Page 45 of Pumped

I huff at his teasing. “No, I mean, we can make our own. I’ve got a good pizza dough recipe.”

Everest snorts and rolls his eyes, but it feels more playful than derisive. “Of course you do.” He stands and holds out his hand to me.

I stare at it for several seconds. His fingers are long and strong. His palm is calloused. There’s a dusting of hair on theback, lighter than the hair on his head, and it almost shimmers when the light catches it. It’s an attractive hand. Hands like that should come with warning labels. Hands like that should be downright illegal.

Slowly, I lift mine and fit it inside his. When his fingers close around me, heat shoots straight up my arm and down to my dick. It’s ridiculous. It’s only a hand. He’s only helping me up. There’s no reason for my dick to get hard. And yet, it’s straining against the front of my slacks.

Everest hauls me to my feet as if I weigh nothing and I end up standing a little too close. My breath catches in my chest as I gaze up into his shining brown eyes. I can feel the heat of his body, smell the scent of the soap they stock at his gym.

I sway toward him as my stomach tightens with desire again. My skin tingles at his proximity. That hunger I’ve been trying to suppress roars to the surface, clawing at me to kiss him, undress him, taste him.

Everest steps back first and I have to stop myself from following him. He casts his gaze around the room, taking in all the things scattered on the floor. “Sorry about my meltdown earlier. I know we have to do this. It just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

I swallow thickly, tamping down the arousal that’s threatening to take over. “I should’ve mentioned it to you before we started.”

His eyes light up like I complimented his weightlifting skills.

“Uncle Eeevvv!” Ivy shouts from downstairs, dragging the single syllable of Everest’s name out until it’s as long as the whole freaking alphabet.

Everest cracks a smile and it feels like the sun shining warm on my face. “Come on. Our little terror is getting impatient. She might start scavenging in the pantry if we keep her waiting any longer.”

He turns and leaves, and I follow behind him, caught up in that one word.Ourlittle terror, Everest said. As in me and him. Together. The single word winds its way through me. It’s never sounded so right and yet so ominous at the same time.

By the time I get down to the kitchen, I’m caught in this off-kilter feeling, like the high of an adrenaline rush without the requisite closure. Like I’m stalled out at the top of a rollercoaster. Like I’m falling from the sky, but the ground never gets any closer.

“Guess what, Ivy-bear?” Everest exclaims when we reach the kitchen.

She looks up from the picture she’s drawing. There’s a sun and a house, and in front of the house are three stick figures. One is smaller with a triangular skirt and pigtails. The two taller ones are on either side of the little girl, one with stubble on his face and the other with a cap on its head. Me and Everest. With Ivy. In front of our house. All holding hands.

My heart stops and my lungs seize up when I realize what she’s drawn. A part of me revolts at the idea. No, it shouldn’t be me and Everest standing on either side of Ivy, it should be Jeremy and Eden. They’re her true parents. Everest and I are just poor substitutes.

But another part of me rejoices. Me and Everest and Ivy. We mean something to her beyond the adults she’s been saddled with. She sees us as a unit. She sees us as a family.

“Pizza?” Ivy shouts.

“Pizza!” Everest throws his arms into the air. “But it’s not just any old pizza! We’re gonna make our own.”

Ivy gasps audibly. “We are? But how?”

Everest picks her up from the chair at the kitchen table and brings her to one of the stools by the island. “Well, that’s where Uncle Owen’s magic comes in. He’s gonna teach us how.”

“Really?” Ivy looks at me with her eyes wide with adoration.

Everest’s smile is equally wide and open, unassuming and honest. Standing on the opposite side of the island from them, a warmth spreads through my chest. They’re so comfortable with each other, so close and familiar. The connection between them is undeniably vibrant and genuine.

And then it hits me, the connection isn’t just between them. It’s between all three of us. That’s why Ivy drew the picture. That’s why they’re smiling at me all goofy and uninhibited.

We’re a family, or at the very least, we’re on our way to becoming one. This hasn’t all been in vain. Something good can come out of this. And that scares me to my very core.

I have to clear my voice before I speak. “That’s right. We’ll make the pizza dough from scratch and then you can put whatever you want on yours.”

“WhateverI want?” Ivy leans forward so half of her body is on top of the island.

I try to school my face into a stern expression, but a smile tugs on my lips. “Within reason.”

She pouts, then heaves a sigh. “Okay, fine,” she says, reluctantly giving her stamp of approval.

Under their watchful eyes, I grab the big canister of flour from the pantry and the container of yeast I keep in the freezer.

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