All Chapters of After Hours: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The day started early.Too early for a Sunday, but Johnny didn’t mind. Not when he woke to the sound of small feet padding across the wood floor and a soft voice whispering, “Daddy… wake up.”Johnny blinked into the soft morning light and smiled at the mop of blonde hair sticking up in every direction.“You ready for our big day, bud?”John grinned and nodded. “Can we get donuts first?”“You kidding? It’s the law. Daddy-and-son outings require donuts.”The boy giggled, then reached out and poked Johnny’s cheek. “You still got sleepy face.”Johnny reached out and grabbed him, tickling his sides until John dissolved into laughter, squealing and kicking. From the doorway, Alli leaned on the frame with a sleepy smile, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her belly rounding out in front of her.“You boys going or just wrestling in bed all day?”Johnny sat up, John now clinging to his back like a monkey. “We’re going. Just needed to warm up.”Alli walked over and kissed John on the he

: All Night LongAlli’s POVThe house was too quiet.Too still.Too… deliciously free.Alli leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest as she watched Johnny load John’s overnight bag into the backseat of his mom’s car. John was already bouncing inside, chattering excitedly about cartoons and pancakes and staying up “way past bedtime.” Grandma, of course, was more than willing to spoil him for the weekend.Johnny shut the door and leaned down to kiss John through the window. Alli’s heart clenched—he was such a natural. The way he knelt, the way he smiled, the way he adjusted John’s seatbelt like it was the most important thing he’d ever do. The guilt of keeping them apart for years still lingered in her chest, but nights like this helped to soothe the ache.When Johnny turned and caught her staring, his brow lifted in that smug, delicious way of his.“You gonna miss the little guy already?” he asked, walking toward her.Her lips curled as she backed into the house. “Mmhm.

The Long Weekend (Part Two)Alli’s POVThe early afternoon sunlight spilled in warm golden streaks across the hardwood floors, catching on the floating dust motes and wrapping the farmhouse in a gentle, romantic haze. Alli was stretched out across the rumpled couch, one bare leg tangled in a blanket, her hair in a wild halo around her head, her lips still kiss-swollen and parted.Johnny was in the kitchen, shirtless, humming a low, gravelly tune as he rifled through her cabinets for eggs. His hair was tousled from sleep—or more accurately, from her hands—and there were faint red scratches on his shoulders that made her smirk.She’d marked him.And he hadn’t complained once.Alli curled onto her side, her belly rounding softly beneath the blanket, and just watched him. Watched how his back moved when he leaned forward, how the muscles in his arms flexed with the smallest of tasks, how his eyes crinkled when he found the pancake mix.God, he was beautiful. Dangerous. Completely, stupidl

Signed in Ink, Sealed in BloodJohnny’s POVThe Mississippi sun filtered through the streaked glass windows of the old courthouse, casting golden halos across the dull tile floor. Johnny Warren stood in front of the clerk’s desk, heart pounding louder than the creaky ceiling fan spinning lazily above him. In his hand, he held the pen. In his chest, everything he’d ever been afraid to want.Next to him, Alli stood calm and beautiful in a flowing white sundress, her growing belly outlined beneath soft fabric. Five months along now. He couldn’t stop glancing at her—her hand resting lightly on her bump, her posture steady, her presence like a dam holding back the tidal wave of emotion building inside him.It had taken months to get here. Months of nights at her farmhouse, of being called Daddy by a little boy who didn’t know any different. Months of bedtime stories and greasy hands teaching him how to twist a wrench and recognize the sound of a good engine. Johnny had already been this ki

Alli’s POVThe weeks passed like pages fluttering in the wind—quick, quiet, and full of change.It was early spring now, the kind of Southern spring that warmed your bones by sunrise and left your skin sticky with heat by noon. Wildflowers grew along the gravel road that led to the farmhouse, and the goats in the back pasture were fat and happy. The trees buzzed with life, and so did Alli.She was six months pregnant.That meant swollen ankles, insomnia, backaches, and an embarrassing need to cry at everything from cereal commercials to Johnny’s soft morning smiles—but also a swelling sense of peace. A nesting instinct had taken over, and every corner of the house reflected it. The pantry was reorganized, the linen closet had labels, and the nursery was half-painted—one wall a soft sage green, the other still a promise.Johnny helped with what he could. He pretended not to notice when she snapped at him for folding the baby’s onesies “the wrong way,” and kissed her stomach every night