The Keeper: Chapter 17

Red-eyes suck. Especially when you’re losing time, and Seattle is three hours behind Kroydon Hills. So there’s three hours of my life I’m never getting back. Add to that the extra hour we sat waiting on the tarmac before we took off last night, and I’m cranky, exhausted, and not at all in the mood to deal with the reporters following me through the airport.

But holy shit.

They’ve got nothing on the ones flashing cameras in my face when I step outside.

It’s a madhouse as I try to make my way to the massive SUV Uber waiting at the curb.

I ignore them as best I can. This isn’t the first time everyone has wanted a picture or a comment, and it won’t be the last. But it may be the first time they’ve been this intrusive. I’m used to Charles being here to handle it. Guess that’s what I get for exerting my independence. I might be regretting that one right about now.

I nearly trip as a camera is shoved in front of my face, and I stumble to open the back door. With shaky hands, I steady myself, slide in, and slam the door shut.

The driver turns around. The smell of weed mixes with a nasty air freshener, like that’s going to mask it. “You a celebrity or something?”

“I’m a figure skater,” I tell him and buckle my seat belt. This guy doesn’t need to know I’m a Kingston, and I’m not about to advertise it.

. If that thought doesn’t make me realize maybe I do need some form of security, I’m not sure what will.

The driver confirms my address, and I shoot off a text to my sister Amelia’s husband, Sam, asking if he’s got time to talk today. I’m willing to at least discuss security if it’s on my own terms. If they work for me, I can tell them to back off when I need space. They’ll answer to me, not my family.

The city streets are empty as we make the quick drive from the city back to Kroydon Hills. It gives me a chance to get my bearings before the driver, thankfully, pulls into our building’s underground garage to let me out. As I open the door, he scoffs, “Didn’t know figure skaters got paid enough to live here.”

I refuse to dignify that shitty comment and shut the door. “Thanks.”

He’s definitely not getting a good review.

I smile at our doorman and consider stopping in the coffee shop but decide sleep trumps caffeine this morning. Elevator it is. My bed is calling me.

But when the doors open, I’m on the sixth floor, not the seventh, and Kenzie is waiting to step on. She looks at me and closes her eyes. She’s a hot mess. Messy hair. Smoky eyes smudged, but her day old-mascara still looks half decent. What the hell?

“What are you doing down here?” I ask as I hit the button to close the doors.

Kenzie’s head thunks against the wall, and she shushes me. “Not so loud,” she whispers.

Ok-ay. Guess it’s her turn for the hangover from hell.

This day is off to a stellar start.

The two of us ride up to our floor in silence, then pass Gracie in the hall. “Hey. You’re back,” she smiles, then looks Kenzie over like she smelled a skunk.

“Yeah. Just got in. You off to class?” I ask.

“Yup. Baby ballerinas at Mom’s studio. We still on for drinks tonight?” Grace asks, and Kenzie groans and shoulders past us into the condo. “What’s her problem?”

“No clue. Did you see her last night?”

Gracie shakes her head. “But judging by the look of her, I’d say she either had a really night or a really one. It could go either way.”

“Yeah. Guess so. I’m gonna go crash. I’ll see you tonight.”

She moves to the elevator, and if I had the energy to run, I’d sprint to my bed. Myrtle greets me when I walk through the door, and I give her some loving and a treat, then let her follow me to my room. She uses her doggy stairs to get on my bed, and then my lazy dog passes out before I do.

The next time I wake up, it’s because Everly is sitting on my bed, laughing.

I crack an eye open, close it again, and rub both eyes with my fists.

“What are you doing here?” I grumble and push my hair out of my face, then wipe the drool from my mouth. I’m not what you’d call a sleeper.

Evie laughs at something she’s reading on her phone and leans back against my pillows, smiling. “The game starts in an hour, and I thought you’d want to shower before we hit up West End.” She looks back down at her phone and laughs harder. “You should see this shit. The Kronicle is doing a bump watch and polling for an nickname. My fave is Hazy. Get it? Hayes and Lindy—Hazy.”

I grab my glasses from my nightstand and force myself to sit up so I can see what she’s looking at. “Wait . . . did you just say ? Like they think I’m pregnant? Did they get another fat picture? Jesus. One fucking burrito and everyone thinks I’m pregnant.”

“They’ve been speculating the quickie wedding was because you’re pregnant. Have a few drinks at West End tonight. That should put it to rest. Some asshole will snap a pic and send it in.”

I snatch her phone and look at the screen. There’s over two thousand comments on the last post. “Two thousand people are discussing whether I’m pregnant because my jersey was big last night?” I shake my head and toss the phone back to her, then lie back down. “It’s a jersey. They’re big.”

Everly gets up and yanks my blanket off. “Get up. Get showered. And let’s go.”

I look at her and wish I had something to throw. “You should have been a drill sergeant.”

“Camo is not my color. Now move your ass.”

“Should you be drinking, trouble? Rumor has it you’re pregnant with twins.”

I take my tequila and club soda from Maddox with a glare. “You’re a dick.”

“He can’t help himself. It just comes naturally.” Everly sips her white cranberry cosmo and leans back against the bar, her eyes trained on Gracie, who’s flirting with a guy we’ve never seen here before. “Who is that?”

“No clue, but he sure is pretty.”

“Dudes don’t like to be called pretty, trouble.” Maddox holds up the remote and changes the channel. The Revolution comes on the screen, and they zoom in on Jace and Easton talking down by E’s net. “They making nice yet?”

“Not as of yesterday. But I think Jace and I came to a tiny understanding.” I pinch my fingers together a smidge, and Maddox ignores me. “I guess we’ll see.”

I shoot off a text to E, telling him to kick some ass tonight, then scroll through my messages. “Shit.” I slept through Sam’s text.

“Something wrong?” Maddox prods, like the nosey little shit he is.

“I messaged your dad earlier and missed his text when he got back to me.”

“Looks like you missed him till Monday then. He’s taking Mom away for the weekend.” He looks around the bar, then back over at me. “Where’s Kenzie? She feeling okay?”

“Huh?” I ask, then realize what he said and focus on him. “Kenzie had a study session tonight with some friends from school. Were you here last night? She looked like shit when she got in this morning.”

“Yeah. She was hammering shots. She got pretty wasted.”

Gracie moves across the room with her mysterious stranger in tow. “Can I get another lemon drop, madman?”

“Sure. Anything for you, buddy?”

The stranger shakes his head, and I cringe. If Maddox calls you , you’re a douche, and that’s his way of telling us to stay away.

That’s about right. Gracie would find the douche tonight.

They’re always attracted to the quiet ones.

By the time the first period of the game is over, I’m ready to scream. Every time these asshole commentators get a chance, they’re bringing up Easton and me.

“Jesus Christ. Shut the fuck up and talk about the game,” I yell at the TV, and the small group of people here cheer.

West End is a local spot. Sam has always kept it that way, and now Maddox does the same. So when a flash goes off from the other side of the room, Maddox flies across the bar. “You got any clue who you’re fucking with, buddy?”

The dumb fuck blinks at Maddox, clearly not having any idea who he’s fucking with, then yells when madman smashes his camera and throws him through the door. “Bill me, asshole.”

When Maddox turns around, he throws his arms out. “Anybody else in here have any ideas about taking pictures of my family, you might wanna get the fuck out too.”

Everyone cheers, and the Revolution scores the first goal of the night. So I figure and yell, “Drinks on me for each goal they score tonight, guys.”

Maddox shakes his head as he gets back behind the bar. “Always causing fucking trouble.”

I smile sweetly. “But you love me.”

“Whatever. Give me your credit card.”

I slap it down onto the old cherrywood bar and look back up at the TV to watch my husband. Oh yeah. I can’t wait for him to get home tonight.

Once we’re home after the game, I change out of my jeans and throw on a pair of sweats, then toss a couple of things in a bag and head back down the stairs. Kenzie’s in the kitchen, eating leftovers. Her glasses are pushed up on top of her head and notebooks are spread out in front of her. “Hey, we missed you tonight.”

She looks up, an egg roll halfway to her mouth. “Sorry. I was at the library late. Where are you going now?”

Big girl panties, Lindy.

Put ’em on and pull ’em up.

“I thought I’d wait for Easton downstairs. Madman mentioned earlier that a ton of E’s boxes and furniture were delivered yesterday and today. I thought I’d help him unpack.”

“Oh.” Her eyes pop wide. “I was going to do that. Does that mean you and Easton are . . .”

I drop my eyes, feeling nervous, but I can no longer hide my smile from one of my best friends. “We’re good, Kenz. We’re really good.”

“Like no more annulment good?” She drops her egg roll and stares at me, waiting.

“No more annulment. He asked me to marry him again. He wants to do something big this time,” I whisper. I hadn’t told anyone that. Well, no one besides Jace.

“Do you want that?” she asks with hope dancing in her eyes.

“Do I want to be married to him? Oh yeah,” I say softly, scared to get too excited yet. “But I don’t know about the whole big wedding thing. I’m not even talking to my mom.”

“You’ll fix it, Linds. She’s your mom. You have to fix it. Take it from someone who’ll never get the chance to talk to her mom again.

Fight it out, but fix it. Get things straightened out between you and Easton, then work on the stuff with the family, starting with your mom.”

I lean my head against hers. “How’d you get so smart, girl genius?”

“Born that way, I guess. We all have our gifts.”

“Well, just so you know, things are straight with Easton and me.” I grab a vitamin water from the fridge and drop it in my bag, then steal of bite of Kenzie’s egg roll. “Yum. That’s good.”

“Oh my God. Did you remember?” She claps her hand like a giddy cheerleader, and I just smile until she pulls out her phone, and then a text pops up on mine.

“What did you do, Kenz?”

“Watch that with E when you get a chance, okay?”

“What is it?” I ask with a funny feeling.

“Just trust me and watch it with my brother. Now go. I’ve got another chapter to get through before I can go to bed, and I need to go to bed.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” I slip Myrtle’s leash on her collar and take her with me down to Easton’s condo.

It’s smaller than ours. A traditional two-bedroom with an open layout and a big balcony overlooking one of the small rivers that feed into Kroydon Lake. Movers may have brought his things in, but they sure didn’t unpack. There’s a ton of boxes in his family room and a new leather couch with the tags still attached up against the white wall.

I decide to explore further and walk into the smaller bedroom. The furniture in here was clearly brought in from his place in Vegas. Worn and loved. There’s a wooden desk Easton’s had in his room for as long as I’ve known him.

is written on the outside of the boxes in a handwriting that’s clearly not Easton’s. I assume he hired a service to pack his place up and move it across the country.

I peek inside the box and pull out a framed picture of Easton standing between his mom and Jules. Kenzie sits on E’s waist, and everyone is cheesing for the camera. It’s a great shot, so I stand it up on his desk and smile.

I wander further down the hall to the master bedroom and find a new box spring and mattress sitting on top of a big platform bed. I run my hand over the California king mattress and tear off the tag, then open up the big box next to it and find the sheets.

Looks like it’s time to do some laundry.

Two loads of laundry later, I’ve got his bedroom unpacked. His clothes are hung up, his bed is made, and the little bit of toiletries I could find are on the counter in the master bath. His big bed is covered in flannel, like some sort of lumberjack’s. But it’s soft and smells like fabric softener, tempting me to lie on it for just a few minutes. I curl up on my side and close my eyes. Just for a minute. Just a little rest.

That’s what I told myself. But the already dark room is pitch-black when I feel the bed move next to me before I’m wrapped in my husband’s massive arms. His smell envelops me, and I hum, feeling happy. “What time is it?”

“Late,” he whispers against my ear, sending warm tingles down my body. “My flight just got in, and I got your message to come here and not your place.”

I roll over and rest my cheek against Easton’s bare chest. He smells like soap and sandalwood, and my body roars to life as I wrap myself around him. “I missed you.”

“You look so fucking sexy in my jersey, baby.” His warm lips press against mine, and I sigh and tangle my legs with his. Easton’s hand slides up my bare thigh and stops on my bare hip. His eyes heat and darken. “Do you have anything on under my jersey, wife?”

Butterflies take flight in my stomach. I run my fingers down Easton’s delicious chest. Heat blooms inside me, emboldening me. “How about you find out for yourself, husband.”

He shifts between my legs, and goosebumps dance down my skin, tiny little fires sparking to life everywhere they touch.

He slides his hands up my ribcage and cups both breasts in his big, rough hands, gently squeezing before his thumbs brush over my pebbled nipples.

A bolt of lust tugs deep inside me.

“Easton,” I pant, not sure what I want except that I want it all.

“Seeing my name and number on you is so fucking hot, princess, but I need this gone.” He shoves my jersey up and over my head. Strong lips press against my throat. Hot and heavy. Licking and sucking his way down to my collarbone. He nips at my breasts, and his teeth scrape my nipples. He’s everywhere as he worships my body.

Our heavy breathing becomes the only thing daring to break the silence of the night.

The snow outside practically glows iridescent white from the balcony, leaving us otherwise bathed in darkness.

He shifts down, and I spread my legs when his mouth finally finds its way to my pussy, and he blows a hot breath against me.

I look down at his dark eyes and crooked grin and can’t look away.

Easton Hayes is intoxicating.

He gives me a confidence I’ve never had before, and I love it.

“I want to taste your pretty pussy, princess.” And God, that dirty mouth.

I tug his hair and spread my legs, dropping my knees open on the bed. “What are you waiting for?”

He runs his fingers along my sex, and those tiny sparks from earlier grow to full-blown flames as he spreads my lips. Gathering my wetness, then sucking it from his finger.

A chill skips along my overly heated skin, and my back arches off the bed when he dips his finger inside me. “Ahhh . . .” I moan until he steals my breath and sucks my clit into his mouth.

I call out breathlessly, my muscles tightening, my abs quivering.

My thighs clench and my knees lock around his head.

Desperate to be closer.

I shift my hips, needing more and moaning when he gives it to me.

Easton groans and sucks me into his mouth, flicking and kissing. His tongue spears inside me before it goes back to my clit. Pulling me closer, he fucking devours me.

The gentleness from our first night together is gone, replaced by a desperate frenzy that’s fanning the flames higher and higher.

With every swipe of his tongue and stroke of those blunt, rough fingers—pushing inside me, stretching me, fucking me—my body heats and shakes. I claw at him. At the sheets. At anything I can reach as my muscles pull taunt and my orgasm sits at the very edge of my vision, teasing me.

His rough hands slide under my hips and grip my ass, changing our angle.

Pulling me flush against his mouth, he growls against my sex, and the intensity of the vibrations sends me spinning. “Ohmygod, Easton.”

My hips lift, and my body throbs like one big heartbeat threatening to tear me apart.

The pressure builds higher and higher until it’s too much.

Too much and not enough at the same time.

My nails score his skin as I moan and gasp and beg him to let me come.

My skin burns as a sizzling pleasure builds to a fucking inferno.

Until it’s too much and I think I might lose my mind.

I look down at those dark-green, hooded eyes, locked on mine, and cry out again and again.

Easton drags one finger inside my pussy as another presses against the puckered skin of my ass.

And just when I think there’s no possible way I can take any more, his teeth scrape over my pulsing clit. I detonate in a violent orgasm that shakes me to my core.