Page 26 of Cross Check Daddies
Sasha’s long gone, the dishes are done, and there’s no work I can pretend to throw myself into tonight. Not when the memory of that beach is still stuck in my head like sea salt on skin. Not when I’m still tasting sugar from the cake he dared me to eat, still feeling the softness of the sand under my feet as his hands found my waist and we swayed to a rhythm that existed only between our bodies.
I’d gone there hoping casual laughter and sunset colors would make it all disappear—this slow, creeping fascination I have with Tanner. Cam’s brother. The kid who used to chase us around school events with a popsicle in his hand, who’s now talland carved and looking at me like I’m something he’s always wanted.
The game’s loading screen flickers on, but I don’t sit. I stare at it, arms crossed over my chest.
I try to think about my latest storyline, the animations we need, the avatar tweaks—but my mind wanders. It loops right back to the way he touched my cheek so gently before he whispered that we’d just be friends. Like we both knew we were lying. Like we were seconds away from something neither of us would be able to laugh off later.
I’d pulled away. Told myself I had to. He’s my ex’s brother. And I already have an ex-husband who abandoned me and Jackson to chase his career and his ego. The same man who only remembers he has a child when it suits his schedule.
I’m not about to get dragged into another man’s orbit, no matter how good he smells or how warm his hand felt against my lower back.
I turn off the monitor and walk toward the big windows in the living room. The city is stretched out in front of me like a grid of promises, all glitter and noise.
The apartment still doesn’t feel entirely mine yet. It’s too polished, too open, too much space for one woman and a child. The couch is too white. The wine rack is still empty.
I press my hand to the cool glass and close my eyes. I should go to bed. But instead, I drift back to the kitchen, pour a single glass of wine, and sit on the edge of the island, letting my bare legs dangle.
The wine is dry, and my mouth is still a little sweet from earlier. I don’t even need to try to conjure the memory. It comes willingly.
Tanner, barefoot in the sand, laughing with his eyes crinkling at the corners. The way his fingers trailed up my spine when we danced. How close our mouths got. The hitch in his breathwhen I touched his chest. And then the question he asked me in the parking lot about Cam, and the way I dodged it because I couldn’t answer without cracking something open.
I might still have feelings for his brother, but I also can’t deny what I feel for Tanner.
It should be nothing. He should be nothing. Just a friendly face. But I know better. I know want when it settles into my skin like this. It’s like being lit from the inside out.
I finish the wine slowly, then rinse the glass. My body feels heavy with need and heat, a low ache humming beneath the surface of my skin. There’s no one watching, no judgment in this silence. Only me, standing in my kitchen, thinking about two brothers who have each, in their own way, changed the way I move through a room.
Cam was the beginning. Young, intense, reckless. And Tanner? He’s something else entirely. He’s warmth and patience and that slow-burn kind of charm that doesn’t ask for anything, just lets you lean into it until you’re sunk.
I walk toward the hallway, telling myself I’m going to bed. But the moment I pass by the mirror, I pause. My reflection stares back—hair messy from salt air, eyes too knowing. I trace the corner of my mouth with my fingertip and remember the way Tanner watched me, like he wanted to taste that corner.
I don’t need to do anything about it. I could sleep. Let the night pass. Keep pretending nothing is happening.
But when I reach my bedroom, I turn the lock.
And when I finally slide under the covers, the dark isn’t empty anymore. My mind fills it—two tall shadows. Cam, sharp jaw and memories of what we were. Tanner, golden skin and steady hands, and something in his eyes I don’t want to name.
Their voices blur in my head. One calling mesugarlike it used to be his right. The other murmuring my name like it’s new again.
I sigh, pulling the blanket tighter around my waist, eyes pressed shut against the glow of temptation.
Wanting is a dangerous thing. Especially when the thing you want comes in doubles, wrapped in family tension and unfinished stories.
But even with all the reasons to stop, my skin remembers every place Tanner touched. Every almost-kiss. Every smile that turned into a dare.
I shift in bed, restless. The heat has no outlet, no name I can cry out. But it lingers, anyway.
Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and drink my coffee and answer emails. I’ll pretend tonight never happened. That this craving isn’t real. That the King brothers don’t live in my thoughts.
But right now, in this moment, I let myself sink into the thought of their hands.
And I let the silence hold it for me.
I lie there for what feels like hours, twisted in sheets that feel too warm, every nerve awake and restless. The quiet stretches around me, thick and suffocating, but not enough to smother the tension burning low in my belly.
Eventually, I reach over to my nightstand drawer. The soft click of the handle opening is embarrassingly loud in the stillness. I bite my bottom lip and slide my hand inside, fingers closing around smooth silicone. I hesitate for only a second before slipping the toy beneath the covers.
My skin jumps the second it touches me. I sink deeper into the mattress, drawing my knees up, one arm flung over my eyes. The first pulse is soft, teasing. I increase the speed with a small flick of my thumb, the buzz sliding between my thighs like silk. My breath hitches, shallow and fast.
