Until December (Until Her 5)

“Fuck. I hate I can’t kiss you the way I want to with my boys watching us.”

Feeling like a bucket of ice water has been dumped on my head, I immediately withdraw my hands from his chest like it’s on fire and drop them to my sides. “They’re watching?” I whisper like they might be able to hear then try to step around him. When he blocks my way, I tip my chin back toward him. “We need to go in.”

“We will after you tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” I say instantly.

He shakes his head, not releasing the hold he has on me. If anything, his grip gets tighter as he dips his head toward mine. “Trust me.” Those two words wrap around my insides as he stares into my eyes, imploring me to believe that everything will be alright. “My boys are good with you being here. I just need you to be good with it.”

“He knows his boys better than you do.” My mom’s words from earlier today when I admitted my doubts about tonight fill my mind, and I know I need to trust him to know what’s best for his kids.

“A lot has happened in the last twenty-four hours,” I say, and he lifts his chin slightly in agreement but doesn’t comment. Resting one hand on his large bicep, I squeeze. “I trust you. If you say everything will be alright, then I believe you.”

I watch his expression gentle and the unease slide out of his features, but then lose the look when he bends to touch his lips to my forehead. “Come meet my boys.”

His breath warms my skin before he pulls away, and I force my eyes open then take his hand and walk at his side toward his front porch, noticing the blinds snap back into place as we head up the steps. My fingers flex around his and my step falters.

“Jump,” he whispers.

I fight against the fear making me want to run, and tighten my hold on his hand and whisper back, “Jump.” The moment the word passes my lips, he turns the handle, and as soon as the door opens, I know my life will never be the same.

Two smiling faces greet us as soon as we step into the house, and I notice both Gareth’s boys are already as handsome as he is.

“Hey, Miss Mayson.” Mitchell’s smile turns into a grin as he hauls his blond-headed brother against his side roughly with his arm around his neck. “This is my brother Max.”

“You can call me December,” I tell Mitchell then look at Max, whose face has become red. “Hey, Max. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Max grunts, trying to get away from his brother, who’s now holding him captive just because he’s bigger and sibling law written thousands of years ago requires him to do so.

“Boys,” Gareth warns, sounding like the dad he is, and Mitchell reluctantly releases his brother, who takes full advantage of being free. He elbows Mitchell in the ribs, making him grunt, and then when Mitchell lunges for him, he rushes across the room to hide safely behind his father’s back, making me laugh.

“Welcome to the crazy house.” Gareth shakes his head at both boys before looking at me.

I smile up at him. “I grew up with four sisters, so this was my normal until I moved out to go to college.”

“You have four sisters?” Max asks, peering at me from around his father’s side.

“I do.”

“Are they all as pretty as you are?” he asks, and I notice a hint of pink hit his cheeks.

Okay, I think I just fell in love.

“Prettier,” I say quietly, and he eyes me doubtfully.

“I always wanted a sister,” Mitchell pipes in, and I glance at Gareth, noticing he’s frowning at his oldest. “Well… I did.” Mitchell shrugs his already broad shoulders, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry, kid. That’s not gonna happen,” Gareth says, and my insides twist, reminding me that I didn’t get what I need to get from the drug store today, which means the seventy-two hours I have are quickly ticking away.

“Pizza’s here!” Max shouts, making me jump, then I watch him rush to the door and pull it open before the doorbell even rings.

“Finally,” Mitchell says, sounding a lot like his dad as he walks past me toward the door to help his brother.

“Baby.” Gareth’s fingers capture my chin, gaining my attention, and I focus on the man standing above me. “What’s in your head?” he asks quietly.

Oh nothing, except I’m not on birth control, the condom broke last night and I haven’t gone to get the morning after pill which means there is a chance Mitchell could get his wish. “Nothing’s in my head,” I lie, and his eyes search mine then move over my face narrowing slightly.