Kristen Ashley - Own the Wind

Finally, Shy announced. “It’s done.”

“Done,” Lan agreed.

“Over,” Shy went on.

“Now we can move on,” Lan replied.

Shy tightened his arm around Tabby and repeated, “Now we can move on.”

“You know I love you, Parker, and that shit runs deep,” Lan told him.

“Feel the same, Landon.”

“Never forgot what we had, still miss it,” Lan shared.

“Then do what I’m doin’, Lan, and rebuild it.”

There was silence, a short chuckle, and then finally, “Not sure I’m done havin’ fun.”

Shy tipped his chin down to see the top of Tabby’s head, her profile, her eyes open staring at his throat, her hand at his chest, fingers drifting aimlessly but soothingly, giving him time with his brother but not giving him space, something at that moment he did not need.

“That’s your problem, brother, you don’t get that this side is a fuckuva lot more fun,” he returned.

“Take a little somethin’ special to convince me of that,” Lan retorted.

“God, I hope you find it,” Shy replied.

Lan was silent, then Shy got a quiet “Me too, Park.”

They let that hang, then Shy said, “Lettin’ you go.”

“Right. I’ll find some time to come up for a weekend.”

“Cool, see you then.”

“Yeah… and Park?”

“Yeah?”

“You did right, you did good, now they can rest easy.”

They can rest easy.

Shy felt his throat close so he had to force through it, “Yeah.”

“See you in a coupla weeks.”

“Later, Lan.”

“Later, brother.”

He touched his thumb to the screen, twisted just enough to throw his phone on the nightstand, then reached out to turn off the light and rolled into Tabby.

She snuggled closer, hitching her leg back over his hip, her arm winding tight around him.

“You good?” he asked into the dark.

He felt her nod then she asked, “How you feelin’, honey?”

He thought about her question and the answer was fucked. It made no sense. He had a woman wrapped around him, trapping him to a bed. He was facing a mortgage payment. He had plans to plant babies inside her, build a family.

Still, there was only one answer and he dipped his chin, put his lips to her hair, and whispered that answer into her hair.

“Free.”

At his answer, his girl, his gorgeous girl, pressed even closer.

Shy Cage never dreamed a dream.

Still, he knew, without a doubt since he was holding one in his arms, dreams were real.

Tightrope

Four months later…

“How were they?” Tyra asked in a whisper, running her finger lightly along a sleeping Cutter’s cheek as he lay in bed.

“Exhausting,” I replied. She turned her head and smiled at me, unrepentant that her two offspring were hellions.

Then she looked back down to Cutter and pulled the covers up to his shoulder. “Like you and Rush, they both got their dad’s hair, so I know where they got their temperament.”

I was glad they got Dad’s temperament along with his hair, though both of them had Tyra’s green eyes. If either of them added Tyra’s hair and the temperament that came with it with some of Dad thrown in, we’d be screwed.

“Happened again tonight,” I said. Tyra straightened from Cut and looked at me with brows raised, so I went on, “Took them out for dinner and a couple of people commented. They think they belong to Shy and me.” I looked down at my little brother. “Those green eyes, that hair.”

“I see that,” she murmured. I looked to her and grinned before I started moving to the door, Tyra coming with me, saying, “Fun to pretend, though, also time to plan.”

I watched as she carefully closed the door behind her but, at her words, my brows drew together and when she turned from the door and looked at me, she smiled.

“Playing house, honey,” she explained. “You and Shy have been together awhile. You’ve done the living-together thing. You’ve done the holidays-together thing. You’ve done the buying-the-house together thing. You’ve fought out the buying-a-fridge-together thing. When’s the next step?”

She was not wrong.

With Ty-Ty’s help, I gave Shy and Lan an awesome Christmas. We had a blast. I could tell both men enjoyed it, and the things they enjoyed most were waking up to two overexcited little boys who were in fits that Santa came and, later, sitting down to a huge dinner that tasted great, family all around, food and beer plentiful, conversation free and easy, and laughter coming often.

It was a blessing, they felt it, and neither man hid it.

It was awesome.

As for Shy, I learned he also gave good Christmases. His version of this was handing me my present right in front of everybody, his eyes locked to mine, his lips murmuring, “Every year.”

In the box was a pair of sapphire earrings.

Of course, I burst into tears but luckily, doing that on Christmas with family close meant I got Shy’s arms around me to comfort me, my little brother Cutter crawling into my lap to do the same thing and, not long after, my father bending deep to brush his lips against my hair to do the same thing.

There were tears but that didn’t negate the fact that it… was… fabulous.

Then, just weeks after, Shy and I moved into our new house.

Not long after that, Shy and I had a rip-roarin’ over our purchase of a new fridge. Although the house was great, there were things that needed updating, and one of them was the fridge.

At the store, Shy declared the kitchen was not my domain and therefore he got to say what fridge we bought and he chose a good model, dependable, but it was not deluxe.

In other words, it didn’t crush ice.

I said that bringing him beverages was my domain (which it was—once his behind was on the couch, it didn’t move), so I would be utilizing the fridge as much as him and I wanted the deluxe model that crushed ice.

Shy informed me that we were not going to spend extra money on having the ability to crush ice when we could spend it on something important, like saving up to build on to the garage so he could tinker with his bike there.

In other words, he wanted a man cave, not crushed ice.

I told him that after getting my money back from Lee Nightingale and putting it into outfitting our home, we were balanced partners and we should do something with the money that was balanced, say, a crushed ice mechanism on a deluxe fridge that we both could enjoy.

Shy said he didn’t give a fuck about crushed ice but he did give a fuck about his bike. He also took this opportunity to point out that I also gave a fuck about his bike, like, in a big way.

This ticked me off mostly because he was right.

Therefore, I had no ready response, and as I was trying to come up with one, Shy threw out that he also didn’t give a shit about balance. He told me, even if I didn’t get that money back, we were square. What was his was mine, what was mine was his, he didn’t keep track or keep score, and we weren’t starting out a life where I did either.

Although I liked it that he thought this, he communicated it in a bossy way that ticked me way the hell off, so I told him to stop being so bossy.

He told me I sucked bossy dick and never complained unless I wasn’t getting my way, so I needed to get over it.

Of course, at this, my head nearly exploded, so I promptly ended the conversation by retreating into it and freezing him out for three days, which was difficult seeing as we were living together. That said, I put a lot of effort into it so I succeeded. This, not surprisingly, caused him to lose his mind. My deep freeze ended in a blowout that ended in really great sex and, right after that, Shy telling me a story that sorted me out.

“My mom and dad both worked, sugar,” he told me, lying on top of me on the living room floor, still inside me, his thumb tracing my hairline. “She didn’t make a lot. He didn’t make a fuss. It wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about balance or partnership or sharing. It was about unity. They didn’t keep score, they just gave, and I figure that was why they didn’t fight. Because if you give, the other person is gonna give because they get that back. So the balance comes natural. I put the money down on the house. You vacuum and clean the toilets ’cause I hate that shit. So, baby, we already had balance before you kicked in with your cash. You just didn’t see it. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s always gonna be the way. I’m gonna give to you, Tabby, ’cause I love you. You’re gonna do the same. You just gotta feel the natural balance, not work for it.”

There were sometimes I hated it when he was right, like, say, when we were shouting at each other.

There were other times I loved it. Like, say, when he was inside me after giving me an orgasm or when he told me sweet stories about his parents. The best was, like just then, when I had both.

So, obviously, after that, the fight was over.

And, by the way, we got the fridge that crushed ice.

I came out of my thoughts and back to Tyra.

“What are you saying? Marriage? Babies?” I asked.

She nodded and replied, “It’s time. You’ve been together for a while, and Shy’s awesome with the boys. It’s clear he loves kids, and I know this because he loves my boys like they’re his own little brothers, and he acted like that even before you two got together. I’m not saying you have to get married if that’s not your thing. But you two need to be on the same page about both, since they’re important.” She tipped her head to the side and asked, “Have you talked about it?”

We hadn’t and she knew that. She now knew (nearly) everything about Shy and me.

So I had a feeling this topic of conversation came up because of something else. I also had a feeling I knew what that something else was, since Shy and I were babysitting because Dad and Tyra went out with Hop and Lanie that night.

Therefore, I asked, “Um… Ty-Ty, where’s this coming from?”

She hesitated before she replied, “Big stuff, honey. Too big for now after I’ve had a few margaritas and it being so late. Tomorrow, I’ll give you a call and fill you in.”

As ever with anything Lanie, even just stories, I was looking forward to being filled in. Especially when it had to do with Hop now that they were “out” just like Shy and I.

Suffice it to say, Lanie still took drama to extremes, and apparently Hop got off on that much like Dad enjoyed Ty-Ty’s attitude. I had to admit, Hop and Lanie were kind of cute, because Hop seemed happier than I’d ever seen him, and Lanie had that light back in her eyes that had died when her fiancé Elliott bought it. No way, looking at them separately, would you think they worked, but they totally did.

“I’ll wait for your call but tell me now, is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. Everything is good.” She smiled a small, knowing smile. “Hop is willing to do anything to make his woman happy. He’d walk a tightrope with no net if she was on the other side, cheering him on. And he just proved what we already knew, and he did that in a big way.”

This, I’d noticed watching those two, was the God’s-honest truth.

This, I noticed right then, made Tyra Allen happy.

“Though, Lanie feels the same about him,” Tyra added.

I’d noticed this too.

“Back to you, though, just to repeat, it’s crucial that you and Shy agree about important life stuff.”

She was right about that.

Tyra hooked her arm in mine, got close, and moved us slowly down the hall toward the kitchen.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” she said. “I know another man who’d walk a tightrope. It’s just, you seriously butted heads over crushed ice. You may need to share your thoughts about holy matrimony and what you foresee with building your family.”

She was right about that too. There had been heartbreak and drama, and now Shy and I were coasting on a wave of goodness broken only when we fought about fridges, or his bossiness hit the danger zone and we had to have words. We hadn’t talked about any of this, and it was important.

“He wants to build a family,” I told her.

She stopped us before we hit the kitchen and looked at me. “I know that, honey, but he could be thinking six kids while you’re thinking two.”

Yes, Shy and I needed to have this conversation, because no way I was having six kids and he missed his family so much, this was a possibility.