius, looming over him like a bogeyman out in plain daylight.”
“HowisQuintus?” Jack asks, ignoring what I’ve said. “Does he appreciate seeing the life you made for yourself without him?”
“I doubt it. Are you satisfied enough to hang up yet?”
“Hmm… Try not to tug too hard on that delicate bracelet of yours. Makes me think you’re planning something or getting ideas about escaping with Quin. Do you need me to make an even more powerful piece of jewelry that injects you with something deadly if you try to tamper with it?”
“This one’s quite deadly enough, thanks. Kindly fuck off and die.”
I hang up, but my phone rings again, and I brace myself for more Jack-assery, as I answer. “What do I have to do, to just live my fucking life?”
“Well — now that you mention it — I’ve been planning for my birthday gathering and had something different in mind this year, and I thought I’d kindly give you notice. It’ll be a week earlier than usual.” He sounds far too cheerful.
Obviously,differentmeans unpleasant for the rest of us.
“Great. I can hardly wait for what mandatory birthday fun you’re planning. Do I need to remind you of the limitations around exposing my son to any of your fucking bullshit, taking him out of town—”
“About that.” Jack cuts me off.
