I took in a shuddering breath trying to get my heart to stop beating so hard.
I didn’t want to give him a break. I wanted to keep kissing him. No, I wanted
him
to keep kissing
me.
I wanted him to kiss me forever.
Forever.
He was that good of a kisser, for one. For another, he was Creed and he was finally all mine.
I had no idea my face made it clear I not only wanted his kisses but I wanted more. I would find out, in a way, when his hand moved away, he dropped his head and shoved his face in my neck.
“Fuckin’ hell, you’re killin’ me.”
That didn’t sound good.
“I… I…” I swallowed. “Am I doing something wrong?” I whispered.
His head shot up and his hand returned to cup my face as he shook his head. “No, beautiful. No, baby,” he assured me gently. “Maybe we should just take a break from neckin’ for a while.”
This was not a suggestion I liked but I finally got it.
I was making him hard.
Oh my God! I was making Tucker Creed hard!
Me!
Sylvie Bissenette!
Oh my God!
He liked kissing me too, not like I thought he liked it. Like…
really.
Maybe even as much as I liked kissing him.
Wow.
I liked that.
I tried not to grin but it didn’t work too well. I knew this when his eyes dropped to my mouth, they went funny in a way that made my belly feel funny and also made me bite my lip.
His gaze came back to mine and he muttered dryly, “I see my girl gets it.”
“Um…” I muttered back and he grinned.
“Yeah, she gets it,” he kept muttering then his face got closer. “I dig that you like you can do that to me but just so you know, it feels good, gettin’ excited but for a guy, it can go bad.” He saw it coming, my question, so he lifted up his chin slightly before shaking his head. “Not gonna explain. Not now, baby. Later, maybe. Not now.” He rolled to his back, pulling me with him so I was lying partly to his side, partly on him and he lifted a hand to pull my hair away from my face before suggesting, “Let’s just talk for a while.”
I preferred kissing but I could do that too.
So I agreed, “Okay.” Then I studied his face and fell into the Creed and me that was and would always be. “Is everything okay with your Mom?”
His hand left my hair, his torso lifted up and he got up on his elbows behind him even as I stayed close. Once in position, he rolled his head around on his neck like he was trying to stretch away tension there.
He did that a lot when I brought up his Mom.
She was living with him again. She’d moved out, moved in with a man but they’d got in a fight and now she was back. This, unfortunately, happened a lot. She’d find the man who was the love of her life, date him for a few weeks, move out then move back in when it went sour. Sometimes her being away lasted a few days. Sometimes, if Creed was lucky, it lasted months.
This time, it had lasted months.
Now it was over.
Creed did not like his Mom coming home because he didn’t like her much. He also didn’t like it because that meant I couldn’t come over at night, eat with him, watch TV, neck on his couch before he walked me through the woods to my car that I’d park on the old abandoned lane that went nowhere.
He further didn’t like it because she hadn’t changed. She drank too much, didn’t mind making a mess but did mind cleaning up after herself.
He also didn’t like it because when she got back, she could be nasty. She didn’t get that there was only one Brand Creed. She didn’t get, after years and years and years, that she needed to learn to live with his loss and move on. She just continued to feel the pain and take it out on everyone around her.
Last, she was in and out of work, currently out and Creed worked at the local tire factory. He was union, he told me, so the pay wasn’t bad (I didn’t get this, totally, but I did believe him). But no one wanted to work hard, come home and watch their Momma drink their paycheck while she made a mess and gave him stick (I
did
get this, totally).
Creed told me his Dad actually didn’t leave the house to his Mom when he died and when Creed turned eighteen, he owned it. So he could tell her to leave, kick her out.
But Creed wasn’t that way.
He was Brand Creed’s son through and through. He didn’t have it in him to be mean, not even to a Momma who never was any good to him or for him or, really, anybody.
“No, Sylvie, it’s not okay,” he answered.
I scrunched up my nose.
He grinned.
I stopped scrunching my nose and grinned back.
Then I pressed closer. “I wish I could do something,” I said quietly and I did. Really, really badly.
“You can’t, baby,” he said quietly back. “My lot in life.”
“Not forever,” I told him and his eyes held mine before they drifted beyond me.
“Seems like it’ll be.”
“No way,” I told him firmly and his gaze came back so I went on. “When I turn eighteen, we’re out of here. We’re going to get in your truck and
go.
Drive until we hit a place we both like and then stop and build a life without your Mom. Without my Dad. We’re going to buy a house and have babies and no one will know us. No one will know I’m Sylvia Bissenette, A Bissenette of
The
Bissenette’s and no one will know you have anything to do with Winona Creed. We’ll just be Creed and Sylvie. Just you and just me.”
Creed’s head tipped to the side slightly and his eyes were soft but lit with a bright light when he asked gently, “You want babies?”
“Two. A girl and a boy,” I replied immediately.
“Got it planned,” he muttered, his eyes still soft but bright, his lips curled up at the edges.
“Yep.” I grinned.
“Names?”
“Kara, the girl. Brand, the boy.”
His lip curl faded and the soft went out of his eyes but the bright went brighter.
“Brand?” he whispered.
“For your Daddy,” I whispered back.
He stared at me, that bright in his eyes shining through me, shining deep and feeling sweet, like it wasn’t autumn and there wasn’t a nip in the air but it was summer and the sun was shining, warming me through.
“Make it tough,” he muttered.
“What?” I asked.
“You make it tough not to kiss you,” he explained and my belly curled.
I liked that too.
I bit my lip.
Creed grinned at me and teased, “So, the hope is, you’re namin’ your boy Brand, you intend for me to be the Daddy.”
That was such a stupid question, I released my lip, narrowed my eyes at him and slapped his arm.
He burst out laughing, lifted up off his elbows and his arms curled around me. He fell back twisting so he was now lying mostly on my side.
I liked lying on him.
I liked this a whole lot better.
Therefore, I lost my exasperation, lifted a hand and slid the hair away that had fallen over his forehead. The minute I dropped my hand, the hair fell right back and I couldn’t help but smile.
“You know what love is?”
Creed asked that and my eyes shot from the hair on his forehead to his.
“I…” I swallowed again then, holding his eyes, I whispered, “Yes. I do. I know what love is, Creed.”
I felt his big hand curl warm on the side of my face before I felt the pad of his thumb sweep across my lips again. He watched it move as he replied, “I do too, baby.” His eyes came to mine. “I absolutely do.”
I sighed.
Creed bent his head to touch his mouth to mine before, unfortunately, he pulled away.
But when he did, my heart leaped when he whispered, “Kara and Brand. I like that.”
I felt my eyes get soft before I whispered back, “Good.”
It Always Would Be
Present day…
I was one of those people who, when I was wrong, I’d admit I was wrong.
Right then, floating on an inner tube on the lazy river at Wet ‘n’ Wild in Phoenix, Arizona after having a squirt gun fight with Creed, Brand and Kara, which was after we went down copious water slides including one the kids called “the toilet bowl” which had this kickass swirly thing going on which was after we had lunch which was after we horsed around in the wave pool… I was
loving
Phoenix.
I was getting a tan.
I had my man back.
And he was right, he had great kids.
But, meeting Kara and Brand, the surprises kept coming.
First was the fact that I expected them to look exactly like Creed. In my mind, badass genes would beat out pretty much everything.
They didn’t look exactly like Creed. Apparently, badass genes knew enough to bow to traits that would create a superior being.
In other words, his kids were gorgeous.
Kara had thick, gleaming, long, straight brunette hair and a twelve year old girl’s slim, tall, almost boyish body. She had perfect, dark arched brows and the features of her face, which were still girlish but would clearly mature into great beauty, bore absolutely no resemblance to Creed’s. They might be Chelle’s, they might just be Kara’s and from Brand’s looks, I couldn’t tell.
Brand also had thick dark hair and, although ten years old, he was tall and had his father’s exact build. His features didn’t resemble his father or his sister so they, too, were either from his mother or all Brand.
Luckily for them, both kids inherited Creed’s unusual bright blue eyes and, with their dark hair and tanned skin which said they weren’t adverse to the heat like I was, their eyes were startlingly beautiful. Even more so than Creed’s which, until I saw them, I would have said was impossible.
Another surprise was Creed’s brand of parenting.
Neither of us grew up with good role models and when Creed wanted to spring me on his children with very little warning, I thought he was the cool, laidback Dad. Maybe, I had to admit,
too
cool and laidback.
He was not.
I’d forgotten that Creed’s Dad died when Creed was ten so there was plenty of time for the first Brand Creed to make his mark on his son. Although I’d never met Creed’s Dad, it was clear to see his father had done just that.
Creed wasn’t exactly strict but he definitely wasn’t Weekend Daddy who spoiled his kids when he had them and let shit slide. I noted this when he didn’t give in when Kara strode into the park and immediately wanted to go shopping in the gift shop. He also didn’t give in when Brand wanted to order enough food at lunch to feed an Army. Creed wasn’t a jerk about it, his refusals were quiet and gentle. They were also firm and his kids minded him immediately, clearly because they were the norm.
Further, they packed their own bags and carried them to the car and they did this without Creed telling them to. They were polite and when Kara forgot to say thank you to the waitress for bringing our drinks, Creed gave her a subdued but meaningful Dad Look which prompted a quick remedy to her lapse in courtesy. And when a squabble seemed to be beginning to break out in the backseat on our way to the park, all he had to say was a quiet, low, “Stop… now,” and the burgeoning squabble ended immediately. The mood in the backseat didn’t turn jovial but they stopped bickering.
Creed, whose language was as foul as mine, also didn’t cuss around his kids. Also, although he held my hand on more than one occasion, obviously (and thankfully) his message was plain that public displays of affection were to be kept at an appropriate minimum.
I didn’t expect Creed to be a bad Dad. He made it clear he loved his children and they were a huge, important part of his life and any Dad who felt that way couldn’t be all bad.
I also didn’t expect him to be a
Dad,
showing love and care at the same time guiding with a firm hand.
I had to say, I liked it.
But truthfully, I thought Creed was thinking positively, even hopefully (but not rationally) about what he expected their reaction would be to me.
I was wrong about this, too.
From the instant I met him at Creed’s house, Brand was exactly as Creed described him. Open and friendly but also talkative.
Very
talkative. The kid had a lot to say but fortunately it was interesting and a lot of the time damned funny.
Kara was the same except, from the very little I knew of her, not rabid about it. It seemed genuine albeit watchful.
And it was clear they both adored their Dad though this was not a surprise.
The only thing that made me pause was Kara’s adoration of her father
was
what could be described as rabid. It shone from her eyes, was reflected in her features. She loved him and she clearly missed him being away and not away as in, a job in Denver but away as in, not seeing him every day. She was not a spoiled Daddy’s Little Princess but there was something there that was off, just not right and part of that was that it seemed Creed didn’t see it. Or perhaps he was acting normal in the hopes that would help her work through it.
Regardless, I couldn’t ask about it, not with her around and when Creed was around, Kara was. Whereas Brand was independent, did his own thing, quickly found other kids his age he could befriend and go off and do things with, Kara stuck to her Dad like glue.
Thus me, being in the lazy river, giving Kara time with Creed without me being there.
I tipped my shade-covered eyes up to the sun and figured it was heading to late afternoon. I didn’t know exactly but I reckoned I’d been on the lazy river for a good long while. During lunch, Creed had pulled a fast one, suggesting he make his dandan noodles for the four of us for dinner when we got home. I was supposed to go to the hotel after the water park but Creed made his “suggestion” in such a way I couldn’t protest. It was sly at the same time it was sweet since he didn’t want me to leave him and he wanted me to spend more time with his kids.
That said, I figured a day at Wet ‘n’ Wild with me around was enough for one weekend.
Creed obviously disagreed.
Clearly, Creed’s dandan noodles were a treat and the kids would put up with anything, even their dad’s “new” girlfriend eating noodles with them seeing as they agreed enthusiastically. I didn’t know what dandan noodles entailed but I did know it entailed a trip to the grocery store. So I also figured my time was up in the lazy river and I should haul my ass out and find Creed and his kids.