Page 118 of Stolen Dreams
He relaxes his hands then lifts his chin. Tears glaze his hazel eyes. “Glad.” He blinks and sits a little straighter. “I hate her.”
His reaction and response are a knife to the chest, but I’d never rob him of his feelings. Brianna treated him poorly from the start and didn’t care how it would impact his life. She deserves his wrath, but I’ll find a way for him to channel it without hurting anyone else.
“My brave guy.” I run my fingers through the curls near his temple. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.” Peeking at Kaya from the corner of my eye, I take her hand. “I’ll always be here for you. If you need to yell, cry or hit something, you come to me and let it all out. And if you don’t want to do those things with me”—I squeeze Kaya’s hand—“you can sit down and talk with Kaya.”
Her grip on my hand is severe as she nods. “It would be an honor.”
A smile lights up Tucker’s face and it’s as if the sun came out for the first time in years. Who knew such a simple action could conquer the dark?
Tucker leans forward and lays his hand over our joined ones. “You’re the best, Miss Kaya. I love you.”
And now, Kaya Imala has the love of two Calhoun men.
THIRTY-SEVEN
KAYA
The past fewdays have been a whirlwind. Full of ups and downs. Joy and chaos. A strange blend of predestination and uncertainty, thrill and horror. Each moment made me breathless. Some had me fearful. Others made my pulse throb in my ears.
But they all served as a reminder of how fortunate I am.
I still get to wake up next to a man I care for deeply. Still get to see Tucker’s smile, hear his laughter—although both are rare since the incident with Brianna. Still get to make memories with two people I never expected to enter my life, but I am glad they did.
Since the showdown at the train yard, Ray, Tucker, and I haven’t spent a moment apart.
Although it pained him, Ray asked for the week off during the final days of cooking classes. André didn’t blink at the request and told Ray to come back when he was ready.
I reached out to the rec center, gave them an abbreviated version of what happened, and requested a week off. Since summer camp is almost over, they told me to focus on myself, Ray and Tucker and preparing for the new school year.
Again, beyond fortunate.
In the days since the incident, we’ve had time to talk—with each other and a therapist. Spilled our hurt and exposed our wounds. Allowed ourselves to be vulnerable in an unprecedented way. In doing so, we’ve also strengthened our bond and made each other a safe space.
“Spatula.” Ray tugs open a drawer then closes it just as quickly. “Where do you keep your spatula, Fire Eyes?”
When I mentioned needing to come home for clothes yesterday, Ray made the outlandish suggestion we stay at my place for the night. From our first date, all at-home events were at Ray’s place. I’ve never been opposed to time at my house, I just wanted Tucker comfortable, and that meant him being surrounded by familiarity.
I opened my mouth to tell Ray my house was crampy and not as entertaining or enjoyable as his home. But I was cut off by an enthusiastic Tucker who thought a sleepover at my house would be fun. Couch forts and junk food. Board games and a little playful rivalry.
I didn’t have it in my heart to open my mouth and question Tucker’s zeal. The last thing I wanted was to stifle an ounce of his happiness.
Months from his tenth birthday, Tucker’s already endured more than most two or three times his age. I can’t help but wonder if his superficial gaiety is a defense mechanism.
Unless Tucker gives me reason to worry, I shut off my psychologist brain and let him express himself however he chooses.
“Erm…” Gaze on the fruit I’m cutting, I wince.
In two swift strides, Ray crowds me at the counter. Inches impossibly close. Dips his chin and trails the tip of his nose along my jawline, the heat of his breath like velvet on my skin.
I suck in a shaky breath.
A harshclangechoes through the room as the knife falls from my hand to the cutting board. Sparks dance under my skin as his fingertips graze my bare arm, my collarbone, the hollow of my throat. Eyes rolling back, I melt into his touch. He nips then kisses the angle of my jaw, and it’s an instant jolt to my heart. Ache blooms low in my belly a beat before arousal pools between my thighs. His talented fingers thread through my hair at the nape of my neck, curl into a loose fist, and tug.
Breath hot on my lips, erection thick and hard against my hip, his fiery gaze brands my soul. Lost in his riveting umber eyes, the world disappears.
He is all I see, all I feel, all I want.
Nose to nose, gazes locked, his lips ghost mine. “Tell me you have a spatula, Fire Eyes.”