Chapter 32

Chapter 32
Angie

Angie had just completed a wholly unsatisfying sponge bath—which first, why was it called a freaking bath when she hardly felt any cleaner after it? And second, was wholly sponge free—when she met her gaze in her bathroom mirror.
Bruising covered the side of her face but a bandage hid the worst of it—sixteen stitches and two staples in her scalp.
Frankenstein, she was.
Sighing, she dropped her towel then went into her bedroom to slip on a pair of sweats and a hoodie.
This was a no bra and no underwear day, m’kay? She figured she’d earned it.
Especially after the police had come to the hospital last night and taken her statement.
For hours.
Which had been an exercise in uselessness as far as she was concerned, considering that she hadn’t seen anything other than a flash of movement.
The only beneficial thing was that she’d found out her attacker had been Suzanne.
No stranger she had to worry about attacking again, no stalker waiting in the bushes, just a deranged ex-wife that would be locked up for a long time.
Which should have been equally concerning, but Angie had already been through this before. She knew she wasn’t going to slip back down the path of not living her life, of locking herself away out of fear.
Nope. No way. She’d take some precautions, adjust her bearings, and keep on living.
But how to make Max see that he needed to do the same? Understandably, he had been freaked out last night. His ex-wife had snapped, put his son at risk. That would make anyone panic and lash out.
Not that she was a glutton for punishment or ready to be someone’s punching bag. She had worth and deserved to be treated as such, but even the most casual observer had to understand that sometimes there were extenuating circumstances, and Max having his son kidnapped by his crazy ex certainly fit into those.
Angie was ready to put his outburst aside, to move on.
What she wasn’t ready for was to give up something precious that she’d fought her fears and anxiety to obtain.
She finally had a family, dammit, and she wasn’t giving them up.
After struggling with her hoodie zipper for a minute, she managed to get it lined up and zipped.
And not a moment too soon.
Because there was a knock at the door.
She sighed, hurrying over. It was probably Mandy even though she’d told her not to come.
“I’m fine—”
Her words dried up at the sight in front of her.
Two Stormtroopers stood on her threshold.
“Um . . .”
Yes. Not her finest moment of dialogue, but it wasn’t often that two cinematic characters stood on her doorstep.
The little one held up a giant bouquet of roses.
Angie took it. “Aren’t you a little short for a Stormtrooper?”
She couldn’t help it; the situation was just too perfect to not quote a line from the original Star Wars film.
(Star Wars: A New Hope if she were being technical).
Brayden tore off his helmet, revealing a huge grin. “I knew you’d say that!” He turned and grabbed the other Stormtrooper’s hand. “Dad! You were right.”
Max started to extend a box in her direction then seemed to notice her hand and halted. He tucked it under his arm then tugged off his helmet. “Hi,” he said.
God, he was pretty.
Black hair mussed. Blue eyes bright with emotion.
“Hi.”
His lips—the ones she loved to kiss—twitched. “Hi.”
They were such dorks, and she loved him so much and so she continued along their usual tack. “Hi.”
Brayden pushed by her. “Can we go in now? Where’s Sammy? Can I pet him?”
“Sure—” Angie began, but Max cleared his throat and raised a brow. “Bray.”
Brayden spun on a dime and launched himself at Angie. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
She smiled, hugging him tight, careful to not whack him with her cast or the flowers. “I’m glad you’re okay. That was scary.”
“Yeah.” A sage nod.
She bent, whispered, “You need to talk about it?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.”
“Can I go see Sammy now?”
“Sure.” She pointed to the bedroom. “He was sleeping on the windowsill last I saw.”
Brayden tore off down the hall, leaving her alone with Max and suddenly feeling nervous. Maybe this was just a pity visit. Or the precursor to a kiss-off-and-leave-him-alone. Or—
What had that been about her fighting for what she wanted?
Well . . . it had certainly been a lot easier going in her mind.
Max took the flowers from her hands and headed for the kitchen. He found a vase on his second try of her cabinets then plunked the bouquet into the water.
“Here,” he said, handing her the box.
“Um.”
“Open it first. Then we can—”
His eyes were so serious that she found she had to break the tension. “There better not be confetti in here.”
Max shook his head, the barest trace of a smile on his lips. “No confetti.”
She tore one corner of the wrapping paper, stopped, and sighed. “Why am I so nervous?”
He took her good hand, used it to continue tearing the paper off. “Because I was a total jackass, and you deserved better. I was panicked, but—”
“I get it—” she began.
“Well, I don’t.” He tossed the paper aside. “You’re important, Angel. And fuck, but I love you so much. Last night was . . . a supremely shitty way to show it. I was out of my mind and horrible and—”
“Max.”
“I need you to see,” he said, “that I will never treat you like that again. I was all ramped up and ready to play the martyr, to try and survive without you because it would be quote-unquote better for me to focus on my son.”
Her heart twisted. Maybe that was better?
“I—”
“But you know what I realized? This morning, I saw your gift. Just cereal, but so you—thoughtful and sweet.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t just the gift itself. Brayden was so excited because you included him in it. Same as he was thrilled to go with you to the game last night and to invite you to the concert.” His hands were trembling now, the box rattling in their shared hold. “I realized that you don’t just make my life better. You make Brayden’s life better, too.”
She inhaled rapidly. “I love you both. But I understand if you need to keep it just the two of you. I’d like to be friends with you and him at the very least, but—”
“Open it.” He inclined his chin toward the box, which was now paper-free, but the plain cardboard did nothing to reveal its contents.
Angie gave him a questioning look.
What was in that damned box that was so important?
His eyes warmed. “Never mind. I’ll do it.” And he took off the lid.
“Oh.” She sniffed, tears immediately welling up. “Dammit!” She smacked him, but it wasn’t out of anger. She was so incredibly touched, and now he was going to turn her into a watering pot.
Because inside that box was the cartoon drawing from an artist on the pier. The one who drew little caricatures of people and families. Only this one had been done in the theme of Star Wars.
Max was there, along with Brayden, Anna, and Sparky.
And Angie was there, too.
She was in their family drawing.
“Fuck,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes.
Because Sammy was there, too.
“Fuck’s a bad word,” Brayden said, coming up behind her and surprising her with another hug. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Dad says it more.”
She met Max’s amused gaze. “It’s true,” he said with a shrug.
Brayden tugged her good hand. “Do you like it?”
“I love it so much,” she told him.
“And you’ll be part of our family?”
“I would love that more than anything in the world.”
He smiled and Max set the box down on her kitchen counter. “Go play with Sammy for a few minutes. I’m going to kiss Angie now.”
“Ew.”
Brayden ran back down the hall.
“Really?” she asked, raising a brow. “You had to tell him that?”
“He’ll need to get used to the idea,” Max said, tugging her close. “I plan on kissing you a lot.”
Her lips curved. “Yeah?”
He nuzzled the curve of her jaw, nibbled at her ear lobe. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” she said, affecting Brayden’s tone.
They both burst into laughter, Max’s hot breath on her neck making her shiver. “I thought you were going to kiss me,” she teased when they both had regained control of themselves.
“That’s the plan,” he told her and cupped her face in both palms. “I just—I don’t want you to forgive me so easily. I was a real ass—”
She cupped one of his cheeks in turn, the unwieldy cast getting in her way on the other. “Damn, you really are determined to hold on to that martyr card, huh?” Her lips found his for a short kiss. “I was already cooking up a plan because I wasn’t going to let you push me away from the best thing in my life.”
“Thing?” he asked. “You mean Brayden?”
“No,” she said then hurried to add before he could misinterpret her, “I mean, he’s wonderful, but what I really meant was that I wasn’t going to let you push me away from my family.” She smiled. “Luckily for us both, you came to your senses before I had to jump you and force you to see reason.”
Max paused, head tilting as though considering. “How exactly were you going to jump me?”
Angie snorted. “Don’t you want to know?”
“I do,” he said, laughing. “I really do.”
“Maybe I’ll show you sometime,” she teased, bringing her mouth close and her body flush to his. Her breasts brushed his chest, her pelvis pressed firmly against the hard ridge of his erection.
“Torturing me?” He raised a brow when she grinned.
“You like it.”
“I do.”
“So”—she tapped a finger to her chin—“when’s that kissing coming?”
He opened his mouth, ready with another quip, then closed it and shook his head. Because puns and teasing and jokes didn’t matter. Not when his woman wanted him to kiss her. And so he brought his lips to hers and kissed her—soft, sweet, almost leisurely.
“Now,” he told her, when he paused to let her breathe. “And forever.”
She wrapped her good arm around his neck, rose up on tiptoe.
“That I can live with.”
And then he kissed her again.

EPILOGUE

Blue, Six Months Later

Blue walked into Max’s backyard, his latest girl on his arm.
He’d met her at the bar last night and they’d fucked like rabbits until the sun came up. Then they’d fucked some more.
Now, he was making the requisite appearance at Max’s engagement party.
He was happy for his friends . . . for all of them.
But fuck, he was the last of the guys.
The final holdout.
The only single one.
Which wasn’t really a fair assessment because there were other guys on the team who were single or divorced, but Blue wasn’t that close to them.
Not like he was with Brit, Stefan, Blane, and Max.
They had been his people from his rookie season, and they’d taken him under their respective wings.
And now they were all married or engaged or had cute little babies.
Yes, he got that he was younger than them, knew that he had plenty of time to sow his wild oats and still have a family.
But all Blue knew was that it was getting damned old coming home to an empty house all the time.
“There are kids here,” his date Bindi—or Bambi or Bobbi, because fuck if he could remember—said and her tone told him that she equated children with the seventh circle of hell.
“Yeah,” he said. “The guys have a lot of kids.”
Her face puckered with disgust, and suddenly Blue wasn’t remembering how good of a hand job Bindi or Bambi or Bobbi could give, but how happy Angie had been when Max had proposed on the Golden Gate Bridge.
Blue wanted that.
Not this.
“You know what?” he said, taking Bindi or Bambi or Bobbi’s hand in his and tugging her toward the front of the house, while he pulled out his cell with his other. “This will be lame. Why don’t I text you later when I’m done?”
Calling an Uber took seconds.
Untangling the octopus Bindi or Bambi or Bobbi upon the car’s arrival took longer.
Much longer.
But finally, he managed to pack her into the car and sighed with relief as it drove away.
Until he turned and saw her.
Anna.
Who always looked at him with glarey eyes and a pissy expression.
“There’s my Ice Queen,” he said, moving past her and heading back to the party. He’d congratulate the couple then go the fuck back to his empty apartment.
“Doesn’t it get old?” Anna asked, trailing after him.
“Doesn’t what get old?” he countered, snagging a beer from a nearby table.
“Being a fucking sleaze.”
Blue froze then shook his head. “You don’t know me.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “I know plenty of guys like you. Fuck anything that moves, never sleep with the same girl twice, and too wrapped up in your own damned cock to be a good lay.”
She’d gotten his rage pretty ramped until the last statement.
That last one though?
It had tempered his anger.
He was good in bed. Really fucking good. In fact, Blue made it a point to make sure anyone he slept with had a better time than him. And that wasn’t ego talking, sex just wasn’t fun for him if his partner didn’t orgasm at least twice.
He was an overachiever, what could he say?
Ah. Now there was his ego talking.
Smirking, Blue tapped his chin. “Sounds like a personal problem to me. Maybe you’re too cold in the sack to enjoy yourself. Or maybe you freeze a guys’ cock off with your Ice Princess powers.”
Anna huffed. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
Blue jerked his chin toward the front of the house. “That’s what she said.”
As Anna flounced off, Blue couldn’t stop himself from watching her ass, because as much as he teased her about being icy during their interactions, he had the feeling she was very much fire under all that frost.
Not that he’d find out.
He and Anna were oil and water, two tomcats fighting over territory or, metaphors aside, they just always managed to get on each other’s nerves.
And while he couldn’t deny she was hot and gorgeous, Blue wanted a little more peace in his life when he found the right woman.
He wanted a girlfriend who didn’t constantly poke and antagonize but was sweet and gentle and kind. Like Sara. Like Angie. Yes, that made him an egotistical asshole—that he wanted a pretty and nice girl at home—but there it was.
Blue had enough stress in his career that he wanted to keep it simple at home.
Who could fault him for that?
He socialized for a while, congratulating the happy couple and wishing them the best, played with Max’s son, Brayden, on the trampoline for a bit—which turned out to be a lot longer than a bit because once one kid saw him use the platform to launch Brayden in the air, Blue suddenly was begged and pleaded by all the kiddos to have a turn.
And then another.
So, by the time he dragged his tired ass out of the trampoline, the party was breaking up.
He said his goodbyes and headed for the driveway, pulling out his cell for Uber round two.
“Baby Blues.” He turned, saw Anna getting into a Prius. “Need a ride?”
He raised his brows. “You going to freeze my balls off?”
A sexy smile. “You know it.”
“I think I’ll take my chances with the Uber.”
“Chicken.”
Blue rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”
“Buck-buck,” she clucked. “Buck-buck-buuuck.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re a chicken.” She sat down in the driver’s seat, started to close the door.
Blue sighed, sought patience from heaven. It didn’t matter what she said.
But then his eyes drifted back over to her car, and she was looking at him with that annoying ass smirk. “Fine,” he grumbled and stomped over to her Prius, opening the door and dropping down into the passenger’s seat with a huff.
“Was that so terrible?” she teased.
“The worst.”
Anna flicked on the radio, filling the airwaves with classic rock. Which surprised him—he’d figured she would be more of a pop girl. But before he could ask her about it, she turned up the volume and backed out of the driveway.
He had to shout directions to his place over the noise, but that was probably her intention. And it wasn’t like he lived far or that they were complicated.
Hell, he should probably be grateful that she’d saved him the extra aggravation of having to converse with her.
Ten minutes later, she pulled into his driveway and put the car into park.
Only then did she turn down the volume.
“Your humble abode,” she said, sweeping a hand toward the little cottage tucked into a hillside south of San Francisco. It was ridiculously expensive and still mostly empty, but it was home and, as an army brat, probably the most settled he’d ever been in his whole life.
“Yup,” he said, reaching for the handle. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Try not to go out and get a fresh bimbo to ride tonight. I hear STIs on are the rise in the city.”
Blue sighed, turned back to face her. “Really?”
She shrugged, smirk teasing the edges of her mouth, drawing his focus to the lushness of her lips. “Just watching out for Max’s teammate.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not hardly.”
“Okay, how about I’m trying to prevent you from spreading STIs to the female populace.”
“I’m clean, and I’m smart,” he told her. “Condoms all the way.”
“Ew.”
Except there was something about the way she said it that made Blue stiffen and take notice. Because . . . he stared into her eyes, watched as the pale blue darkened to royal, saw her lips part, and her suck in a breath.
Holy shit.
“You’re attracted to me.”
Her jaw dropped. “No fucking way,” she said, too quickly, pink dancing on the edges of her cheekbones. “You’re delusional.”
Blue got close.
Real close.
Anna licked her lips.
And fuck it all, he kissed that luscious mouth.