Betad by kitchmill. Mistakes are my own.

Preread by Hoodie.

14

A few weeks went by where I hardly heard from Emmett. Just a random text here and there, asking if I wanted to go to dinner or a movie, just him and me. No mention of Brady or asking how he was doing, so I ignored him.

On my days off I made it my mission to focus on Brady. We rode our bikes to the park and had a picnic. Quality time didn't last long after he took one bite of his sandwich then took off for the monkey bars.

I even sucked it up and went with him, Newt, and Mike to a professional football game, suffering through the buttnumbing three-and-a-half-hour game and feigning interest. It was torture. But at least there was food and beer to tide me over.

Thankfully, it was an early game so no ladies of the night were included in this trip. Mike had explained everything and apologized for taking the kids on a joyride around the city so late at night. The kids were relentless though, wanting to experience what it was like in the more seedy parts of town. I couldn't really blame them since I'd always been curious what real life was like in the big city. But I was older now. My interests had changed drastically. All I saw was the danger, none of the excitement.

Being the terrible mother I was, I made Brady suffer through a board game night in exchange for playing video games with him the night before. Though, secretly I think he enjoyed kicking my butt at Trouble, which was kind of ironic.

And even though he claimed he was too old to be tickled, he still kicked and giggled, sometimes screamed when I did it anyway.

Every time I tried to bring up the subject of his dad, Brady shut down. So I just reminded him that he loved him no matter what and that he could talk to me about anything he wanted, any time. Or Mike, or Alice for that matter. Someone was always there for him. But under no circumstances were adult words supposed to be used with them.

"What about your friend? The one Dad doesn't like? What if I want to talk to him?" Brady had asked. I didn't know what to say other than he lived out of town, which seemed to be enough to placate him for now.

Slowly but surely my sweet kid stopped moping around and was coming back to the energetic, funny, sarcastic eight-year-old he usually was. As his mom, I always wanted to see him like this and hoped it would last forever and everything would be all right. I was optimistic, but also realistic.

One Friday afternoon Emmett showed up to Brady's football practice unannounced, surprising just about everyone in the stands. Plopping down bedside me, he hooted and hollered, cheering Brady on as if nothing had happened between the two of them a few weeks before. As if he hadn't spent the last few weeks not speaking to his child. You had to admire his God-given ability to be oblivious.

"That's my boy!" he barked when Brady made a tackle. Keeping his eyes on the field, he leaned in closer to me. "I want to take him for the weekend. I'll drop him off at school Monday morning. If that's okay."

"I don't have a bag packed."

"That's okay. I've got some stuff at my place. Bought him a few things to keep there for when he stays."

I had to admit, I was somewhat impressed with this information.

"You promise no women while he's around?"

"No women. I know. I'm sorry about that."

"And you're gonna stay off your phone? Actually pay attention to your kid?"

"As soon as we get to my place I'll turn it off. Scouts honor. I want to make this up to him, B. I want him to want to come to my place and spend time with me. I want you to both want to spend time with me. I miss you guys."

"Don't tell me. Tell him." I jerked my head toward the field where the kids broke the huddle to start packing up their things.

Emmett took off for the field to help Brady with the last of his equipment. I guessed Brady agreed to go with his dad when he turned to give me a wave before they walked off in the direction of the parking lot together.

"So, you're a free woman," Alice said after Angie gathered her knitting material and went to get her son. "What are you gonna do about it?"

…

The sun was just setting when I pulled into my driveway. I sat in the car for a few minutes listening to the radio then switched it off and sat there a few moments more before finally getting out.

I stared at the mailbox before opening it to find a stack of bills and a single rose. Pulling it out, I gave it a sniff, closing my eyes as a small smile tugged at my lips.

I still hadn't texted Masen so he still didn't have my number. But that didn't stop him from getting ahold of me. Every Friday he left a single rose in my mailbox to let me know he was back in town and where I could find him. Surely there was much easier ass to get his hands on out there. I had to hand it to the guy. He knew how to make a booty call feel like something special.

I left the bills and my keys on the table beside the door but took the rose up to my room with me. After taking a shower, I spent the better part of an hour staring at the wall before making myself get up, get dressed, and dry my hair so it wouldn't turn to icicles if I decided to go out.

I almost didn't go. I almost turned around and went home. I almost didn't get out of my car when I finally got to where I was going. But then I thought about not going in. I thought about going back home to no one. I thought about not seeing Masen again, not feeling him on, around, or inside me ever again. The thought of not being with him hurt more than knowing this was the only way I could.

Masen's bike was outside so I knew he was there. It was the only thing that gave me the balls big enough to walk into the place by myself.

I got a lot of looks just like last time. Unlike last time, no one catcalled or tried to get my attention.

"You're Masen's girl, right?" the woman behind the bar asked. Her blonde hair was frizzy and unnatural. Tits were busting out of the top and sides of the leather vest she was wearing.

"I'm here to see him, yes."

Rag in hand, she pointed to the stairs. "Should be up there."

"Pouting," one of the guys I recognized from the other weekend added. "Maybe now that you're here he'll stop being such a pussy and join us for more than a beer or two."

Thanking the barmaid I headed upstairs. I stood outside Masen's room, my hand on the knob until I worked up enough courage to actually go in. The last time I saw him I wasn't put in the most flattering of light with Emmett making me sound like a two-timing whore and all. It was embarrassing. I was embarrassed. Just apparently not enough to scare either one of us off. Yet.

When I entered I found him lounging on the bed, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats. The summer tan on his stomach had faded but his tattoos were as vivid as the day I met him. The light scruff on his face was nearing a full-grown beard. Either way, he looked good enough to eat.

I backed up against the door to close and lock it. He looked up from the book he was reading, shut it, tossed it aside, and sat up, his abs straining when he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Wordless, I made my way over to stand between his knees, his hypnotic scent encompassing me.

And there I stood, makeupless in front of him. My hair dried straight, probably frizzing around my face. I didn't even look in the mirror after pulling on a pair of black leggings and my favorite oversized, black and red flannel, tied just below the waist. Still, Masen looked at me like he wanted all of me, polished and pretty or not. He'd take it.

Reaching up, he slowly started undoing the buttons of my shirt. Once he got halfway down and saw I was braless he palmed my tits then rested his forehead between them.

His thumbs brushed over my nipples. He ran his nose up the skin over my sternum then placed his lips on me.

My hands went for the rest of the buttons of my shirt and untied the knot while he placed soft, lingering kisses across my chest.

The shirt fell from my arms to the floor, my fingers coming up to scratch the edges of his beard as his dipped under the waist of my leggings and dragged them down my legs. I toed off my boots and the last of the leggings as gracefully as I could, guiding his lips from my chest to my mouth while simultaneously straddling his lap.

His arms wrapped around me just tight enough to extract a needy noise from my throat. He moaned into my mouth, sounding equally as desperate for me as I was for him.

My hands ran through his hair and over his beard then wrapped around his neck. He lifted us both to scoot back on the bed, unwrapping one arm from around my waist in an attempt to yank down one side of his sweats. I grabbed the other side, dragging the elastic down to his knees then lined his cock with my entrance, shocking us both when I sank down on it.

He groaned at the same time I sucked in a sharp breath, letting his head fall back and hit the wall. His eyes rolled back just before he closed them. His fingers dug into my thighs.

When I started to move, those dark, green eyes opened slightly, looking up into mine through hooded lids. He watched me bounce and grind against his groin, taking what I needed until I was quaking on top of him.

Leaning forward, he splayed his hands across my back and placed his forehead against my chest.

"You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?" he asked, thrusting upward while forcing me down onto him.

I moaned, wrapping my arms around his neck. Not only did it feel good being impaled, it made me feel powerful knowing that I had such an impact on him, too.

"Jesus, I missed you. This body. Fuck." Masen thrusted into me again, holding me against him, his hips jolting in an attempt to get deeper as he came.

We held each other for a few moments, his forehead against my chest. My cheek rested on top of his head until he lifted it, fluidly flipping us so he was on top before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

He didn't seem bothered by or in any hurry to clean up the mess, instead grabbing my hip and urging me to turn his way.

My first instinct was to resist. Lying on my side was the least flattering position for the remaining loose skin on my stomach. But I pushed my insecurities aside as much as I possibly could and faced him.

He squeezed my hip then wiggled down in the bed to nuzzle his scratchy beard into my belly and sighed. "Wasn't sure when I was gonna see you again. If I was gonna see you again."

I hadn't been all that sure either.

"And that would have been a bad thing?" My hand found its way into his hair on its own accord.

Masen glanced up at me. "A very bad thing."

I was pretty sure I gave him a small smile but couldn't be sure. "I didn't figure you for the masochistic type." My fingers combed through the underside of his beard.

"How's that now?" Masen looked up. I just caught a glimpse of those green eyes before looking away.

"You were there that day. You see what I have to deal with. And it's not going to stop. It never stops. Honestly, I'm surprised you even want me here when there's women out there with less baggage." And younger, and tighter, and with less stretch marks at that.

By the end of my rant Masen had propped himself up on his elbow, facing me.

"Bella, crazy ex or not, I'm into you. More than any woman I've ever been with."

I was equal parts flattered and jealous of all these other women.

"I want to see more of you."

I glanced down between us at my naked body.

Masen huffed out a laugh. "Not like that … Not just like that. I mean, more of this, yes." He honed in on my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "Fuck yes."

His lewd language caused my stomach to do a somersault. It did it again when he guided me onto my back and nudged himself between my legs. His lips descended on mine as he slipped inside me again, his eyes never leaving mine until it was too much for either of us not to close them.