Page 122 of Stolen Dreams
He hugs it to his chest as we descend. “Miss Kaya gave it to me at school.”
I stay quiet until we reach the bottom of the stairs. “That was nice of her. It’s a cool fire truck.”
With a little bounce in his step, he walks ahead of me for the door leading to the garage. “It’s special,” he says, his voice full of wonder. “When I have a bad day, I share my secrets with it.” His lips twist. “But sometimes, I just take it with me. Like a friend.”
Speechless, I mentally fumble over what to say. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable by not responding. But I also don’t want to say the wrong thing.
“Well, I’m glad you have it.” I unlock the car and open the door for him, feeling like I should say more but have no idea what. So, I stay quiet.
Tucker bops his head to a few songs on the way to Kaya’s house. As I park in her driveway, she steps onto the porch and locks the front door. Tucker flies out of the car while I take my time grabbing the floral arrangement.
A low groan rattles my chest, my dick straining against the zipper as I swallow at the sight of her. Hair down and in loose waves, it cascades over her breasts and a very revealing, formfitting sleeveless black top, the point of theVat the base of her cleavage. High-waisted khaki pants hug her middle and flare wide on her mile-long legs, sweeping the ground. A large turquoise pendant rests beneath the hollow of her throat, her bead and bone cuff bracelet secured on her wrist.
Without effort, Kaya robs the air from my lungs and ruins me for any other woman. How I went half a lifetime without her, I’ll never know. But damn, am I grateful and honored to have her now.
Slipping my arm around her waist, I lean in and whisper in her ear. “You look incredible.”
She clutches the side of my pant leg. “Thank you.” Inching back, her fiery irises peek up and lock onto my gaze. “If it’s okay, I thought we’d walk to the main house.”
Tucker takes her hand. “Lead the way, Miss Kaya.”
Weaving through the trees, Kaya guides us along a foot-worn path. Our fingers laced, I take it all in.
Crisp pine mingles with the salty breeze from the bay. Birds chirp in the distance while chipmunks forage on the forest floor. Sunlight filters through the tree canopy, a soft glow on our skin and surrounding woodlands.
I love how the Imala family has gone out of their way to preserve as much of the land as possible. With one large home in the center of the property and several smaller homes scattered throughout, they’ve kept most of the estate as it once was—trees and earth. In a world full of concrete jungles and noise, it’s lovely to see places such as this still exist. It’s peaceful, energizing, a way to reconnect with nature and reset.
The trees thin and open to a two-story home constructed of wood and stone. Large windows frame much of the south wall—an open deck on the second floor and covered patio beneath, spanning the entire side. Roughly twenty feet of cut grass surrounds the house, but the remaining exposed land is beautified with ponds, a grand firepit, and lush gardens.
My heart is in my throat as we walk between two large vegetable garden beds and I glance toward the house, an older man sitting in a chair on the patio. From here, it’s difficult to read his body language or expression. For all I know, the man could have a smile on his face. Either way, it wouldn’t ease my nerves.
I strengthen my hold on Kaya, and she gives me a gentle squeeze in return.
“There she is.” The man rises from his seat as we approach, a warm smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “My favoriteirngutaq.”
“Grandchild,” Kaya translates a beat before she steps into his open arms. It’s easy to see his embrace is soft, loving,everlasting. The kind you want more of. When they break apart, Kaya introduces us. “Ray, Tucker, this is myataatasiaq, grandfather, Nanook Imala. Nan for short.Ataatasiaq, this is Ray and his son, Tucker.”
I shift the arrangement and offer my hand. “Wonderful to meet you, Nan.”
His weathered, calloused hand is warm, his grip firm yet full of tenderness. “Nice to see my Kaya with a caring man.” The affectionate comment catches me off guard, but before I can ask how he knows what type of man I am, he pulls Tucker into a hug. “And what an honor it is to meet you, young Tucker.” The soft lines by his eyes deepen as a fond smile brightens his expression.
The way he speaks to and of us, it’s as though we’ve been a part of his life for years. It assuages my unease, makes me feel more welcome than I anticipated.
Nan releases Tucker and meets Kaya’s gaze. “Everyone’s inside and eager to meet these two.”
Kaya inhales deeply and nods. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
I love that she is as nervous as I am. It says she cares about us and how her family will receive me and Tucker.
We follow Nanook inside and I am struck speechless at how open and alive the home feels. Wood and stone repeat throughout the interior, pops of color on the walls from simple yet powerful pieces of art. Pleasant neutrals and earth tones given more life from the natural light streaming through the windows.
“This place is dope,” Tucker whispers.
Kaya and I chuckle.
“Yeah, bud, it is.”
When we reach the dining area, I stop breathing. In the heart of the room—and the house—is a lengthy, live edge table with several chairs tucked underneath. It’d be a tight fit but could easily seat more than a dozen people. Most would look at it andcomplain about how such a large table shrinks the room. To me, it’s a warm, inviting space that keeps everyone connected.