The Last Letter(121)

So yeah, that’s the definition of me. I walk in, and it all goes to hell. Still sure you want me to come visit? Just kidding, you know I’ll be there.

I hope you’re getting presents wrapped for the kids and trees trimmed and all that. I’m loving the little battery-operated lights Colt sent and the tiny pink tree from Maisie.

Catch you later,

~ Chaos

…

I stretched, feeling deliciously sore in places I hadn’t felt since—

A warm, strong arm draped over my waist and pulled me back into the curve of a very firm, male body.

Beckett.

I waited for the panic to rise, the oh-shit feeling when the mistake had already been made and you couldn’t do anything but deal with the fallout, but it never came, because it wasn’t a mistake. Just a sweet contentment and the ache of well-used muscles.

How many times had we lost ourselves in each other last night? Three?

I’d told him we’d sort it out today, and I meant it. This was my kids’ dad, the guy who built not one but two tree houses, who showed up no matter how many times I doubted him.

And no matter the lies, the deception, and everything that had come to light, I loved him. That had never changed. And truthfully, I’d forgiven him long ago for the lie. Once I could step outside the hurt, I reread the letters. Saw the self-loathing he masked, the true feeling that he wasn’t worthy of love and couldn’t connect to people.

When he finally connected to Ryan, and then lost him, he went into a spiral. I just happened to get caught up in the vortex.

And as for the trust? He’d painstakingly rebuilt it over the last six months, never once wavering and always declaring his intent. That kind of relentlessness was impossible to ignore, and now that Maisie was cancer-free, it was time to figure out what Beckett and I were going to do about each other.

I could take a moment to be my own priority for the first time in years, and what I wanted was him.

“Mom! Come on, we’re going to be late!” Maisie called from the hallway.

I craned my neck to see the alarm clock.

“Oh crap! Beckett, we’re late!” I flew out of bed, running for the bathrobe I kept hanging on the back of my door but never used.

“What?” He shot up, the covers falling to his waist.

Good God, that man was gorgeous. Really, mouth-wateringly beautiful. This is exactly why you’re running late.

“We have to go. It’s already seven thirty! The kids have to be at school by eight or they miss the field trip!” I ran out into the hallway to find both kids dressed, baseball caps on, hiking shoes tied. “Good morning.”

They gave me a grin that said they knew exactly who was in my bed.

Parenting fail.

“So, who is taking us to school?” Maisie asked with a little bounce on her toes.

“Yeah? You, or Beckett?” Colt added, bouncing identically.

“Okay, we’ll discuss this later. We need to get ready. Now.”

“We already did!” Maisie said, looking entirely joyful.

“Breakfast?”

“Cereal,” Colt said. “We knew you’d get mad if we used the stove.”

“And we wanted you to sleep.” Maisie held up her fingers and started counting. “Breakfast, done. Teeth brushed, done. Havoc fed. She slept with me last night, but she’s a bed hog, so she has to go to Colt tonight.”

And that is exactly what I got for letting Beckett sleep in my bed. The kids automatically assumed we were back together. Or maybe we were. There was absolutely no time to think about that right now. My moment was over, and the kids were back in the priority spot. The sorting-out had to be handled by Beckett and me later. At a table. With lots of clothes on. Tons of clothes. Maybe a parka.

“We have our hiking shoes, our hats, our pants, and fleece, and we lathered each other up with sunscreen. All we need is a lunch.” She stopped counting.

“Lunch. I can do that…with the ten minutes I have.” I ran into the bedroom to find Beckett already dressed, looking sexy as hell and sleep-rumpled. Sex was a lot like sugar—give it up and you stop missing it after a while, but you start back up and you’re just jonesing for the next hit. And man, I wanted to hit that again. A lot.

“Kids okay?” he asked, tying his shoes.

“Oh, just jumping to assumptions, but other than that, they’re fine. I might need a little tag team help.” I dropped the robe and pulled on my underwear. “Beckett, concentrate.”

“Oh, I am. Trust me.” His eyes were locked on my ass.

Bra on and snapped.

“We have ten minutes before they have to leave—”

“Lunches?”

“Exactly.”

“On it,” he said, already walking toward the door. He caught my shoulders as he passed me, keeping me from falling as I hopped around like a lunatic with one leg in my jeans. “Good morning,” he said softly as he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Good morning to you,” I answered, and he was out the door. Man, I liked this too much. Falling back into that sweet rhythm we’d had while we were together. Knowing those giggles I heard coming up the stairs were the result of happy kids on a hectic morning with their dad.

I slipped on my green, long-sleeve, boat-neck tee and ran down the stairs, socks and boots in hand. Then I paused at the threshold of the kitchen and watched the scene for a minute that we didn’t have.