Where We Belong (A Touch of Fate #1)(66)
I've always enjoyed work and have never been bothered by back-to-back shifts…until Harley and Max. Now I hate working the long hours and spend the entire time thinking about them and wondering what they are doing. We text and talk, and she and Max send me a few goofy selfies, but it’s not the same. I want to be with them.
Today is my day off and waiting for Harley to finish her shift has been hell. I watched a baseball game I had recorded, thought about Harley, did laundry, thought about Harley, went for a run, thought about Max…and Harley.
I finally got fed up and drove to the sporting goods store. If I couldn't stop thinking about them, then I was going to do something for them. I remembered Max telling me that he was going to ask for a soccer goal—one of those little portable ones—for Christmas. Well, he won’t need to ask for it. Not only did I buy two goals, but I also got him shin guards and a new ball. I would have gotten him a new pair of cleats, but I didn't know what size he wore.
The two goals are lined up in their front yard and I'm sitting on the porch, tossing the ball around, when they pull into the driveway. Max jumps out of the car, running over to one of the goals at full speed. "Wow," he says, rubbing his little hand along the orange pole. His sparkling eyes find me and a wide grin splits his face.
He looks at the goal and then at his mom, at the goal again, and then finally at me. His voice is innocent and full of wonder as he walks toward me, asking, "Is this for me?"
"It is," I confirm, squatting down to his level. "So is this," I hand him the new ball, "and these." When I hand him the shin guards, he looks at his overflowing arms and then back at me. His smile is beaming and spontaneous laughter bursts from his mouth. The look of pure joy and amazement about drops me to my knees. I've known Max for less than a week and already there isn't a thing I wouldn't do for him.
Dropping the equipment out of his hands, Max propels his little body at mine with so much force that he knocks me off-balance, causing both of us to tumble backward. His arms latch around my neck as little fits of squeals and giggles fly out of his mouth.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you. This is so cool. You're the best. I love it! I'm gonna play with it all the time, like all the time." He takes a deep breath, pulling back to look at me. "Can I play with it now? Will you play with me?" he asks, bouncing from one foot to the other.
I pick up his equipment and hand it to him. "Absolutely. Go get your shin guards and cleats on."
"Yes!" he shouts, bouncing into the house. Straightening, I turn to Harley, and all of my excitement dissipates at the look on her face. Her eyes are misty and a trembling hand covers her mouth.
Two strides and I'm in front of her. "What's wr—oomph." This family must have a thing with throwing themselves at people. Before I can find out what's wrong, she slams her mouth against mine.
MAX, HARLEY, AND I spent the next two hours playing three-man soccer, and ended the night eating pizza and watching How To Train Your Dragon.
“Mmmm…I missed you." Harley nuzzles my neck, peppering kisses along the outside of my jaw, and my cock stirs.
Max’s head is leaning awkwardly against my arm, and if the small, wet spot forming on the sleeve of my shirt is any indication, I’m fairly certain he fell asleep. I can’t really move, but I have no desire to anyway. I like it here, wedged between a snoring four-year-old and a beautiful woman that can’t seem to keep her hands off of me.
“I missed you too,” I say, shifting my arm carefully, trying to lower Max’s head to the couch without waking him up.
“Here,” Harley says, standing up and reaching down to pick Max up off the couch. “Poor little guy wore himself out. I’m going to put him in bed." She walks off down the hall, a limp Max hanging from her arms, and I can’t help but smile. It’s a beautiful sight and it kills me that someone was actually stupid enough to walk away from the two of them.
“You look really tense,” she says softly, making herself comfortable on my lap. I grip her hips tightly and lean forward to sweep my lips against hers, which are always so damn soft. “I think I can help relieve some of that tension.” Her voice is low and seductive, and I want nothing more than to let her relieve my tension…but I can’t. For some reason, I can’t get that stupid f*cker out of my head.
The words spill from my mouth before I even have a chance to second-guess myself. “Who is Max’s father?"
Her body stiffens against mine and she leans back, releasing her grip from my hair. I know I’m making her uncomfortable, but I have to know. I need to know what happened…why he left. Harley stares at me, blinking absently several times. Her vibrant green eyes have grown cold and distant, and I hate that I put that look on her face. Reaching up, I thread my fingers through her hair, hoping to salvage the moment.
“Please don’t pull away from me,” I sigh. “I can see that this is hard for you, but I need to know." I rest my forehead against hers, willing her to come back to me, but I can tell it’s already too late. She pulls backs, dislodging herself from my embrace, and stalks off toward the kitchen. I follow behind her quietly and watch as she grabs two water bottles out of the refrigerator. She doesn’t say a word, just continues past the stove and out the sliding glass doors into the backyard.