Page 48 of Breakaway Daddies

Rowan

The sharp,repetitive pinging of my phone slices through the silence, yanking me from a deep, blissful sleep. I wince, sore from my escapades.

My eyelids feel like they’re glued shut, crusted over from sheer exhaustion, and I let out a low groan, shifting onto my side.

The mattress dips slightly with my movement, and the warm bodies nestled against me stir in response. Bruno lets out a gruff, sleepy sigh, burying his face even deeper into the plush pillow.

Beside him, Thomas mumbles something unintelligible, his words dissolving into a hushed murmur as he rolls onto his stomach, his arm draping across Bruno’s back.

Between us, Jinx is curled up, her beautiful face angelic and serene, her breathing a steady, soothing rhythm. Her dark hair is splayed across the pillow, a striking contrast against the white linen, like spilled ink on a blank canvas.

My mind is still swaddled in a hazy fog, my limbs deliciously heavy with the lingering warmth of post-orgasm bliss.

A deviant smile crests my lips as vivid memories from the night before flood my thoughts: the way Jinx’s voice broke as she moaned my name, the way she trembled beneath my fingertips, the way all four of us fit together so naturally, so perfectly.

This whole thing, this wild, unconventional arrangement, feels like the missing piece of a puzzle finally snapping into place. I let out a contented sigh, rubbing a weary hand across my face before reaching blindly for my phone on the nightstand.

The device continues to pulse with light, buzzing incessantly and demanding my attention. I squint at the bright screen, waiting for my vision to adjust. Confusion knots my stomach as I make out the notifications.

Who is texting me at this ungodly hour?

I swipe open my phone, and the screen explodes with notifications. Messages from my teammates, unfamiliar numbers, and a barrage of social media alerts vie for my attention. My heart skips a beat at the sight of two names: my parents.

Anxiety knots in my stomach as I tap into my notifications, my fingers suddenly rigid and unresponsive, while a chill spreads through my veins.

My pulse accelerates as I scroll through the chaos, each comment more alarming than the last.

>> Damn, didn’t take you for the sharing type, Davis.

>> Y’all really just out here running a train in public?

>> Dude, what the hell is this???

Panic grips my chest like a vice. My breath becomes shallow, and my throat tightens as I hesitantly tap the link someone sent me. A website materializes on my screen, and there it is—the nightmare I desperately wished to avoid upon waking.

The headline blazes across the screen, searing into my eyes:

“Marauders’ Goalie Caught in Scandalous Group Affair: Public Rendezvous or Just Team Bonding with the PT?”

I scroll further, my fingers shaking uncontrollably, and the images flash before me like a series of sharp slaps to the face.

The first few pictures seem harmless enough—Jinx and I, along with Bruno and Thomas, strolling through the park on a sunny afternoon. We’re all laughing, arms draped around each other’s shoulders, the vibrant green of the trees casting playful shadows on the path.

But as I scroll through the images, a heavy pit forms in my stomach. The next set of photos is a hellstorm.

There’s Jinx leaning in, her lips locked with Thomas, her fingers tangled in his hair. Then a shot of her kissing me, the angle capturing the startled look in my eyes.

Another shows Jinx perched on Bruno’s lap, his hands gripping her thighs tightly, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment. One particularly damning image catches us all mid-laugh, my hand caught in the act of playfully grabbing her ass.

And, finally, the worst of them all.

A blurry but undeniably suggestive picture taken behind a thick row of bushes.

The darkened forest light of dusk cloaks us in shadows, but the way Jinx is pressed between us, with our bodies entwined, it paints a lurid picture, making it easy for anyone to assume we were having a full-blown orgy in the woods.

A wave of nausea rolls over me.

I hastily exit the article and flip back to my texts, my heart plummeting with each message that flashes on the screen.

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