Page 46 of Pumped

“Step one is mixing the yeast with some warm water.” I fill up a glass and set it in front of Ivy, explaining how the yeast will activate and bubble up.

She stares unblinkingly at the glass, waiting for the chemical reaction. She claps in delight when the first bubbles start to form. I let her help me mix the yeasty water into the flour and she squeals when the wet dough sticks to her fingers. When we set the dough aside to rise, I pull out ingredients for toppings: mushrooms, green peppers, leftover grilled chicken, tomato sauce, and mozzarella cheese.

Ivy’s giggles blend with Everest’s booming laughter as we each make our own personal-sized pizzas. The sound echoes off the kitchen walls, filling the space with something magical and I catch myself laughing just as hard as they are.

There’s a smear of flour on Everest’s cheek. I have no idea how it got there. Ivy’s hair is falling out of her pigtails and she keeps brushing it back with her dough-covered hands. The counter is covered with bits of mushroom and green peppers, spilled tomato sauce and crumbs of cheese. It looks like a hurricane blew through the kitchen. It looks lived in.

It looks loved.

The air tastes like champagne on my tongue, bubbly and intoxicating. It’s the joy that we’ve created together, the three of us. It’s overwhelming and powerful and I feel swept up in its current.

I don’t want this evening to end. I want every evening to be like this. I want to smile until my cheeks hurt, laugh until tears spring to my eyes. I want this to continue forever.

My life was good before the accident. I had no complaints. If I could turn back time, I would do everything in my power to make sure Jeremy and Eden stayed safe and Ivy didn’t lose her parents.

But this… this is nice. Nicer than anything I’ve experienced in a long, long time. Nicer than anything I could’ve dreamed up or imagined.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

EVEREST

Ivy’s curled up in bed, head resting on Owen’s shoulder. I’m pretty sure she fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago, but Owen hasn’t noticed and I don’t bother telling him. His voice is deep and rich as he continues to read from one of Ivy’s favorite books and I let his soothing baritone roll over me.

Sitting on the floor, back against the wall, my eyes drift shut as I listen to Owen. Today was a good day. A very good day. Even my little meltdown when I got home was good.

I know I overreacted. It was just so shocking seeing them upstairs in Eden and Jeremy’s room and my emotions got the better of me. Of course we have to clear out their things at some point. Of course we can’t seal off an entire floor of the house forever. I just wish Owen had told me he was going to do it beforehand. I want to be a part of the process. I want the chance to say goodbye to them one more time.

I open my eyes and take in the vision of Owen, the softness in his eyes, the delicate curve of his lips, the looseness in the way he holds himself. The scruff on his cheeks is too long and his clothes are more than a little wrinkled. It’s so different from his usualtightly wound and highly strung appearance. He looks relaxed and at ease. He looks happy.

For the first time in all the years I’ve known him, he finally looks happy.

I’m a little surprised at myself for asking him what he wanted to do about dinner. I should’ve just ordered something, to hell with him. But after that moment we had on the floor of Eden and Jeremy’s room, it kind of felt wrong. I want him to tell me about stuff, so maybe I should tell him about stuff too—even if it is whether we should order pizza for dinner.

Owen’s reading trails off as he peeks down at a sleeping Ivy. He glances at me and I smile.

“How long has she been asleep?” he asks quietly.

“A while.”

“And you just let me keep reading?”

I lift a shoulder and let it drop. “I was enjoying the story.”

He huffs, then gently eases Ivy down onto the bed. He pulls the covers tight around her, tucks Zuzi in next to her, and slides the book back into its spot on her bookshelf. I climb to my feet and click on the nightlight in the corner of the room. We slip out.

On the landing outside Ivy’s room, I stand at the top of the stairs, waiting for Owen to make the next move. Since we moved in, he’s been sleeping in what used to be the office across the hall from Ivy. It’s smaller than the guest bedroom I’ve been using in the basement, but he wanted to be closer to Ivy in case she needed someone in the middle of the night.

“So…” I say.

He clears his throat and stuffs his hands into his pockets. The action pulls the front of his slacks taut across the bulge of his dick. His chest rises and falls a little too fast for a resting heart rate, and his shoulders are an inch higher than they were when he was reading a moment ago.

He’s tense. Nervous. He’s fighting with himself, it’s written on his face, plain as day.

Maybe I should take it easy on him. Make the first move so he doesn’t have to step too far outside his comfort zone. I’m nice like that, considerate. But I’m also a tease and a troublemaker, and I kinda like watching Owen squirm.

“How about a drink?” Owen’s gaze is downcast as he asks the question.

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