#Sweet Summer Series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluestar22x · 11 months

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July

Sweet Summer - July

Summary: An evening at the Pena ranch turns into a night to remember.

Pairing: Javier Pena x Virgin!Reader (She’s in her 30s, just late to the game)

Rating: 18+ series, explicit chapter

Warnings: Explicit smut, fowl language, reader is insecure, then not, Javi being a consent king and literally perfect.

Word Count: 5,879

Author’s Note: This is the most spicy piece I’ve ever written (appropriate for Javi) and yet also one of the sweetest. I melted writing it.

xxx

“I knew dating you was a smart choice,” you joked as you stroked the thick neck of the chestnut gelding tied up to a post just outside of the Pena barn.

One of Javier’s eyebrows shot up and he folded his arms, an expression of mock disapproval on his face. “You only dated me to get access to the horses?”

“Not only,” you replied, drawing out your words.

He chuckled and let his arms hang loose. “Well, let’s hop on. I’ve got an idea of where we could go for a nice view. Do you need a boost?”

You smirked at him and easily swung up into the saddle on the horse’s back.

“Show off,” Javier muttered, but he wasn’t annoyed. His eyes only held amusement.

He walked around your mount to get to his, a blue roan mare, and climbed onto her, his movement a bit less smooth than yours. “You confident about your riding skills?”

“It’s like riding a bike, isn’t it?” you said, not really asking. “I’m confident it’ll come back to me. See? I already have my heels down and everything.”

You both glanced at your boot covered feet in the stirrups and he smiled. “You’ve got the beginner stuff down at least.”

“So what are their names?” you inquired, scratching your mount’s neck. The gelding groaned and leaned into your touch, causing you giggle.

Javier smiled softly at the bright sound bubbling up from you. “He’s Red. And this mare’s Stormy.”

“Plain and simple,” you noted.

“Yeah, well, my dad’s a simple man,” Javier told you as he gave Stormy a pat. “You ready to head out?”

You nodded, and he led you away from the main yard of the ranch at a walk, out into open country. As you set out, you took time to bask in the fading sunlight, eyes closed, the heat from it finally tolerable.

July afternoons in Texas were often too hot to work horses, so Javier had suggested you come by later in the day for a ride, just as things were starting to cool down. It turned out to be the perfect time.

Red turned out to be perfect too, or as perfect as any horse could be anyway. You’d ridden several beginner horses in your lifetime, but none were both laid back and responsive like he was. You barely had to tug the reins to redirect his head, you barely had to dig in a heel for him to pick up his pace slightly, into a faster walk, and he had an air of calm that made you trust him like no other horse before. He made you feel confident, and that was important to have as a rider.

Javier must’ve sensed it because several minutes into the ride he suggested loping. “If we want to make it to the spot I have in mind before the sun fully sets, we’re going to have to pick up the pace. But only if you’re ready.”

You nodded. “I am.”

To prove your point, you clicked your tongue at Red and leaned slightly forward, encouraging him into a faster speed. He arched his neck immediately and his gait swiftly changed into one of a rocking motion. You were instantly reminded why the lope was your favorite horse gait. It was smooth, predictable, and yet still speedy enough to give you a thrill. You gave a yip to the darkening sky above and dared to steal a look at Javier, who had urged Stormy to keep the same stride as Red.

When you had first met him five weeks ago, you’d teasingly endowed him with the nickname cowboy, but it wasn’t until that evening, when he was riding a horse beside you, that he’d actually looked like one to you. Eyes focused ahead, seat steady, dressed in a red plaid shirt, dark blue jeans, and a tan pair of riding boots. He might have looked like he stepped right out of an old western, if he wasn’t missing the cowboy hat, but even without it, he sold it.

You felt a flame ignite in your belly as you observed him. You had a thing for cowboys, and you had a major thing for Javier. His broad shoulders, his strong nose, his large hands, his kind eyes, and his rumbling low voice. You’d found yourself totally distracted by him when Red suddenly stumbled over a rock in your path, lurching forward enough to unseat you, nearly causing you to flip over his neck. Luckily, you’d latched onto the saddle horn the split second it occurred and managed to steady yourself, a gasp flying out of your mouth as you did so.

“You alright?” Javier asked, as he slowed Stormy to walk alongside Red again, concerned.

You flushed and tilted your head away from him, trying to hide the embarrassment you had over letting your attention get drawn away from the ride. It really wasn’t the time.

“I’m fine,” you answered. “Does Red look okay? I don’t feel him limping but it’s not like I’m an expert.”

Javier studied the horse for a few moments, eyes scanning over his legs, shoulders, and hips and he shook his head. “He looks good to me. He didn’t stumble too badly.”

“Yeah, I just wasn’t paying enough attention to stay balanced,” you huffed.

Javier shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.” If he knew why you’d been caught off guard, he didn’t show it. “We’re here.”

You peered between Red’s ears and spotted a few hills up ahead, right along the border of wire fencing surrounding the Pena property. When Javier pointed Stormy at the middle hill and began climbing it, you followed suit on Red, smiling. Of course. Watching the sun set on a hill. The range of view it provided probably made it the best scenic spot on the ranch.

You were pretty certain of it after you watched the last of the sun’s rays dip behind the horizon at the top, no light left except for a few lingering streaks of gold and orange highlighting the clouds in the sky. It was far from the first time you’d seen a sunset, but it was the first time in your memory that you’d witnessed the exact moment day became night. The sight of it over the arid landscape, from Red’s back, left you sucking in a sharp breath. It was funny how something that happened every day could be so beautiful.

“You’re lucky to have this place,” you told Javier. “I’d kill for a view like this.”

He chuckled. “Hopefully not in a literal sense.”

You snorted and his expression turned serious as he sighed. “When I was a teenager, I wanted nothing more than to get away from here. I found it boring. I wanted to see the world.”

“Did you?” you questioned.

His mouth twisted into something like a grimace. “Not in the way I wanted to.”

“Do you still find it boring here?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But being bored isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a man.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know what Javier had gone through during his time as a DEA agent, he wasn’t very open about it, didn’t willingly divulge much about it except occasional stories about his old partner Steve and his family. And your relationship was still too new for you to feel like you had the right to dig. You didn’t need to know, after all. Whatever had happened when he was taking down cartels in Colombia, whatever he had done, that was in the past.

You had fallen into a quiet spell after that, but it was quickly broken by your stomach growling loudly.

You felt your cheeks heat up again as Javier laughed at the noise. “Guess we should head back.”

You agreed quietly and followed him back to the ranch at a jog, as the sky darkened enough for the first stars to come out, content with not saying anything else. Javier didn’t seem to mind your silence, but he did break it as the ranch house came into view.

“Do you need to get home to feed Trix?” he inquired, his eyes darting over to you.

“No,” you replied quickly. “Actually, I had a friend take her home tonight, in case I was late getting home tonight.”

Tomorrow morning late.

Do not blush, you chided yourself mentally.

You’d been pondering over it a lot over the last week. You’d thought about how easy things were with Javier, how much you’d come to trust him in the last month you’d been dating, and how he had never asked for anything more than you’d been willing to give.

It wasn’t like a month was that long, right? But you felt like it had been long enough. Too long taking your situation in consideration. You’d decided you were ready to take the next step with him if he was, but you being you, you couldn’t just spell out your intentions for him.

The way Javier tensed in the saddle for a moment, you guessed your intent was clear enough. You reveled a little when you noticed him swallowing hard.

“So do you want to join me in the house for supper after we untack the horses?” he inquired. “I can’t promise much, I’m not exactly a cook, but I think we have some eggs I could scramble and a loaf of bread for some toast. We always have enough coffee on hand.”

“Your dad won’t mind?” you prodded. You’d figured you’d go out to eat and end up at your place, not in the ranch house shared with his father.

“He’s actually visiting his sister for the weekend,” Javier informed you. “Not that he would’ve.”

You couldn’t believe the timing. Your heart fluttered at the idea of you and Javier having the whole house to yourselves. No neighbors like at your apartment. Not a single pair of prying eyes or ears to worry about. You bit your bottom lip.

“I’d love to,” you said, hopping off Red when he was a few feet from the front door of the barn.

Javier’s lips curled upward slightly. “Great.”

He swung off Stormy’s back and guided her into the barn, leading you by example. You brought the horses into the two empty stalls at the back the barn, the other two occupied by slightly shorter horses, a paint and a dapple gray that was built very similarly to Red. You both made quick work of untacking your mounts, grooming them, and giving them hay for the night, along with the other horses.

With a goodnight kiss to Red’s velvety muzzle you strolled down the barn aisle side by side with Javier, anxiety starting to pool in the pit of your stomach over how the night might turn out, your self-confidence seemingly plummeting to an all-time low as you overthought. But you were too stubborn, too tired of taking the easy way out, to let that shut you down so fast.

After you exited the barn, stepping back on the dirt drive to the Pena household you cleared your throat, simply to get Javier’s attention. When his eyes met yours, you nodded at your car. “I’ve got a change of clothes. Would you mind if I used your shower to get cleaned up before supper?”

His eyes widened slightly, and surprise was written all over his face. “Uh, sure. I’ll cook the eggs and get the coffee going while you do that.”

You stood on your tip toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks.”

The Pena house was ancient as far as houses in Texas went, but it was well kept and maintained for a place that hadn’t had a woman’s touch in at least a decade. It was cozy, if not a little stuffy, made worst by the lack of air conditioning.

As soon as you’d entered the house, Javier had gotten to work getting out everything he’d need to cook the eggs and you’d climbed the stairs to the second floor, following the directions he’d given you to find the bathroom. Not that it was hard to find. First door to the right of the stairs.

It felt strange stripping bare in a household you’d never been in before, even in the bathroom with the door closed. It was different than being in a hotel room with friends or family. You weren’t used to being naked in the home of a person you didn’t know a month ago. You may have trusted Javier, but the awkwardness was still there. You shrugged off the feeling. Afterall, if you couldn’t take an innocent little shower in his house, how would you fuck him?

You used the cheap 2 in 1 shampoo that was on the shower shelf for your hair, making sure to work it into your hair until there were plenty of suds, then rinsed and used one of the new bars of soap you’d found in the room’s cabinet to clean your body. It took maybe six minutes before you were out of the shower and wrapped in a towel, headed for your bag on the countertop.

You hadn’t just packed some fresh clothes in it, but also a toothbrush and toothpaste, and you used them then, just in case you wouldn’t have time to brush after the supper, though you planned to take a moment to do so.

Another three minutes and you were downstairs, the smell of eggs and toast and coffee filled your nostrils way before you reached the kitchen.

“Smells good,” you called out as you turned the corner to enter the room.

Javier smiled at you as you plopped yourself down at the table. “Better?”

You nodded as you pulled a hair tie out of your left front pocket to tie back your damp hair. “Much. And I thought New York summers were hot.”

“Food’s done,” he announced, shutting off the stove burner he was using and pulling a pair of plates out of the cabinet next to the sink. “Come eat.”

As if you hadn’t hinted at deepening your relationship, you and Javier talked over supper like you typically did on your dates, about anything and everything that popped into your heads. Something a family member had done, a friend, people at work, or about the animals. You hadn’t seen each other since Sunday afternoon, six days ago, and Javier wasn’t big on phone calls, so there was a fair bit to catch up on.

After you’d eaten your fill, you both stood to dump your plates in the sink.

“Leave the mess for now,” he told you. “I’m going to go take a shower and get into clean clothes too, then I’ll pick up. There are movies on the shelf by the TV in the living room. If you want, you could pick out one and we could watch it when I’m out?”

“Sure,” you said, having no intention of leaving the mess alone, nor watching a movie after.

“Make yourself at home,” he shouted back down as he disappeared up the stairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, you got to work, shoving utensils and plates into the dishwasher and scrubbing the pan he’d used for the eggs under running warm water. After washing the pan and anything else that couldn’t be washed by machine, you wiped down the stove and tabletop before taking to the living room to pace around.

For the hell of it, you took a couple minutes to look through the pile of video tapes by the TV, mostly old westerns and 80s cop shows. You decided to pick one out just so you had something in hand when Javier returned, settling for The Magnificent Seven. You hadn’t watched a lot of westerns growing up, but you’d heard that was a pretty decent one, so you planted yourself on the couch with the case in hand.

He joined you less than a minute later, hands on his hips. “You didn’t need to clean up.”

“I wanted to,” you declared. “In my house growing up the cook never washed the dishes after.”

He shook his head. “So did you choose out a movie?”

You raised the hand grasping the video tape.

“Good choice,” he said approvingly, flopping down beside you. “You ready to watch?”

“After I use the bathroom,” you told him, pushing yourself back up onto your feet.

As soon as you were out of sight, you raced up the stairs, taking time to pee and to brush your teeth one more time, afraid any remnants of supper would ruin any possible moments.

You cursed the wayward curls on your forehead when you looked in the mirror and chose to let your hair hang loose again so they blended in better. After you’d brushed your hair out with your fingers so it wasn’t so flat from the tie, you made your way back to the living room.

“All set now,” you announced, hoping the nervousness in your voice wouldn’t give away what you were about to say next.

“I already popped in the movie,” Javier notified you as you sat back down, one of your knees brushing against his as you twisted in your seat to face him. “We just need to press play.”

You nodded, putting on a thoughtful look for show. “What if I don’t want to watch a movie?”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead and he smirked, amused. “Impatient, carino?”

“I knew you’d gotten the hint,” you murmured as you leaned forward to let your lips nearly brush his.

“It wasn’t exactly subtitle,” he informed you.

“Oh well.” You pressed your lips against his and he immediately opened up to you, letting you slip your tongue inside as you eagerly pulled yourself onto his lap.

This much you were used to, this much you’d done with him before. He’d helped you refine your kisses with practice, and you’d quickly become confident about your techniques once you’d gotten good enough to draw a groan from him and that is what you set out to do again on that couch.

When the sound slipped out from somewhere deep in his throat, you jerked away from him just enough to speak. “Show me to your room.”

“Are you sure about this?” he asked lowly, cupping one of your cheeks with a rough hand, his dark brown eyes searching yours earnestly.

“I think the slow burn’s gone on long enough,” you joked, kissing him again, nipping at his bottom lip. He grunted at that and deepened it once more.

After a few moments he led you upstairs, to the second room on the left, dragging you inside and grabbing you by the waist, his lips never leaving yours for longer than a split second. He walked you to his bed, sitting on the edge and patting his legs. You got the message and straddled him, sitting on his lap more directly than you had on the couch.

With nothing but moonlight to guide you in the dark, you reached for the hem of the clean gray t-shirt Javier had worn after his shower and removed it, throwing it to the ground as you placed your mouth back on his and splayed your hands over his bare chest.

What a dream he was, and it was only just the beginning. Every muscle in your body already humming with anticipation, with arousal. You let him tug your shirt over your head without a second thought, and closed your eyes as he nibbled the delicate skin along your collarbone, shivering at the pleasant graze of his teeth and his tongue on you. You gasped a little, lost in the moment.

But you quickly snapped out of it when you felt his hands reaching to unclasp your lacy bra, the one you’d specially bought just for him. You stopped him with your hands over his biceps, gripping them firmly.

He glanced up at you, confusion written on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’d rather keep the bra on tonight,” you answered breathlessly.

He frowned, lips almost forming into a pout. “Why?”

You could tell by his inflection that he wasn’t trying to pressure you with the question or make you feel stupid about your reluctance, he genuinely wanted to know your reason, to understand it, but it still made you feel more self-conscious than you’d ever felt before in your life.

You didn’t want to lie, but you did try to shrug it off like it wasn’t actually a big deal to you. “They just look better like that.”

Your breasts had never been as perky and well-shaped as the ones women tended to have on TV and they were your least favorite part of your body. You’d been hoping that, for at least one night, you could avoid...flaunting them. You’d thought it would be easy enough to avoid if you bought a fancy bra to contain them.

Javier’s eyes softened a bit, and he kissed you along your jaw, drawing a quiet moan from you. “If you’d rather keep it on for comfort, that’s alright, but don’t do it because you’re worried about my opinion of them. I promise I’m not a picky man, carino. And I’d like to touch you there. To kiss you there.”

He dipped his head down to kiss the center of your chest, as if to give you a preview, and you sucked in a deep breath. God, you wanted him to. Despite your reservations about the condition of your breasts, you desperately wanted him to explore them, to know what it felt like.

You swallowed hard. “Okay. Yes.”

He easily unclipped your bra and set your breasts free, watching them fall onto your chest, and you watched for his reaction, breath catching in your chest with apprehension.

You saw the exact moment his eyes darkened with lust, and you gnawed on your lip upon witnessing it. Your breasts turning him on was the last thing you’d expected on that night.

“Can I touch them?” he inquired, his voice raspier than before.

You whined at him. “Yes, Javi.”

He cupped them in his hands, kneading them, and his thumbs found your nipples, massaging them, moving in a circular pattern. You gasped and arched your back as they hardened, eyes closing to the pleasant sensation his touch sparked in you.

The next thing you knew his hot mouth was on your right one and you moaned loudly as his tongue dragged over the bud. He took his time to work over it, then the left, before returning his mouth to yours and pulling you in close, palms pressed against your bare back.

“You are perfect just the way you are, baby.” He grunted. “So damn sensitive. You sound so good.” His voice was strained, and it wasn’t the only part of him that was. You could feel his bulge through his jeans, and as he started grinding against your own jean clad center, your stomach did a flip when you gave recognition to the fact that he was hard for you. For the longest time you hadn’t believed you could be that attractive to anyone.

Your biggest insecurity about your body overcome, you felt empowered after, untouchable by your other, less notable ones, like the one you had for the faint stretch marks that ran along your belly and thighs, and the puzzle shaped birth mark on your right thigh that made that part of your skin lighter than the rest. They all faded to the back of your brain as your focus became single minded.

You stood and pushed off your jeans, kicking them aside in a beat, and your hands impatiently reached for the top button on his. He let you undo it and lifted his hips so you could peel his pants off. They were so form fitting the move nearly pulled his boxers off with them, revealing the happy trail between his hips as they rode dangerously low.

With your next kiss you were back on his lap, hands gripping his strong shoulders tightly as his hands found your hips.

He nibbled on your neck, and his mustache lightly brushed the delicate skin there, making you pitch forward with a giggle. “That tickles.”

“Sorry,” he apologized under his breath, though a grin was plastered on his face.

You grinned back at him. “No, I like it.”

You kept kissing each other, mouths mapping whatever skin you could easily reach, and somewhere during that time you’d shifted, positioned your body so that one of his thighs was straddled between your legs, pressed to your cunt. It took you a minute to realize you were rotating your hips, rubbing yourself against the firm muscle underneath his skin and your thin lacy underwear.

You blushed when you noticed and immediately stilled your hips, redirecting your passion to mouthing at his neck.

He groaned his disappointment. “Don’t stop, hermosa, keep going. Try to get yourself off on my thigh. I want to see it.”

Your breath hitched and you nearly bit down on the slope of his shoulder when those words tumbled out of his mouth. “Fuck, Javi, don’t tell me that like that.” You might as well have been struck by lightning.

He chuckled and beamed up at you unapologetically, tightening his hold on your hips a little more to help you keep balance as you started back up again. You felt a bit silly dry humping his leg at first, but the way he stared up at your face reverently, with his pupils blown wide open, erased it and you fully embraced the situation, digging your nails into his shoulders for purchase as you moved.

The friction between your folds, your thin underwear, and his thigh caused by your rolling hips felt so good you got completely lost in it, eyes half mast, breaths catching. You could feel something building within you, making the pit of your stomach burn and the space between your legs throb. Your heart began to race, sweat broke out over your brow, and you let out a loud moan.

“You’re so fucking hot like this,” Javier told you with a moan of his own, eyes glued to your face except for the occasional glance to where you were riding him. You felt a thrill coarse through you after hearing his admiration, and felt yourself get tantalizingly close to climaxing, but after a while you realized getting yourself to tip over the edge was going to be impossible. It just wasn’t quite enough.

You blew out a frustrated sound and Javier pursed his lips. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I can’t, not like this,” you admitted regretfully. “It’s not enough.” If only it was.

He stroked his hands up and down your back, like he was trying to soothe you. “Can I try something? Can I touch you here?”

One of his hands went to the front of your underwear and your heart jumped. You’d wanted to know for so long what it would be like for a man to touch you there, so long that you didn’t even hesitant to agree to it. He slipped his hand under the fabric after you gave him permission and you felt his thick fingers start to circle your most sensitive bits, getting coated by your wetness as he did so.

You lurched forward at the extra contact, and in under a minute his fingers had you flying over the edge, crying out his name as you came harder than you’d ever on your own. You clutched to him for several seconds after before you pulled away to kiss him heatedly.

“Felt so good,” you panted against his lips. “But I want to feel you in me, Javi. Please.”

“You don’t have to beg hermosa,” he said with a groan, his hands cupping your face. “I want it just as bad. But I gotta know first, is this your first time?”

You froze, suddenly reminded of that other big insecurity that had managed to not rear its ugly head until he’d brought it up. You chewed your lip nervously. “How’d you guess?”

He smiled at you softly. “Our first kiss hinted that might be the case.”

Your eyes fell away from his. You knew you shouldn’t be, but there was a part of you that couldn’t help but feel ashamed. “I didn’t want to bring it up.”

“Why not?” he prompted, expression nonjudgmental.

“Cause it’s embarrassing, a woman my age.”

“Nothing wrong with waiting,” Javier assured you.

“You’re not bothered by it?” you asked, hopeful. To your knowledge, most men preferred women who were experienced, who knew what they were doing. Certainly a man like Javier would be one of them?

He shook his head firmly. “I promise I’m not, carino. I’d like to make you come one more time before though. With my fingers inside you this time.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck and groaned. You had to be living some kind of fantasy. This couldn’t be real. “Fuck, go for it.”

He laughed and shifted, scooping you up and twisting around so you were laying on your back against the bedspread. He crawled between your thighs, kissed the spot right over your heart, and his left hand wrapped around the back of your neck as his right wandered down between your legs.

He removed your underwear swiftly and started working you up with his fingers again, and you gasped when he slipped a thick finger inside you, then eventually two, taking his time to stretch you out. It felt indescribably good as he pumped them in and out of you, the rest of his fingers pressed against your clit, making your core flood with heat again.

You dug your nails into his back, but he didn’t seem to care, if anything it seemed maddening for him. You’d later distantly recall that he had ground himself against the mattress because of it, desperate for a tiny bit of relief, right before your second orgasm hit you.

Chest heaving, you lifted your hands to palm your sweaty face afterwards. “Holy hell Javi, you’re good at that.”

He smirked down at you, pleased with himself. “Think you’re ready now?”

You were already reaching for the waistband of his boxers, even though you’d barely recovered from your last high.

“Wanna answer the question, baby?” he inquired, though his eyes danced, amused by your enthusiasm.

You growled lowly. “You can bet I am.”

He helped you remove his boxers and when his cock sprung forth you ran a hand down its hard length, curious to know the feeling.

He bucked into your touch reflexively and you beamed at him almost wickedly, riding a high of confidence. “That feel good?”

“Will feel much better in a minute,” he hissed. “Lie back.”

You did as ordered and he fished a condom out of a tin box that was on his nightstand, rolling one on and lining himself up with your entrance within a matter of seconds.

He planted his lips against yours again and met your eyes. “You ready?” he murmured.

You nodded, though you tensed up immediately after, more so from anticipation than worry. You’d imagined this moment for so long, yet you still had no idea what to expect.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Javier said softly, having felt your muscles bunch up. “I’ve got you.” He braced himself with one arm over your head, and you took a calming breath as he used his other hand to guide his cock into you slowly, inch by inch.

You gasped from the intensity of him stretching you out, and you buried your hands into his hair to ground yourself, but there was no pain.

“You okay?” he asked, stilling for a moment as he kissed you, the hand above your head caressing your hair.

“Yes,” you whimpered. “You feel so good.”

Reassured, he slid even deeper inside you, and you gripped his shoulders tightly, snapping your eyes shut to focus on the feeling of his firm shaft dragging along your walls. You bit your lip again, and you wondered if it would be sore later, if other parts of you would also be sore. Not that you cared.

Your focus turned to Javier after he finally bottomed out in you with a raspy groan. “So tight, carino. You feel amazing.”

You moaned softly, loving the praise pouring out of his mouth, loving that he was enjoying this as much as you were. You curled a leg around his hip and made the first move, shifting your hips down and back up to meet his, causing an intense friction that made you both moan and inhale sharply.

He started to gently pump into you after, teeth skimming your jaw as he did, tongue tasting your skin here and there.

You watched him with half lidded eyes as he moved above you, gazed back down at you, eyes filled with heat, desire, and an unspoken love that made your heart soar. It wasn’t just sex you were participating in, there was a deep emotional connection involved too, one that had snuck up on you both.

Knowing that heightened your own desire, your need to reach your peak, and you sought a faster pace until he was matching you with full thrusts into you. Your sharp cries mixed with his low grunts, and you thought it was heavenly, especially when you realized your climax was nearing again.

“So close,” you hummed, eyes fluttering shut.

“Good,” he panted.

He surged into you one more time and you felt something inside you burst, making you fall apart. You felt like Jello after, limbs useless and mind lost in a haze of bliss.

Javier joined you after a couple more quick strokes, groaning loudly into your ear as he filled the condom. He nearly collapsed onto you as he came down, but managed to keep his weight off you as he shifted his focus to kissing your neck tenderly.

You weaved your fingers through his thick, unruly hair and smiled happily, basking in his affection.

“Everything you hoped for?” Javier inquired eventually, one of his hands coming up to brace your neck gently.

“And more,” you admitted, laughing. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never.” He pressed a kiss to your chin.

“You?” you asked. His satisfaction was as important to you as your own.

He caught your mouth with his briefly before answering. “You had nothing to worry about,” he told you, pulling out with a grunt after.

You whined at the loss of him, and he gave you a disastrously playful wink. “More later.”

You grinned, elated by how light his mood was, proud to be the cause. “Better be.”

He kissed you one more time then helped you pull off the covers of the bed and slip underneath the sheets. You’d both have to get up to clean yourselves later, but for the time being you curled up together instead, inhaling each other’s scents and taking comfort in each other’s arms.

And for the first time in your life, you understood what it felt like having someone who felt like home.

xxx

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#Javier Pena Fanfic (Mine)#Sweet Summer Series

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 2 months

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Sweet Dreams--Part 11

Calum and you have dance around reality for a few months now. But after Calum leaves and returns from a trip, the reality has to be confronted.

Weeks are passing and maybe more is blooming between you and Calum than might meet the eye.

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

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Melvin, reads the contact name. The 11 digits that follow stare back at you from the contact record of your phone. There’s never once been a text thread. His name wouldn’t come out on your phone outside of the contact in a search. But you had your distraction. You had your time to wallow and time to let pity make a fool of you. You can’t stay there. You refuse to stay there. So you tap the phone icon. It rings and rings. It might be a bad time, you realize now, as there’s no guarantee that Melvin will answer at ten in the morning. But that doesn’t matter much now.

Melvin answers the phone breathlessly. Your name tumbling from his lips in a rush. There’s concern in your name that paints his voice as he asks, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m calling to ask you that, actually,” you answer. The words nearly don’t leave your throat. He’d always been the easier of the two to interact with. He cared--you saw that with Teagan and Charlie. He seemed genuinely interested in your life when you spoke of it. But you didn’t think the care or the concern he had for your siblings would make him worry about you. Maybe now you’re even afraid of what that means.

“What-what are you referring to? Did something happen?”

You can’t get off track here. You’re calling about Diana. You’re calling to fact check the conversation from last week and to make sure they’re not drinking again. “Do Charlie and Teagan have new winter coats?”

“Uh, yes, they do. Diana and I--we got them nearly a week ago. There’s no guarantee now either that they don’t have another growth spurt, but we’re hopeful these coats will last the season and into the next.”

The more you talk with Melvin the more you realize Charlie got the gift of talking from him. At least Diana hadn’t been lying about the coats. But the bitter bite of her words rings back against your ears. “Diana called me last week,” you start. It’s the safest way to start.

The line crackles and you hear the sigh from Melvin. Something shuts--you hear the creak of hinges in the background. “I was worried when I saw the two ignored calls from you on her phone that something might’ve happened.”

“Is she drinking? Are you?”

“I’m not, no. God, no,” Melvin returns. His offense is palpable. He sounds as if the thought disgusts him.

“And what about Diana?”

A pause. Moments are passing by, the clock in your room ticking loudly as you listen to Melvin breathe. He better say no. He better answer with the same disgust. But the longer the two of you stay in silence, the more dread leadens in your gut. “I’m trying to get her some extra support,” he answers slowly. Like he might even be unsure of the words himself.

Not an outright denial but not an outright confession either. “Could it be vodka this time that gets her to her senses?” It’s a vile question to ask. But it falls and behind it comes more vitriol. That old wound, exposed again to the elements. “Could she go zero for three with her kids?”

“Enough,” Melvin commands. It falls clipped but tired. “We didn’t do right by you and we know that. We live with it every single day. We failed you in ways no child should’ve ever been failed by a parent. But it is not easy to watch from the sidelines now. And I don’t want to make it your responsibility to let us back in after what we’ve done, but please, do not mock us. The closer you get to Charlie and Teagan, the more hope grows in your mother. And the more you shut her down, the more she crumbles. It’s not your fault. She’s got to get better, face the consequences of her actions like we all must do. But she is human.”

“A terrible condition to be human, I’ve heard.” Your chest aches. It certainly still feels like your responsibility; it still certainly feels like that wound will never close up right. You still wish to every god that you could’ve had what Charlie and Teagan had. Wish you could move the stone of anger off your chest when it comes to Diana and Melvin. But you cried for them. You begged for them and it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough.

“Just, please give her grace. I’ll get her help. I will.”

“Grace is Charlie and Teagan. You can give her grace.”

“And what about you? Is there satisfaction in wrath?”

“Wrath is rather hollow.” You don’t know what you have anymore. There is something between contempt and regret filling you. Yet, you are tired of both of them. You’re tired of the wheel you feel stuck on. You’ve got to let it go. It’ll kill you if you don’t.

“We hurt you. I know that. It was easy at first to keep our distance. It gets harder now—sometimes. She just needs some extra help.”

“Then you get her help. But I don’t like knowing she’s on a spiral in the same house as Charlie and Teagan. They don’t deserve that pain. I will do whatever possible so they are not subjected to the same thing I was.”

“As you should,” Melvin agrees. “As you should. I’ve been worried about disrupting Charlie and Teagan’s routine too much. I don’t think the kids are catching on.”

You have to tread lightly. You can’t tell him that Teagan’s caught on, as unknowingly as she is about what she's stumbled upon. But you can warn him. “Children are more perceptive than you give them credit for. You can hope. But that’s not the same as the reality.”

“Was it Teagan? What did she hear?”

“I hope Diana’s kept up with bedtime stories.”

“Fuck,” Melvin whispers. You’d never be able not to answer his question. He’d hear what you’re saying between the lines. “I can’t lose them too.” It’s soft as Melvin says it, thick with emotions you can’t see, but can hear. A true terror shakes his voice.

Here you think is where you might reassure Melvin. That he won’t lose them. But you can’t promise that. You’d possibly be the hand that orchestrates it. You remain silent.

Melvin fills in the gap of silence in a flurry of panicked words. “There’s a birthday party this weekend and then a field trip next week. Please give me some time. You have every right to save them from the fate that fell you. But they’re just kids. They’ll only see what they lost out on. Give-give me just a little bit more time. If things are getting out of hand, let’s arrange something then. Okay? Just give me a few more weeks to get through to Diana.”

You only remember what you lost out on too. The dances you never attended, the nights spent hoping that your parents' breath didn’t reek in the morning. Praying you had just a little bit more attention so you could ask them about field trips, tell them about the things you were learning about in school. All you wanted was a crumb of attention, more than just the plate of food at dinner. You wished you could’ve told them about the crushes, the dreams you had--that maybe one day you’d been a veterinarian as all children hope to become. Maybe even then you could’ve told them how much you wanted to paint too.

You don’t know what’s more important, to save Charlie and Teagan from a potential fate or let them live their lives as children knowing what looms for them if Melvin is not successful. But they are just kids. They might hate you either way--if you pull them now, if you save them later. They’re just children. You don’t expect them to understand it all right now.

“You’ve got until of November.” October’s nearing its end in another week and a half. “But if I get wind of anything that even smells like Diana’s losing her grip, I’m taking them.”

“That’s only--”

“I know. And Christmas will be right behind that. But I’d rather they hate me for ruining Christmas than letting their lives be at further risk.” Doing good might mean at times having to be the villain. A spark never knows it’s going to start a wildfire, but you’re wiser than that ember. You know the damage that could be done. You know the damage you will do as well.

“End of November,” Melvin agrees. “I’ll, uh, we’ll have to come up with a contingency plan. I don’t know where you’re living these days. But I don’t want to pull them out of school.”

“We’ll figure something out,” you agree. Your hours at work will allow you to drop them off in the morning. But you’ll need help in picking them up in the afternoon. You wonder if Calum would be okay to do it. Though you don’t want to interrupt or commandeer his schedule either, you’ll still ask him. It’ll take a village to help now. You’ll need to figure out where they’ll stay. You have no qualms with them taking over your bedroom in the place you’re staying. But it couldn’t be a long standing agreement. You’d need to move and give them their own bedroom at the very least. You don’t have a lot saved, but you could afford a two bedroom apartment on your own now. The first few months would be tight, but it’d be doable now.

“Thank you,” Melvin nearly whispers. “I see how much you care for them.” The weight rounds your shoulders at his words. Is this what it means to be recognized—quiet and weighty recognition that feels like relief and lead?

Beyond a sense of duty, you only want for them what you didn’t get. Teagan and Charlie are getting everything you wanted. Watching out for them is everything you needed. They’re children who do not deserve to be punished for what was between your parents and you.

“It’s what they deserve,” you return. Melvin let’s you go and you blink up at the ceiling, swirling in your vision. You want them to be safe. You need it. But you still feel the whisper of Melvin’s gratitude. How it feels like thick humidity on your skin in the middle of summer. Your skin is hot and the tears caress your cheeks as they descend to your chin. As stupid as the thought feels,, you hope Melvin can find it in himself to be proud of you no matter what you wind up having to do.

_____________________

It’s bright--the windows to the right bring in streaks of sunlight and though Calum sometimes wishes he’d opted for a slightly lighter brown, there’s few clouds today which makes the shed feel lighter. The clear skies make the deepening chill tolerable. Your slippers rest on the floor right under the easel you sit in front of. Your socked feet tapping lightly against the metal bar on the stool you perch up on. The stroke of your brush scratches against the canvas--a deep red cutting through the top left corner.

Calum’s sure that even with your apron on the sleeves to his black and white striped long sleeved shirt will be stained forever. Not that he minds. He’d prefer to carry that little piece of you in the threads. He’ll be able to say that it’s your work if anyone asks about the stain. He’s supposed to be doing preliminary comments on this briefing. It’ll become part of the address he gives at the charity event in December, but given the magnetitude of the event it’s best to get started on these things earlier rather than later. Yet, he has no interest in the words on the document in front of him. He’d rather watch you as you gather more paint onto your brush. You stroke once, twice, and then reach for something else in the glass jar which holds other brushes and tools.

From this angle, Calum watches the twist of your lips, fingers fluttering over the jar. Debating, he concludes--you’re debating which tool to go for next. The bottom right part of the canvas is still blank. He traces the faint line you’ve etched into the white fibers. You’ve told him that you plan to include pages from several print media types--books, pamphlets, and missing posters-- layered and attached to the canvas. You don’t want to add those yet until all the painting is done and can cry before you glue them up there to keep bleeding minimal.

A knock sounds from the door and Calum turns to see his mum at the door, thanks to the addition of the glass cutouts in the door frame. He waves her in and she only opens the door just far enough for her head to poke through. “I don’t want to interrupt,” she starts. “Just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi, Mum. You’re not interrupting. They’ve got headphones in and I’m not really doing anything much myself,” Calum laughs.

She laughs, sliding in through the crack. “So only one of you is being productive. But that’s alright. Rest, too, is important.”

“Something like that.”

His mother nods and shuffles softly over to you. You turn at the touch on your shoulder, slipping your headphones down off your ears. “Hi, Joy,” you laugh.

The embrace is tight, even Calum can see how tightly his mother winds you into the one armed embrace. “The painting looks good, sweetheart. It’s coming together nicely,” Joy comments.

“Thanks, I’m trying over here.”

“You’re succeeding. How was the feedback from the check-in?”

“They’re excited. They did ask to see what printed materials I’m using for the piece and said they were a little outdated. But they replied with some other books and materials that are more updated and relevant to their mission I could use. It was constructive at the end of it,” you explain.

“And those pages are going here, yeah?” Joy asks, pointing to the blank corner.

“Yeah, they are,” you nod.

“Okay, okay. I’m excited to see where it goes. I hope you’re proud of the work you’ve put in.”

“I think I am. For right now. I’m sure once I start painting in the gold details it’s going to kick my ass again,” you laugh.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. It looks good.”

“Thanks, Joy. And I finished off the last of those beets.”

“Oh, good, good. I was wondering. Did you roast them again?”

You nod. “Easiest way for me to get through them. But they were really good. Better than store bought.”

Joy’s laugh is loud, taking a firmer grip on your shoulder and tugging you into her. “You wouldn’t be attempting to butter me up, would you?”

“I’d never attempt such a thing. I always succeed.”

The shed falls into a round of laughter, even a round of small snickers from Calum as he unabashedly watches the two of you. Joy never falters, squeezing one more time at your shoulders. “Succeed, you do, I’ll admit. Don’t tell Calum though.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Hmm, well, I guess I’ll leave you to work. Need anything?”

“No,” you return with a small shake of your head. “I’ve got everything.”

“Good.” Joy presses a kiss to your forehead and then steps away.

Calum watches the way you linger, still pushed forward into where her embrace once was, like you might chase behind her. But you don’t. You lean back and put the headphones back on. But there was a pause. Long enough for Calum to see it. And he knows--or at the very least figures--what that pause means. How much you get from the small interactions with his mother. He’d be glad if you did steal his mother, as you called it, if it means that you were getting the pieces of what you’d missed.

And it’s only a moment--the briefest of pauses. The headphones are settled back on and pick up your paints again. Joy slides into the bench next to Calum and nods in your direction.

“Everything okay?”

“With them?” Calum clarifies, pulling the top of his laptop down as he sits up a bit straighter.

“Yeah. With them. You’ve been a little tight lipped lately. If it’s not something you can share I get it. Just want to make sure of course.”

Calum looks back over to you. Your foot’s tapping again, the brush ever so gently scratching over the canvas again. You’d been tight lighted about it too to some degree. The only thing Calum has is that you asked if need be, could he help pick up Charlie and Teagan from school. He agreed that he could. Considering that sessions were closing in another two weeks for the holidays until January, his free time was considerably much larger than usual. And even if you needed help once sessions resumed, he’d always be able to take a recess whenever Charlie and Teagan were almost done with school to get them.

He’s not sure what’s caused you to ask this--if you’re planning something for Charlie and Teagan, but the alternative is much more sinister. Calum turns back to his mother and she’s only watching. Her fingers are wrapping around his and he exhales. “We’re okay. But something might be happening with Charlie and Teagan. I don’t know.”

“What makes you think that?”

“They asked if I could pick them up from school in the afternoons.”

Understanding crosses her face, brows rising before she looks your way. “Parents drinking again?”

Calum shrugs at the question, but tightens his hold around his mother’s hand. He felt more comfortable telling his mother more about your situation than his dad. She was a bit more careful with what information she was given. “If anyone, it’s probably Diana. But they haven’t said anything to me. Not yet anyways.”

“Will their current living situations support Charlie and Teagan?”

“Temporarily, I’m sure. But not long term, I don’t think.”

Joy hums and it’s a sound that Calum knows well. Her wheels are turning. “Well, we shouldn’t assume. But if they need help relocating, we can help. If not here, then wherever they feel most comfortable being of course.”

“We will. We will,” Calum agrees.

The conversation between you two had been short--that you needed a plan in place should you need it. Only as he rethinks through the conversations, does he think it was confirmation. I just need to have a plan, sooner rather than later. He should’ve pressed more about it, he thinks. But he does trust you. If there’s anything he needed to know, you’d tell him. But that doesn’t mean Calum can easily swallow down his desire to help. Yet, trust is the only way any of this will work. Choosing you means choosing trust.

“How’s the garden going?” Calum asks.

“It’s all mostly harvested. But good.”

“Any new recipes you think you’ll try?”

Joy laughs, patting at Calum’s hand. “Oh, no, not this time around. Gave it to the staff mostly. But if you are interested, I could always use a second pair of hands for the spring planting. We can put something together.”

Calum knows that dance--dangerous as it is. He laughs. “Do you need some help right now?”

“Oh, no, no, I came out here just to say hi to the two of you. Feels like I haven’t talked to my boy properly in a few weeks.”

Calum waves her in, arms opening for a hug. “Love you, Mum,” he whispers into the embrace.

“Love you too.”

Calum remains until she lets go first and when she does, he slides back into this original spot. “It's been rather boring lately if I’m honest.”

“Hmm, nothing from the boys either?”

Calum shakes his head at the question. “Nothing that I’ve heard. Well, there is Michael’s birthday next month”

“Yes, yes, his mother was talking to me today about that. She said he’s just doing dinner?”

“That’s what he said he’d prefer. Ashton, Luke, and I are still working out the details and getting a table reserved.”

“Do you know who I talked to recently?” Joy asks. She grins as she speaks, a little bop to her head as well. It’s good news then.

“Who did you talk to recently, Mum?” Calum laughs.

“Do you remember Ms. Brenda, Joshua’s mum?”

Calum nods. He still keeps in contact with Joshua from time to time. It’s not nearly as frequent as Luke, Michael, or Ashton. But Joshua and Calum were thick as thieves as kids on the time. “I remember Ms. Brenda.”

“She told me Joshua is proposing at Christmas.”

Calum whistles. Joshua had told him that he was dating seriously and they were moving in. That was only a few months ago, maybe almost a year, but not more than that. “Wow. God, we are really growing up, huh?”

“Oh, god, you can say that again,” Joy laughs. “When’s the last time you talked to Joshua anyway?”

Calum had texted Joshua a few weeks ago, mostly to say he hoped Joshua was doing well and Joshua replied with his usual, hanging in there by my toes, but hanging. As they’d gotten older Joshua moved away from football. In high school, he’d gotten a little gig to help out at home. But he didn’t talk about it much and since, Joshua mentioned he’s swapped from trade work to an office job. But the conversations were filled more with jokes and laughter than catching up on their lives.

Calum shrugs a little. “A few weeks ago. He said he was doing alright, but not this alright to be proposing. Has Ms. Brenda given up her banana bread recipe?”

“No,” Joy laughs. “But I’m going to get it from her eventually.”

“One of these days,” Calum teases. “If I get any more updates from the boys, I’ll be sure to share. As long as you share too.”

Joy holds up her hands, one at her chest. “Swear it,” she grins.

“The holidays are coming up soon too. I’m sure they’ll have some juicy stories then. ”

“Never fails,” Joy hums. “Anything you want? While we’re on the topic of the holidays.”

The question does make Calum ponder. There’s nothing that he wants that he thinks could be given by his parents. His gaze falls back to you. The sun cascades down around you, propped in the almost perfect center of the room. It's a small floor plan to begin with--the shelves help give storage without sacrificing the too much square footage. But finding a good place to put the easel for you really only had a few places to go--along one of the walls that was taken up by the bench and table or go into the center. But it’s nice to have your work at the center. What Calum really wants is time with you, time where you don’t have to worry about anything, where nothing is hanging over your head.

“Something that I could get would be ideal,” Joy laughs.

Calum snorts. There’s no embarrassment about being caught. “Can I take a rain check on that question then?”

“Absolutely, son. Absolutely. But besides the stuff with their parents, you two are okay, right?”

Calum regards his mother. The grays are prominent and continue to grow more so as the years pass in her hair. She shares a nearly identical cut to Calum’s though her sides are cut nearly as close as his. Calum had teased his mother when she first cut it that she was copying him. Joy never denied it. Just hugged Calum in tight and laughed. It’s going to destroy him when he can’t get one of those hugs--bone crushing and warm. Calum wonders if he’ll ever be able to recover from such a loss like that--death or not. He doesn’t know how you do it. How you’ve survived this long, but you do. He’s glad that for the time being the both of you can get soul warming hugs from his mother.

Because she’s real and present and looking back at him with the same concern she used to direct his way when he’d talk about a bad day at school. But instead of feeling like a child, instead of feeling small, he finds himself proud that he looks back into his mother’s face and knows that he’s got nothing to hide, that he can put it out on the table and she will always be there for him. He’s a little scared, how much he feels and how much of him is so willing to take the risk to get hurt again.

“We’re okay,” Calum answers. “I told them about Nora though.”

Joy whistles, brows rising at the news. “How’d that go?”

“Better than expected.” He’d prepared for the day he told you about Nora. How it might send you into a panic or even worse might cause an argument given how some that hurt still lingers, how he still mourns what could’ve been while discovering how much of the desire isn’t broken or gone with you. But thankfully it didn’t. For all that could’ve happened, nothing bad did.

“How do you feel about that? Now that it’s out there?” Joy asks, reaching for his hand again.

Calum shrugs, gazing back up as a shadow passes. A few birds flying overhead, he assumes. “It feels like I’m hiding less things now. Like I can be human with them more. But it’s hard. I-” His throat jumps. Fear he can place as it thumps in his veins. “I love them. But the last time I loved someone like this…” The words are catching. He wants to get them out but the emotion seizes his throat.

“It ended poorly. I know, I know,” she whispers in return. Both her hands wrap around Calum’s left hand.

“Yeah. But it’s so strange. To know that this all falling apart is still a possibility but not caring as much. All I find myself focused on is what I can still experience. Like even if it does have to end, and I don’t. I really don’t want that. But if it has too, I don’t want regrets on the table.”

“Well, that sounds like something to me. Like you know what you want,” Joy returns. “Sounds like you know what’s worth taking the risks for, which in turn, means you don’t have regret.”

Calum notices the hand retreating now from his space. A bottle of water rests onto the table, on the coasters you insisted on having for the shed. “It’s a good thing I don’t have plans on leaving. I’m right here, love,” you whisper against his cheek before pressing a kiss to the stubble he knows he needs to shave.

Calum takes his free hand and tugs you back when you go to step away. Your legs hit the edge of the bench with a stop thump. There’s red and gold paint on the end of the sleeves decorating the threads. Your fingers are stained too, but that doesn’t make Calum hesitate as he threads his fingers through yours. “You’re supposed to be painting.”

“I took a hydration break,” you laugh. He spies now the second bottle of water in your hand that’s now being lowered to the table. With your second hand free, you reach into the pocket of your apron and unearth a clean rag and drape it over his shoulder. “For any snot.”

Calum laughs, head dropping into your stomach. “If we’re keeping score about who’s cried the most, I think you’ve got me beat.”

“I’m a water hose, sue me.” You press a kiss to the top of Calum’s head though.

The paint is tacky against Calum’s fingers. His skin will be stained red and gold too, but it doesn’t matter. He drags his thumb over yours, a soothing action back and forth. You are there. You are just within reach. “I won’t,” Calum answers. Your hum is reassurance coupled with the squeeze of your hand.

Calum takes a deep inhale, attempting to commit to memory the way you smell in his clothes. The smell of paint powering over everything and yet, there is something so deeply you at the root of it--fresh like how clean linen smells. He tries to only take a minute or two, knowing that you’ll probably draw back first to head back to your painting. But you stay in the embrace.

“You two hungry by chance?” Joy asks. “I’ll go fix us something.”

Calum nearly tells her that she doesn’t have to go. But she’s giving his one hand one last squeeze as she slips out from behind the table. Joy gives your shoulder a squeeze and then slips out the door; it shuts softly behind her. You stand, towering over Calum. But he pulls you even closer into him, hands winding around your waist.

“You’re going to have paint all over your face,” you laugh.

“I don’t care.”

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah. Just…I love you, that’s all.”

“I love you too.” The return is even and quick. You ease him out of his embrace and Calum looks back up at you. “Is now an appropriate time to make an inappropriate joke about why I’m not leaving you?”

“No,” Calum laughs. “Now is not the time for an inappropriate joke, but thank you for asking.”

The cap on the water releases with ease and you pour a little bit of your bottle onto the rag. The touch is tender as you swipe it over Calum’s cheek and forehead. “You’ll let me know when I can, right?”

“Yeah, of course. The world needs all your inappropriate jokes.” Your work is steady on his cheek, one hand holding ever so gently against his chin. “Sorry to interrupt your hydration break.”

“Not an interruption at all,” you laugh. “How’s the speech coming along?”

Calum gingerly tugs at the rag in your hand. “You see how that laptop is closed?” You nod. “That’s how well it’s going. I don’t even need to worry.”

“Or are you too distracted?”

“Some might say those are the same.”

“Yeah, all people named Calum Hood,” you snort, before taking a sip from your bottle. Your gaze is steady. But Calum can see it, the question brewing behind your eyes. “Would I be correct in assuming that I’m the first person since Nora?”

There it is. Calum doesn’t even need to ask what you heard. “You are.” He’s sure it’s more obvious than needed but at least you asked.

“I know I can’t promise not to break your heart. But I’d like to politely ask for the space to prove to you I’m not her.”

Calum knows you’re not her. It’s not even a comparison of people, just a comparison of situations. He’s right where he was before. And it’s all different than it was before. Less tense, more space to converse and to be. But he’s scared. He doesn’t want to fall on his face again, doesn’t want the person he cares about most taken away from him. “Since when do you have a polite bone in your body?”

“Since my sarcastic timing isn’t always well loved. And I know that’s rich coming from me, considering everything I’ve done and yet to tell you. However, still, I wanted you to know that I want this relationship with you.”

Calum knows that on an intellectual level. But it’s nice to hear the words again. “Thank you.” It feels too small a phrase for what he means. Because what he means to say is that you are right--you and Nora are two different people. These are two different relationships. But the fear has a strong hold. What he means to say is the sound of you saying that you want him makes his stomach knot, makes his toes curl, makes Calum feel like a kid again in the most innocent of ways. What he means to say is that he never wants to forget that, but he knows he’s human. So he will forget, but please always remind him.

The kiss to his forehead is wet, no doubt to the water on your lips, but gentle. “I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear.”

If he could have you say it all the time, he would. But Calum revels in the whisper of your voice even as you slip away. He knows you’re in a bit of a time crunch. The paint will need plenty of time to dry so you’re trying to get through this with enough time to spare. He lets you go, promising him to himself that he’s going to spend the entirety of the night having you say it again and again how much you want him.

“Baby,” he calls out, just before the headphones cover up your ears.

“Yes, my love?” you ask, turning on the stool.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

“You’re glad it’s me?”

Calum nods. “Yeah, I’m glad it’s you.” He’s not sure if you understand, if you’ll get what he’s saying. But he is glad it’s you. Someone that got to know him from the ground up, someone that he got to know out of pure interest. He’s glad you’re who you are and that the two of you have this. Truly, what other ways can he say it? He’s just really glad it’s you.

You smile, headphones covering your ears, but you’re still facing him. “I’m glad it’s you too.”

______________________________

The heat from the oven grazes your arms as you slip the tray onto the rack. The orange pumpkins dyed into the white dough smile back at you--gaps between their carved teeth. You hope it’s not too much--that you’re coming over with a basket of things for what might be a pretty small holiday. But you are curious--has Mevlin made progress with Diana? Charlie makes no mention of noticing anything strange. Teagan hasn’t tipped you off that more things are happening out of the ordinary. It looks as though things might be on the up and up. Yet, you know looks can and will be deceiving. Its hardly been a week but the anxiety is gnawing on your innards—a feast for it and starvation for you.

With ease you wind the white timer for 10 minutes and set it down onto the counter. The ticking seconds are background noise for you cutting persistently through the crackle of plastic as you tear open the package of black tissue paper. The orange plastic pumpkin mirror the cookies--blackness around their gaped teeth, a hollow but practiced smile. You line the bottom of the buckets with a couple sheets and then start to toss in the socks, and stickers. They get a book to color in each, a fresh pack of coloring pencils, and Halloween pins for jackets or backpacks. Charlie gets one in the shape of a ghost and you slip a bat theme pin packet in for Teagan.

The candy waits in big bags--an unfortunate reality that you’d waited a little too long to get the smaller bags for the occasion but Calum promises to help when you get back to divvy up the remaining lollipops, chocolate, and other sweets into bags for people on staff and their children too considering he’d gotten a hefty amount of the remaining bags as well when he accompanied you on your errand run for the baskets. Teagan likes the sweeter stuff and Charlie’s a big fan of chocolate. So you slide a bag of the respective kind of candy in front of each one of the brackets for them.

“Oh my god, a ghost,” Declan laughs, sliding in next to you at the kitchen island.

“Boo,” you smile in return.

“You know that you and the Prince are both adults? I didn’t suspect the two of you to be into Halloween this hard.”

“These are for my siblings,” you return.

Declan pauses, hands having stretched out towards the back of Snickers, Reeses, Almond Joys and other chocolates. “Oh. Well, that makes a lot more sense. Need help?”

You know you don’t. There’s only the candy left aside of their bags of cookies that you’ll be putting together after they cook and cool. “If you’re truly that bored, sure,” you offer.

It’s an easy out, a way for Declan to slide into the bench at the table and take a load off before he works. Dinner will most likely be starting soon and you’re hoping that your timing hasn’t interrupted Declan’s work. He started to take weekend dinner shifts most often. “I’ve got time. Just vouch for me if Janet chews out my ass.”

“I hope I’m not in the way. The cookies only have like another 8 minutes or so and I will always vouch for you if Janet comes.”

“You’re not in the way,” Declan answers, but takes the bag into his grasp and pulls it open.

You slide him a few more sheets of black tissue paper. “I was trying to time between shifts,” you offer.

“You timed it well. How much candy am I giving your dear old sibling? Whole bag? Half?”

“No more than half? They’ll be going trick-or-treating this weekend too.”

Declan laughs, reaching into the bag for a handful. “Oh, your parents are going to hate you for all this extra sugar.”

“Perhaps that’s the point.” Perhaps, you’re adding fuel to a forest fire. But you’ll add it. You shimmy a few extra packets of the nerds into the bucket.

“Are they still super young? Your siblings, I mean.” Declan tips the bucket in your direction a little for you to get a better view. “Too much or too little?”

You peer onto the bucket. It’s not empty, but it does look a little sparse. “Tiny bit more if you don’t mind. And they’re still in elementary school. Nine and seven.”

“And you’ve never talked about them before because?”

You didn’t know about them before. You were terrified of what it meant. There’s a small part of you that feels vindicated. You knew something would happen with your parents involved. You knew that if you got too close you’d wind up in a mess. But god, there’s a larger part hoped you’d been wrong.

“It’s complicated,” you answer. “My parents and I aren’t close. But I am trying to be there for my siblings at the very least. They’re important to me.”

“Well, I--should it matter in the slightest-- think you’re killing it. This enough?”

You take a peek into the bucket. There’s enough candy that you know Melvin will be dealing with wrappers and sugar highs for at least a week. You nod. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime.”

“How-how are things with you?”you ask. There’s a bit of hesitation. The timer ticks around you and with the baskets full, including the extra bits of tissue paper tucked in, there’s still something that lingers. Something that you don’t want to fall flat with Declan--like you know how friends do.

Declan shrugs. “They’re going.”

The shrills interrupts what you think might’ve been on his tongue. Declan turns, kitchen towel already fall off his waist as he tugs on it. “Just going?”

“These extra shifts are a little bit killer, but they’re helping pay off the work I had to get done to my car, so it’s all evened out.”

“What happened to your car?”

“Brakes needed to be replaced, and new tires.”

You hiss at the answer, watching Declan slide the tray onto the aisle. The cookies are a golden color now around the edges--perfectly cooked. “At the same time?”

He nods. “Same time. I could’ve done the brakes myself but they were closing in on being dangerously thin. I was already going to have to go in for the tires so I just tacked on the brakes and figured I’d work out the money later. Was not the smartest financial decision, but it was either taking two days off from work or just one. I need my remaining PTO for the holidays.”

“Your sister’s graduation right?” He’d mentioned it once to you before but hadn’t really talked about it since.

Declan nods. “Yeah.” It comes slow. And you’re not sure what’s causing his hesitation but he laughs with a shake of his head. “I shouldn’t be shocked you remember that.”

“Yet you are, you jerk.”

“Credit where credit is due. My apologies.”

“What is your sister studying?”

“Data Analytics. She’s got a job lined up too once she graduates.”

A feat you know given the current landscape. A whistle leaves you. “A whiz, I see.”

“Just don’t let her hear that.”

“Promise,” you laugh.

“Her plan is to move out in another two years time, I think,” Declan offers. “Of course it all depends on how the market stabilizes."

“Do you know if she is looking for roommates? Could help her a little bit but it comes with its own risks of course.”

Declan shrugs. “I’d offer for her to move in with me. I know our parents are going to be a little overbearing, but it’s not cool to move in with your older brother and his roommate. But I did at least tell her that if she’s interested in my complex, to let me know. I’m only a ten minute drive from our parent’s place so she’d still be close enough to them too.”

“Sounds like that’ll be nice if it works out.”

“Time will only tell in the end. Things still going good at the new job? You sure you don’t want to come back to us?”

It’s a tease and you can tell by the way he bats his lashes. But even just the offer makes your heart leap. You think you’d take this job back in a heartbeat if you could. But Forest has its perks. There was a reason why you had to leave. “It’s good. It’s a lot more hectic than here on average. But pays the bill. Health insurance is a small step down but not that I needed more than yearly check ups for anything.”

“Good health is a fountain of wealth in the end,” Declan returns. “I’m glad it’s going well. I think Val said she tried to pop in but didn’t see you.”

“I’m back of house right now. Until I get licensed to bartend. When that happens I’ll be on the front a bit more.”

He nods, a hum falling from his throat. “Sounds like the place is still stretched thin though.”

More than a handful of times you’ve heard runners complain about how many shifts they’ve been asked to cover. The kitchen staff is pretty solid. It’d come up as you worked more than the person you took over for left because of needing to move back home for family needs. But Turner seemed to still be struggling to retain servers. You were sure that she’d train you up by now but perhaps the concerns you voiced about your relationship with Calum were keeping her from getting you onto that boat. Though, once you got on the bar you’d undoubtedly have to learn tables too.

“It is,” you agree after a meaty pause. “But it’s not so much that I think I’m getting screwed over. I guess. I know my time will come once I move to the bar.”

“Does it make you nervous at all? To move to the floor? Given your relationship, I mean.”

“Makes Calum more nervous than me. But seeing what I have of the bartenders right now, I’d run food and take care of those right at the bar. Right now, it’s like a bridge that I can’t see enough to worry about if I'll have to cross it or not.”

You slide over to the cookies, testing the temperature with your finger. They feel cool enough and you gingerly wiggle them loose from the sheet. Declan slides you two plastic bags. “I guess in some ways it’s like not trying to stress yourself out twice about things,” Declan states.

“Yeah,” you nod. You seal up the last four cookies for Charlie. Two more remain on a piece of paper towel. Declan takes the sheet and moves it to the sink. “Oh, I can wash it.”

With a pointed stare, Declan turns on the water and squeezes a bit of dish soap onto the sheet. “What was that? I can’t hear you over the water,” he shouts.

You’re not sure what you expected but when he’s done, you toss him one of the remaining cookies, hoping he doesn’t drop it but hoping just a little that it tumbles. Declan catches it with ease. “For all your hard work,” you return.

He snorts. “Thanks.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, anytime as long as I get fed cookies at the end of it.”

The door to the kitchen opens, you catch the movement from your peripheral and look up from Declain. Calum peeks his head through the door. “Ready, baby?”

“Yeah, I just finished up.” You offer Declan the second cookie as well. He waves it off.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll see you around.”

“I’m not going to eat it,” you laugh and Declan huffs before plucking the sugar cookie from your fingers.

“You owe me,” he calls out around his bite. “I need advice on what to get my sister for her graduation present.”

“Call me. I’ll help. But you can’t go wrong with money.”

“Aye, yeah, I thought about that. But I want to do something more personal. As the oldest, I can do better than that.”

The bags of candy rattle in your grasp as you slip the shopping bag they’re in on your wrist. The two baskets are wrapped securely into the curve of your fingers from the plastic handles. You get Declan’s concerns. The pride in his voice makes you realize perhaps you’re less alone than you felt with Charlie and Teagan’s situation.

You nod at Declan. “We’ll cook up something. Be thinking about what she likes or what she needs. Text me whatever you think of and then we’ll grab coffee or something to solidify a plan.”

“Thank you,” Declan grins. “You’re a life saver.”

“Don’t I know it,” you laugh over your shoulder. Calum steps in closer, his fingers brushing over your wrist as he takes the Target bag with the leftover candy.

“Shut up. No one told you to brag about it.”

Calum holds the door open for you. “Sorry I couldn’t help with the baskets. But it looks like you still had some help around.”

“Don’t worry. I know you had other obligations. Declan sort of forcefully helped out. In a way.”

“Declan has a sister?” Calum questions. “Didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, he does. She graduates university in December.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I didn’t realize Declan was old enough for a sister graduating uni.”

“He’s 27. So not that much older.”

The lights on Calum’s truck light up briefly and you two slip inside. You’re not sure what you’re about to head into. Though you hope it’s good news, there’s dread in the bottom of your stomach. Calum doesn’t know. You only asked if he could help pick up Charlie and Teagan from school. But he doesn’t know.

“When’s your next day off again, baby?” Calum asks. You were off today--having spent most of that time doing laundry and cleaning out your car. But then came by after were done so that both you and Calum could go over to your parent’s place--at Charlie’s request that Calum come.

“Uh, next Tuesday, I think,” you return. “I have to look at the schedule again.” You take a picture of it when it gets posted. You can only imagine what haunts you in the photo album of your phone should you ever go back through it more thoroughly.

“When you do, can you let me know? Next month we’ll need to schedule a fitting for outfits to the auction and banquet. It’ll be pretty straight forward for me. But I know they’ll want to do your measurements, talk about what you’re comfortable wearing and show you some pieces. It’s….going to be a lot. But it won’t take the whole day.”

That part you hadn’t considered. Though you were still working on the painting religiously in the evenings, the banquet was being pushed further and further down on your list of concerns. Having to actually go was a dream, or perhaps you held onto some delusion that you wouldn’t have to go. Though you definitely did. “I’ll let you know,”you return.

“I’ll be there, the entire time,” Calum promises, a hand on your knee. “It’s really not bad. If you want, we can sit down together and look at stuff to help you prepare. Brands, maybe colors, silhouettes and such.”

“That would be nice.”

“Of course, baby. I’d be happy to.”

The first part of the journey is smooth, the tires gliding down the road. Calum seems to find a sense of content with his hand on your knee, a gentle gliding up to the middle of your thigh and then a slide back down. Rhythmic in a way that you’re partially sure it’s not conscious. It feels unbothered, unworried in a way that only the subconscious is capable of doing. And the longer his palm slides along your denim cladded knee, the longer you think about the mess Calum could be walking into. He might already suspect, but it is still your responsibility to be transparent, to tell him what’s going on in your life even if it’s hard, even if it’s tiring.

“I want to say thanks,” you start, capturing Calum’s free hand for a moment to give it a squeeze. “For agreeing to help me with my siblings. I do know I need to explain what’s going on right now. It’s just hard—I guess it’s also shame. But Teagan noticed that Diana missed tucking her in a few nights back in August or so. And things just sorted to feel off with how pushy she started to get. Melvin confirmed a couple weeks ago that she’s drinking again.”

Calum hisses, his hand squeezing against your knee. “I am so sorry, baby. That’s so awful.”

“Melvin asked for some time to get her more help. He’s worried about disrupting too much of Charlie and Teagan’s schedule. I gave him until the end of next month to make progress with her. But if she’s not better, I’m taking them in for a little bit.”

“Outside of pickup from school, what other help do you need? I-there’s-whatever you need, I want to help.”

You know Calum’s being careful. You can hear how much might be behind those words. “We might need a room at the palace if that’s okay. I don’t know how suitable my room is long term. Until my lease is finished and I find a two bedroom apartment.”

“We have space. That’s not a problem.”

Your cheeks are warm. He says it so easily like he doesn’t have to think. And some in ways he probably doesn’t have to. But the deep pressure of his hold tells you that he means it deeply. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m really sorry that this is happening. To them. To you all over again in a way. All three of you deserve so much better. But I think you’re doing what you might’ve wished someone did for you. And that in and of itself is incredibly powerful.”

The tears burn. You watch the way the highway signs wave in their wake. It’s not exactly what you’d want, though maybe in your younger years you did wish someone to save it before it started. And you can be that light. You can be the hero that your siblings need, even if they’ve never wanted for one. “I just hope they don’t hate me.”

“I can sympathize with that fear, baby. They’re kids right now. They maybe won’t get it immediately. But when they get older, you can explain more. And maybe you and Melvin find a way to frame it so it doesn’t seem so bad right now and they don’t take it so hard. And I hope they don’t hate you either. I can’t say they won’t. But Charlie and Teagan seem like kids that would at the very least listen.”

You hope. You’d beg of the universe that Charlie and Teagan at the very least listen to you, understand that you don’t want to make any changes to their lives unless it’s to improve it. But they are just kids. Temporary displeasure for more stable and permanent change seems like a fair price to pay, but you know they’ll take years to see it that way.

“I hope,” you return softly, sniffling back the snot that threatens to slip down your cupid's bow. “I hope.”

Calum motions to the glove box. “Tissues if you need them. But I’m here. Mum is too. So is Dad. You’ve got people in your corner. I’ll talk to security and we can get Charlie and Teagan set up so they’re safe and they have a nice place to hang out. We’ll create a plan so that they’re always on time to school and picked up and for any after school activities they’re in as well. All hope is not lost.”

Hope is not lost. Just beaten and maybe a little battered. “You sure you still want to be with me?” you tease, taking out the small pouch of tissues from the glovebox.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. But I am going to make sure Charlie and I have the best jack-o-latern on the block, so be prepared for that.”

“Not if Teagan and I have the best one.”

“Oh, game on, baby. I hope your mouth is not writing checks you can’t cash.”

“All my checks are good.”

Calum gives a disapproving hum but risks a glance in your direction. “We’ll see about that. We’ll see. Is it this exit or the next one?”

“Next one,” you answer. “Once you got off, I’ll help more.”

“Next one. Got it. Thanks.”

“No, thank you.”

The front of the house is dark when you arrive. There’s no lights bleeding through the curtains. There’s no flutter or wide swinging of the door as you and Calum ascend the stairs. You’re not sure what this means and from what you can see there is at least one car in the driveway at the very least. There were two--a car for Dian and Melvin each. But you’re not sure who drives what. It feels a little pointless to knock on the door, but you do so anyway. It sits unanswered for a minute or two.

Calum’s hand rests gingerly in the dip of your lower back. “Want to try the door bell?”

It feels silly to think you haven’t had to use the doorbell in months. But you wait a moment more and then reach for it. The toll rings out, so much so that even you hear it from behind the closed door. The seconds pass and you don’t hear anything. Melvin had told you to come at this time. You worried nothing had happened in the meantime but a few seconds later you catch a faint call, “Coming, coming!”

Melvin smiles as he opens the door. There’s light but from deeper in the house, from the kitchen you think. The front of the house is dark. “Uh, we’re in the backyard,” he notes, pushing his glasses back up on his face.

You nod and step inside. “Okay.”

“That’s cute,” he comments, pointing down to the buckets in your hand. “For Charlie and Teagan?”

“Uh, yeah. There’s a lot of sugar as a warning.”

“To be expected,” he laughs. “Just head straight back. I’ve got to run upstairs and I’ll be right back down in a minute.”

Calum slides in around you, giving Melvin a passing greeting before taking a couple steps further ahead of you. You watch Melvin though, as he ascends the stairs one hand on the railing. He moves quietly though you distinctly remember the sixth step always having a little bit of a squeak to it. So far, there’s no Diana. Not that you can see but you know you’re staring too much when you notice just how Melvin skips over the second noisiest step too.

“Ready?” Calum questions.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you return and then catch up. “It’s just this way.” You lead Calum deeper into the house, past the living room and kitchen to the sliding glass doors. Charlie and Teagan sit at the wooden bench in the backyard, two pumpkins resting already on the table on top of newspaper. The big kitchen trashcan sits outside--ready and lined with the black garbage bag.

The two turn at the sound of the door sliding in the grooving, faces immediately brightening up when they spot you and Calum. Teagan slides out and rushes up the porch steps. “Hi!” she laughs colliding into your lower body.

“Hi,” you laugh in return.

Charlie follows up behind his own cheer leaving his throat. You wrap him up in a hug as well. But as you do, you pause. He’s hitting the middle of your stomach now, and creeping towards your chest maybe. Just a few weeks ago he was maybe just starting to hit your waist. But now you feel it in your bones. In the next couple of years, you’ll be looking him directly in his eye. It would break your heart for it to be sooner, but the longer you take in the extra inches, you think it might be sooner.

“You’re getting so tall,” you marvel.

Charlie laughs. “Yeah, I guess so. The basketball coach asked me if I’d considered joining the sport last week.”

“No more baseball?” Calum questions, slinging his arm around Charlie’s shoulders.

“Never giving up on that. But I might consider basketball too. If they don’t share the same season schedule.”

You know you shouldn't be shocked. It’s supposed to happen. They’re supposed to grow up. But as Charlie collects his basket full of goodies and carries on back to the table, you find yourself still in awe of how much he’s grown. They won’t be little forever--a terrifying thought to have. But they still laugh, digging into the baskets for their first pick of candy.

“We’re supposed to wait,” Charlie notes, warning Teagan of some previous agreement. You think you hear somewhere in there where his voice cracks too. Maybe it’s just in your thoughts. There’s no way he could be headed towards puberty young. You didn’t.

She huffs, but places the box of Nerds back onto the table. “You could let me slide.”

“No, Dad said to wait, so we wait.”

“Where is Dad anyway?” Teagan questions. Her gaze falls behind you back towards the house but when she doesn’t seem to garner enough for an answer she looks back to you. “You going to help me destroy Charlie and Calum from over there?”

The shock glued your feet. You hadn’t made it from the bottom of the steps of the porch but you soldier on and settle onto the bench next to her. “No, sorry. Any ideas on what you want to do with this here pumpkin?” you ask with a slap to the side. It’s a dull thud, but the gourd is still firm under the weight of your hand.

She nods, reaching for a stack of papers. “I drew up some ideas at lunch. Which one do you think is best?”

As you begin shuffling through Teagan’s ideas, you can catch the murmur of Calum and Charlie discussing too. For a brief moment, you lock in again on Charlie’s voice. There’s nothing there, not another crack. It’s enough that you think you could convince yourself that you imagined the earlier sound. But you know it’s a fruitless wish. So you zero back in on the four sketches--one has furrowed brows and though the brows aren’t quite even in the drawing, you do like the added touch. You slide it out towards her. “I like this one.”

“That was my first choice. But I liked this one too a lot.” She reaches for the drawing with the word, Boo written in a speech bubble out from the pumpkin’s mouth.

You look back up to her pumpkin. Charlie’s chosen pumpkin is shorter and wider, which you think would fit the words a bit more. But Teagan’s pumpkin is much taller and a tad bit narrower. The word would inevitably wrap around the side. “I think given the pumpkin you’re working with this one is the best bet,” you return, holding the picture in your hand up a little bit more. “The pumpkin’s a bit too narrow for the word. But if you really want it, we can try to make it work.”

Teagan holds the design up to the pumpkin, eyes flickering up and down from the picture to the pumpkin, around the edges of it. “I think you’re right.”

“Save that one for next year, if you want. Then we can make sure you get the right size pumpkin for it.”

“There’s also the tiny pumpkins we’re going to paint too today,” Teagan begins, “so I’m sure I can use that design on one of them.” She points to the side of the table you’re at but there’s nothing a top of the table so you look down and spot a collection of six mini pumpkins waiting.

“Oh, yeah, that works too.”

The four of you wait for another minute or two, but you can see how antsy Teagan and Charlie are getting. They fidget near their boxes of candy and near the tools assembled on the table for carving. Melvin made it sound like it would only take a minute or two. It settles into your gut that Diana’s the reason for the hold up. And behind that lead is bile at the realization that Melvin may not be getting to her. If your lungs could collapse at a thought, this would be their undoing.

Charlie looks back to the house. “I’m going to go look for Dad,” he states.

It flashes before your eyes--how he might discover Diana drunk, Melvin doing his best to coax her from the glass, or worse, an argument. His world would crumble in an instant. You know that it might be the wind to bring the house of cards down and it might make whatever you do in the future make more sense, but you call out his name instead. He doesn’t need to be dropped into reality just yet.

“We can get started, if you want. I think Calum and I count as adult supervision,” you tease. “Even if just barely on Calum’s part.”

“Excuse me?” Calum laughs. “I have been well into adulthood for quite some time now. Not nearly as old as you, but it still counts.”

Charlie laughs at the exchange. “No, but like, we always do it with Dad,” he counters. He’s not moved closer back to the bench, hovering in the few feet between the bench and the deck steps.

“You can blame me,” you counter, nodding for Charlie to come back. “C’mon. Teagan’s got ass to kick--yours specifically.”

“Oh no, now that’s unfair,” he retorts, inching back towards the table, back towards safety. “And you owe money to the jar.”

“Add it to my tab,” you grin, sliding him an apron.

“Game on,” he grins. Devious as it is, you count this as a win. You know the trouble won’t get smoother, won’t get easier, but Charlie doesn’t need the veil torn down just yet.

As you help Teagan into her apron, you notice her own concern, the flickering of her gaze back up to the house. God, what you wouldn’t have done to save her the first time, when she snuck down to that kitchen and caught those few seconds of the cabinets slamming.

“Do you want to scoop or cut?” you ask, trying to pull her back. You can save her now, even if it’s only for pumpkin carving. “After we get the outline done, of course.”

“I’ll take a stab at the cutting.”

You snort at the pun, but nod. “If it’s too tough, just let me know and I’ll take over.”

She nods and takes the sharpie with ease to begin outlining the brows, eyes, and mouth of her jack-o-latern. She works with little hesitation until she has to make the brow on the right with the one on the left. Charlie and Calum laugh from their side of the table as Charlie works to get the knife through the thick rine.

“Please watch your fingers, yeah?” Calum states as Charlie works.

Teagan slips out from the bench and takes a couple steps back. You watch her and she tilts her head just a little. “I can’t get the brows straight for the life of me,” she laughs.

You lean over to get a more straight one look. The right brow is just a little lower than the left. “It’s now an aesthetic choice. Adds to the character,” you offer.

She snorts. “We can call it that.”

As she returns back to her spot, you hear the slide of the glass doors. Melvin slips through but pauses with the door not fully closed behind him. You see it, the flash of fear and disappointment over his face. It makes you wonder if he ever consider that even this particular path of action would have its own cost? The hand of the universe is always perfectly balanced--for every x that is solved, there is a z.

The two of you lock gazes, as you stand to help Teagan with getting the gourd open, and you know that Melvin’s truly not prepared. Neither are you. The two of you are wading in the same sea. Neither one of you has a buoy, neither one of you have a life vest for what’s coming or what’s already here. The difference between you and Melvin are merely only the reasons that brought you into this stormy sea. You already know the cost of every choice. You already know that every action you take or don’t take will come with its own weighty consequence. You know the cost of keeping Charlie from going inside is that when the truth does come out, it will destroy him tenfold. You know when you take them in, when you do what you must do, there will be anger and resentment. As much as it scares you, you know you’re going to do it--regardless. You don’t know how to navigate those feelings. You don’t know how to live with the fear of what you know must be done. But you will still do it.

Does some part of this feel like deja vu for Melvin? Not that you envy his position. He is at the crossroads of his own impossible trolley problem. If Melvin wanted to save his wife, save the mother of his children, Charlie and Teagan would become the sacrifice. If Melvin wanted to save his two youngest children from the same fate that fell upon you, his wife would become the sacrifice. You watch the crushing reality swallow him whole. You’ve never seen true horror on someone’s face until now. Until Melvin watches as you work the knife through the flesh of the pumpkin and the foundation of a tradition cracks.

You could and would do whatever necessary to protect them. You wish you could tell him, say to him that this is the moment of sink or swim. This is the very second to decide if he’s going to let Diana’s own choices destroy what he’d worked so hard to build. But you’ve the rest of the rind to get through. There’s Teagan waiting eagerly to your right with the spoon to scoop out the innards of the pumpkin. So you look back down to the work you’re doing, sliding the knife through the tough outer flesh and resign yourself come the end of November, even if you have to sink, Charlie and Teagan will still swim.

You can only hope Melvin’s accepted that fate too.

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