ログインAMELIA The whole way to the Bugle, I can’t stop thinking about Dane. Granted, he and Dex look alike, but they couldn’t be more different.Though, it is unsettling to see the image of the man who wronged me and his daughter standing on my doorstep with those gigantic brown eyes looking at me with warmth.Warmth that my ex does not possess in the slightest.Of course, there’s also the physical attraction I feel, an echo of an attraction to someone else, but I found Dane appealing that night even before Dex ever showed up.I thought he was hot, but it wasn’t his looks that drew me in. It was his quiet, reserved personality. He was the only man at the bar who was reading a damn book.How could I not be intrigued by such a social rebel?I
DANEI know I shouldn’t be nervous about seeing Amelia, but fuck…just hearing her voice has me feeling like we’re going right back to that night. The one that changed my life forever.The entire walk up to Amelia’s apartment, I can’t deny my heart is in my damn throat. I play hockey for a living, and I swear even trying out for the Badgers didn’t make me this nervous, but the minute the door opens, I forget about everything else.My gaze meets those deep blue eyes and the world stops.She’s here. In front of me, after all this time, and somehow she looks even better than I remember. Even despite everything that’s happened…My brother is a fucking idiot.“Hi,” I say like a dumbass, with the smallest wave. Her dirty-blonde hair looks freshly curled, her lashes thick and full against her bright eyes. That perfect pout of hers, glossy and plump enough that it makes my damn cock twitch. I shift my stance, because that’s not what I’m here for.I don’t miss the way those bright eyes widen at
AMELIAI never thought I would be here, in this car, heading back to Barrington, Kentucky. With a baby in my back seat.Though, to be fair, I should have known my whirlwind romance with Dexter Rose, number 69 for the Saltsville Stingrays, would crash and burn eventually, because that’s what Dex is.A five-alarm fire that burns through everything in his path.One look at the rearview mirror tells me our daughter, four-month-old Lyla, is still out like a light, which makes me feel a little better about the long drive.After finding out about Dex’s wife, and his three other children—with other women—I didn’t know what else to do. I could have forgiven him for not being at the hospital. Maybe I could have even worked past the cheating with some counseling or something. But being married and having kids with her and two other women? Abso-fucking-lutely not.The memory tries to slip back into my psyche, but I push it away, instead reaching for the radio. I flip through the stations, but alm
PARKERJack stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Let’s take her to the desk.”“Agreed,” Gavin says, already clearing the top.Harrison lifts me easily, sets me down on the cool wood with my knees apart, arms still bound, lips swollen from kisses, breath ragged from the comedown. I feel like a goddess. Like prey. Like I’m theirs.Gavin slides my legs wider apart with a slow, unhurried confidence that turns my bones to syrup. His palms are warm against my knees as he leans in, letting his mouth hover just above where Jack left me messy and sensitive.“You’re still trembling,” he murmurs, like he’s proud of that.“Maybe because Jack tried to devour me,” I say, breathless.Jack grins. “You’re welcome.”Before I can reply, Gavin lowers his mouth, tongue stroking deep and slow—so different from Jack’s frenzied pace. Gavin eats like a man with something to prove, every pass deliberate, every moan from me met with more pressure, more praise.Harrison stands behind me, brushing
PARKERThe Marigold Project has been a success. Not perfect, but we’re getting there. We’ve housed more kids than our projections said we would, and we’re just getting started. I should be celebrating.Instead, I’m working late. Again.I know, I know, work-life balance, blah, blah, blah. But I can’t help it. We’ve been operational for just over a year, and we’ve done so much good already. This is important work. I have no idea how doctors clock out. When I’m home, I can’t turn off my Marigold brain. I’m thinking about the next kid we can help. And the one after that.I hear the knock before I even finish saving the last document. Three soft raps at the rear office door—my door. No one uses that one except staff during daylight hours… and them.I smile before I even stand. “You’re lucky I just finished,” I call out as I head to unlock it. “If this is about dinner, I’ve got leftover Thai in the—”The words die in my throat when I see them.Jack stands just outside the threshold in jean
PARKERJack walks in carrying four glasses—neat bourbon for Harrison, red wine for Gavin and me, and a flute of something bubbly for himself, because of course he thinks champagne makes him the fun one. He hands me my wine with a grin, his thumb brushing the side of my palm.“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now.“Better than okay.”Gavin’s already seated on the sectional, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, one arm draped along the backrest like he’s waiting for someone to crawl into his lap and take what’s theirs.That someone is me. But I want to make them work for it.I let Harrison lead me toward the couch, but I don’t sit. I sip my wine slowly, turning so my robe slips just enough at the shoulder to show skin.It’s been months since I had the chance to simply feel wanted. Not in passing. Not in sleepy half-murmurs during midnight feedings. I want to be craved. Touched. Worshiped. They all watch me now, tuned in to the same frequency, like I’ve flipped a switch in the room.Gavin
PARKERLevi barrels down the walkway, his bare feet thudding against the stone path that winds from the front door of our house down to the gate. “Grandma’s here!” he yells, turning his head just long enough to shout back toward the living room, where Lyra is still struggling to zip her weekend bag
HARRISONTwo hours later, I’ve got three burner emails from contacts who are already combing through Icon’s metadata and corporate back end. If the audio leak came from their system—and I’m positive it did—they’ll find the signature.They always do.But I’m still wound tight. Too tight. My whole bo
HARRISONThere are bad mornings, and then there’s this one.I’m on my third espresso by the time Bryce Aoki shows up. She’s not on the calendar, which pisses off our front desk—but Bryce doesn’t give a shit about protocol. She never has.She walks in wearing black silk pants, platform boots, a cher
GAVINI let the silence settle for a second. Two. Then I speak, voice sharp. “You’re worried about judgment? Invite Vanessa to the next board meeting. Maybe she can leak the minutes while she’s there.”Vivian’s mouth tightens. Just a little. “She made mistakes,” she says carefully. “But she’s still







