〰️ Don't be shy to leave comments guys ! I love interacting with you all ! ♥️ 〰️

18th January

On Friday, almost a week after I moved in with Nathan, I'm waiting at Lydia's school for pick up. The morning was spent cleaning at Linn's. I'm faster now than I was last week, I can get through it all in four hours instead of six.

Momma and I have had a few awkward but civil conversations on the phone since I left. She calls to talk to Lydia but she asks how I'm doing too, which I appreciate I suppose. If we could get back to how things were before I moved in with her, I'd be happy.

Most of the other mom's are huddled together on the deck outside of the classroom, little cliques talking and laughing and sorting out play dates for their children. Neither Lydia nor I have made friends yet.

My gaze scans the crowd, thirty somethings in their warm coats, snow boots and beanies. I don't see a lot of other mom's my age, but I'm not a snob like that. I had superficial surface friendships with older mom's in Denver. A few who I've caught up with online but none I'm desperate to rush back and see. I've always been like that, my friendships have remained at arms length. Dallas is the only person I've ever been genuinely close with.

The late afternoon sun shines off ice cold concrete and windows, I wrap myself tighter and look forward to going home to a fire. Lydia was right, that fire place is incredible. She helps Nathan with it every evening and he seems to genuinely appreciate her enthusiasm. I was worried he'd find her tiresome but those two talk more than he and I do.

When the bell rings, the doors fly open and kids pour out, clouds of white breath all over the place, little bounces and squeals of excitement. The whole courtyard turns into activity and I smile when I spot my little girl walking out with her back pack on and her reading book swinging in her hand.

The teacher follows close behind her.

Uh oh.

The more I assess this situation, the more obvious it is that Mrs King is looking for me.

She couldn't send an email about whatever this is? Does she have to track me down in front of all the other parents? I slip my hood up and know that's a useless attempt at hiding. As soon as Lydia sees me, Mrs King will follow.

Which is exactly what happens.

"Mommy, I didn't mean to," Lydia says, standing in front of me with her big brown stare boring into me.

Mrs King clasps her hands, looking gentle and approachable. "Hi, Gabby. I just need a quick word?"

With reluctance and a quiet sigh, I relent. "Yeah. What's going on?"

Doing a quick scan of the space in my direct view, I find that most people aren't giving us much mind.

"There was a minor incident today, which is why I didn't bother putting it in an email. Um, Lydia had a little. . . altercation with one of the boys in her class. From what I gathered after hearing all of their stories, it sounds like this boy said something unkind to one of the other girls and Lydia defended her."

"Oh," that piques my interest, I try not to look too excited though.

Mrs King tucks a loc framing her sable face behind her ear. "Yeah. Um, she told him not to be a toxic little wank. Those were her words I believe."

Drayton. She had to have heard that from him. He's the only person she hears calling people little wanks on a regular basis. I purse my lips, holding in a laugh because while it's not funny, it might also be the funniest thing I've ever heard.

"Lydia," I look at her and force all the parental authority I can into my scold. "You said that?"

She looks at the ground, ashamed. As soon as we get in the car I'm going to fist bump my little heroine. 

"The little boy, Carter, apparently he heard Leslie saying mean things about Lydia's hair. So Carter said some mean things to Leslie. Lydia didn't know he was sticking up for her and told him off. We've all had a big talk about our harmful words today."

"So she stood up for the person being mean to her and insulted the person defending her?" 

"Yes," Mrs King lightly laughs. "Full circle, I know. All the parents have been spoken to. On the phone. Leslie and Carter go to after school care so their mom's aren't here. Anyway, if you have more concerns or questions, my door is always open for a chat."

"Thank you," I say, appreciative of her kind approach. She seems like a good teacher and I'm glad Lydia has her while she's starting out at a new school.

"Look, just between us," Mrs King leans in closer and lowers her voice. "I'm not sure the insult was entirely undeserved. I think Lydia is one of the funniest, quickest little girls I've ever had the pleasure of teaching. You're doing a wonderful job with her."

"You think that?"

"I do. She's wonderful. You should be proud of yourself."

I can't remember ever hearing that before. Not really. Dallas and Drayton adore Lydia, they think she's the best and I know they both love and value me. But actually hearing, from a stranger who is under no obligation to lie to me, tell me I'm doing a good job; it makes me emotional.

I thank Mrs King, take Lydia's hand and we head to the car. Her little nose is red by the time she's buckling in. Turning around in the drivers seat, I peer back at her and smile, proud of her confidence.

"You're not in trouble, baby."

She gives me a soft, relieved smile.

"You stood up for someone else, that's never a bad thing," I hold out a fist and she bumps it. "Maybe next time you could use a different word though. Don't get me wrong, I love the energy. But rules are rules."

She nods, her gaze wandering in thought to look out of the window. As if it's a reflex, I want to call Josh and tell him what happened. Because that's what I did before. Not that he ever had much of a response other than 'oh, that's no good.' Sometimes it felt like he couldn't have cared less.

Lydia looks at me after a moment. "What about imbecile? Nathan called the whistle man on the football show an imbecile."

I recall his exact words were fucking imbecile, but I'm glad she didn't repeat that part. He'd promptly apologised for his language but Lydia has grown up with Drayton and his loose lips. There was no point in trying to shelter her from it. Instead we called them adult words and I assured her, she'd get her turn one day.

Lydia and I go to the grocery store before we head home. It's my turn to cook and we needed pasta for mac n cheese. Lydia volunteers to carry the paper bag into the house, her arms wrap right around it and I open the door so she can huddle into the warmth.

Inside, Nathan is bouncing a handball against the wall, sweat pants and a t-shirt on. He's home earlier than I expected.

The fire is going and he catches the ball in one hand, smiling at Lydia who strolls past him.

"Hi, Nathan!"

"How's it going kid?" He asks, giving me a quick greeting nod.

"Good. I got into trouble at school today," she announces from the kitchen. She can't lift the bag onto the countertop, so she lowers it to the ground. "I called a boy a wank."

Nathan looks at me, brow raised.

"It was actually 'toxic little wank'," I correct, hanging my coat up. A few days ago, I put a glove and hat basket next to the coat rack for convenience. I mask a little smile when I see Nathan's own hat and gloves in there.

He's not discreet about the high five he gives Lydia as she comes back into the living room and plonks herself into the sofa.

"Don't encourage her," I warn, my tone light as I head to the kitchen. I sort of like that he seems so proud. "You're home early."

It occurs to me as I start unpacking the grocery bag, that I sounded super wifey when I said that, and I hope he didn't notice. I peer over at Nathan and see him watching me, the slightest pinch in his brow. He quickly lets it slip and gives me a shrug.

"I have a few hours before I have to be back with the team for a game. Lydia, catch," he throws the ball at her and she snaps it between two hands. "That was a quick catch. You wanna help me top up the wood up before I go?"

"Yes," she says before throwing the ball back at him with no warning and a strong arm. He catches it, smiling with pride. "That was solid. You signing up for baseball this coming season?"

"I want to sign up for all the sports. Do you know what my favourite is?"

"What?"

He leans on the breakfast bar, his strong, delicious arm snaked in veins and his hand, lord help me, his hand looks like the sort of hand you would see in a choking thirst trap.

I'm embarrassed at the blatant drooling because he's so invested in listening to my daughter talk and I'm staring at his hand and wondering what it'd look like around my throat.

"Boxing," Lydia tells him, jumping off the sofa and throwing hands at the air. "I want to box. Carter Mason at school does archery. Do you know what that is?"

Nathan nods. "Yeah it's—"

"It's bow and arrows," she cuts him off and I laugh, watching her pretend to load her bow with arrows and ping them around the room while I fill up a pot to boil. "That sounds fun. I think I want to do that too."

Nathan looks at me over his shoulder. "This kid is going to cost you a fortune in extra curricula's."

"Oh, I'm aware," I say, turning the element on before I start pulling my hair into a bun.

Flicking my gaze to Nathan, I find him focused on my midriff revealed by my arms above my head. The heaviness of his lids makes my stomach flutter.

Quickly, he looks back at Lydia, still throwing herself around the living room in warfare, her battle cries covering up the awkward silence. My heart is thumping as I continue getting dinner sorted, all too aware of the tension building between me and my best friends brother.

              Nathan leaves for his team's football game after dinner. He and Lydia made sure there was enough wood inside before he left and he asked me to keep the fire burning until he gets home.

Lydia and I watch a movie together, Encanto, she loves it. Whenever there's a musical number, she gets up, sings along, dances. I love that she's so confident in her own skin, not at all nervous about performing in front of me. I'd have never done that in front of momma.

Growing up, I often felt like a lid was pressed in place the second I walked through the front door. My emotion, my enthusiasm, my excitement, it was all too much and too improper. Momma loves me, I know that, but I always felt like my personality embarrassed her.

Perhaps that's why I was always drawn to Dallas. She never smothered that part of me. I'd often catch her smiling at my squealing or cheering but it never mattered to her if we were at home or in public, she stood proudly beside me and let me be whoever I was.

By the end of the movie Lydia is worn out. She has a shower, brushes her teeth and hops into her top bunk bed. Nathan bought her some glow in the dark fairy decals from the dollar store and she made a little fairy garden scene on the wall next to her bed. He's thoughtful like that.

I know Lydia appreciates his little gifts. It's kind of sweet to know he's thinking of her happiness when he's out. If I think about it too hard, I feel a dangerous flutter in my heart and I'm not sure I want to feel that.

Out in the living room, I sit on the floor in front of the fire and open the kindle app on my phone. I'm half way into a book called Birthday Girl. It was recommended by the book club group chat I'm part of. I'm a bit of a sucker for the age gap trope. The main girl has a thing for her boyfriends dad, and when it comes to books, all of my morals go out the window.

It's fictional, it's totally fine.

I'm not sure how much time has passed when Nathan gets home. But I'm still on the floor, my lip pinched between my fingers while I read a particularly good scene. The front door opens and the cold air hits me head on.

Nathan quickly closes the door when he sees me. He gives me a quick nod and starts taking off his coat, hat and gloves. His nose is red, it looks kind of cute. He watches me as he leans on the wall and toes off his boots.

"Didn't think you'd still be up."

I roll onto my back and lift my phone above me. "It's not a week night. I can sleep in. How was the game?"

"Could've been better. Could've been worse."

"You lost then?"

"Not by a lot but it was still disappointing. Never mind. Thanks for keeping that going."

He points at the fire as he crosses the living room, pulling his hoodie over his head. The bottom of his shirt rides up and I stare at the hardness of his torso. He drops his hoodie onto the sofa, falls into the cushions and exhales a deep breath as he swipes open his phone.

We fall into a comfortable silence, as we often do, and I continue reading. I like that we can exist like this considering how much he pissed me off when I first arrived in town.

The scene I'm reading heats up and I'm super aware of the fact that I'm not alone. However, I've been reading questionable content since I was a teenager and with my mom being as strict as she was, I had to master the art of a poker face.

"What are you doing?" Nathan asks, breaking the quiet and giving me a fright.

I arch my head back and look at him upside down. "Reading. Why?"

"You still read?"

I'm kind of warmed that he remembers that about me. "Yep."

"What's it about?"

I sit up, facing him and crossing my legs, the warmth of the fire heats up my back through the hoodie I'm wearing. "It's about . . . a birthday girl. Why are you asking?"

"Because you're breathing so damn loud over there."

I freeze. No, I can't be. I'm made of steel when it comes to reading smut in public. Steel.

"I am not," I scoff, looking at my phone screen, the words have started blurring together. Nathan gets up and saunters over to the fridge, watching me the whole time.

He gets out a beer, flicks the cap off and brings it to his mouth, all the while, his gaze burns into me.

"What are you staring at?" I snap.

"You."

I almost ask him why but I'm scared of his response. Instead, I ignore him, do my best to regulate my breathing and focus on the book again. It's so hard when I know he's watching me but when I quickly peek up at him next time, he's sifting his clothes out of the clean laundry basket.

A few more minutes pass and then he says, "come on, what's going on in that book?"

"Nathan," I drop the phone into my lap, the crotch of my big sweat pants catches it. "Nothing. It's just a book. Like, a boring book."

He has this stupid little smirk as he sits on the couch, legs spread wide. "Can I see it?"

My heart flies into my throat. "No."

"How come?"

"Because you don't need to see it."

His gaze slowly moves over me and I feel a lot hotter than the fire place is responsible for.

"Read it to me," he says.

I blank. "If I'm not going to let you see it what makes you think I'm going to read it out loud?"

He shrugs and my attention falls to his lap, stupidly, because it looks like a fucking seat and he must see that in my face.

"Come on," he taunts, voice low and quiet. "Come sit on my lap and read to me."

The tension in the room is so thick I can't breathe. As flustered as he makes me feel, I don't want to let him win. He might seem confident now, but I wonder how confident he'll be when I read this scene to him.

Swallowing the nerves and pretending to be totally calm, I lift my phone and give him a challenging smile.

"I really want to. . ."
"Want to what?"
I open my mouth, whispering against his lips as our bodies meet again and again. "I want to suck you off." I rub my lips over his, taunting him. "I want to feel you in my mouth."

When I peer up through my lashes, Nathan is watching me so intently, I feel it in my core. As if his gaze is gripping me behind the neck, forcing me to feel him. His chest is rising and falling harder than before. I keep reading.

I kiss him, our lips hovering over each other as sweat glides down my back. "You want your cock in my mouth?" I whisper.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nathan shifting on the sofa, his hips moving on the seat. I don't look up at him.

He bites my bottom lip, gently and lets it go. "Say it again."
"I want to suck your dick," I say again.

This time, I do look up, I can't help it and when I do, I find Nathan with his lips slightly parted and his breathing rapid. He swallows, his thick neck rolling. The house is silent apart from his rasp breath and the crackle of the fire. The words echo between us, I want to suck your dick.

His cock pounds into me like a hammer and I curl my toes, feeling my orgasm crest.
"I want to lick you," I whisper. "And taste you and make you come."

Nathan slides onto the edge of the couch, his elbows leaning on his knees as he watches me, palming his jaw.

I flick his lip with my tongue, feeling fire spread through my thighs and rock up my insides. "Please?" I whisper, backing up into his dick, and chasing it too. "Fuck my mouth tonight?"

"Stop," Nathan says suddenly, his voice hoarse and loud, startling me. His eyes are dark, dilated and fixed on my mouth. "Just . . . stop."

This is what I'd wanted, to wind him up and get the upper hand. Now that I have it, I'm not sure this was the best idea because the way he's looking at me, creates a dampness between my legs.

"Why?" I ask, the word comes out a whisper.

He stands up and I have to contain a gasp at the obvious bulge in his slacks.

"Because I'm not hearing that character asking those questions," he stops in front of me, looking down. "I'm hearing you, asking to make me come, and I'm damn near close to letting you."

It becomes alarmingly obvious how close his crotch is to my face and how would this night unfold if I were to get on my knees right now?

What am I even thinking?!

I'm thinking it though.

Before I can do something insanely stupid, Nathan steps back, his jaw tense and fluttering as he stares at me.

"I'm going to bed," he says.

I nod, watching him retreat. Does he want me to volunteer that I join him? No, I'm not doing that. I want to though. When did this happen?

His hand slips down to his dick and he palms the outside of his pants. I almost throw myself back into the floor in the hopes it'll swallow me whole.

"Sweet dreams, Gabrielle," he smirks. "I know mine will be."

I am so screwed.