ker0senebunny - Tumblr blog

ker0senebunny · 16 days ago

Text

WE ARE SO BACK

Endgame

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your dad knows. Now what?

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Age gap. Daddy kink. Breeding kink. Semi-public sex. Creampie. Squirting. Belly bulge. Drinking and drug use. They’re horny and IN LOVE, your honor. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk!

Note: This is the song I see Tess and Reader dancing to LOL

Word count: 16.5k

dividers by the lovely @saradika 💞

You looked beautiful walking down the aisle.

Really, in this floor-length gown, bouquet poised comfortably in front of you, and your hair styled to perfection, Joel Miller was certain he’d never seen a prettier sight in his life. You were walking to him, smiling.

He stood at the end of that aisle, in front of all your family and friends, sweating bullets and in disbelief.

Now would be a terrible time for his dick to get hard.

What with the way the lace and tulle were hugging your frame and how fitted those fucking black slacks were on the outline of his own lower half, he could probably be fully erect and showing everybody in attendance just how attracted he was to you now, and then what would happen? The wedding would get cancelled? Postponed?

Sorry folks, the man of the hour has a boner the size of Texas tucked under his briefs; can he get a day to relax?

No, he’d need a week for that, at least.

Seven full days of doing nothing but fucking you straight through the mattress could put a dent in the hard-on he was about to be sporting. He was a terrible person for it.

Still, you beamed at him with a look that said you’d love him for the rest of your life, and that was all that mattered in the moment. It was most of what consumed Joel’s thoughts as you made the procession toward him.

For better, for worse.

For richer, for poorer.

In sickness and in health.

To love and to—

“Fuck,” Joel muttered under his breath.

Beside him, his best friend—your father—shot him a look

That gaze told him everything he needed to know. Essentially: ‘Stop eyefucking my kid or I’ll kill you.’

And Joel knew he meant it.

He had the scar on his right temple to prove it. A mostly healed orbital fracture that still gave his old, weathered face a tougher look these days. Bruises gone but not entirely forgotten. The memory of his friend holding his head underwater for at least a minute, maybe longer.

That was after Mark had caught him kissing you once.

The first time he ever came to learn that his friend had been fucking his daughter for the last several months.

Mark had almost murdered him that day.

Now, he was standing beside him on his wedding day.

Joel blinked, and someone was clearing their throat. He couldn’t be sure how much time had passed, but he sensed it was probably time for him to grab the rings.

Then hand them over to his friend.

Since, you know, it was Mark’s big day.

Joel was just the best man, and you were one of the bridesmaids now standing across the way from him. Your expression was lax, to the point of looking almost bored, and Joel didn’t miss the way your brows raised slightly while you watched the ring exchange take place in front of you. Slyly, your eyes flitted to his; your lips twitched.

Dad and Helen picked the ugliest fucking bands, huh?

Joel had to bite back a smirk seeing that.

You were right. This was weird: begrudgingly accepting parts in the wedding of your father and his first love-former mistress and pretending like it wasn’t odd.

Given the fact that your dad had very begrudgingly accepted you and Joel as a couple after almost six months together, though, he wasn’t about to complain. No one could have predicted that the man who had beat him mercilessly in the ocean with a travel mug and almost put him in a coma would now have him as his best man and invite him out to dinner on a semi-regular basis. Joel would say this arrangement was just fine.

Ideal, even.

Right up until the time he’d divulge to his friend that he planned on marrying you someday, this would be great.

Mark was open-minded, and he tolerated having Joel around for now dating his only daughter, but that was mostly because you’d refused to see or speak to your dad in the weeks following his little ‘outburst’ in Galveston. After Joel had been concussed and kept in the hospital for close to a week pending a neuro eval, you’d sworn you would never let your father near you until he’d apologized to Joel and ‘calmed the fuck down.’

Joel reckoned that his friend seemed pretty sedate as he kissed his bride and turned toward the crowd, celebrating the vows they’d just taken.

You cheered with them.

You smiled sweetly enough, clapping and looking as breathtaking as he’d ever seen you, and your gaze lingered with them for maybe ten, fifteen seconds.

Then it drifted back to him.

It always went back to him, and Joel would never get used to it for as long as he lived. With a smile that was almost forlorn and fingers that were practically itching to put a ring on yours, he clapped, too, and he watched you.

Before he knew it, the ceremony was over.

The real party didn’t start until ten o’clock.

After a brief intermission spent traveling to the reception hall on the outskirts of Austin and pregaming hard with Tommy and Tess all the way, you feared you might topple over before ever setting foot on the property. You cradled a miniature green BuzzBall in your left hand and a flask of something strong and cheap in your right. Your dad just got married again, and you planned to drink until that stopped feeling weird to say. Just like your father probably thought each time he looked at you and Joel.

Fuck it. That was a problem to consider for another day. Right now, if you could get Joel to quit looking at you so strangely and try to enjoy this completely free boozefest, you’d be much better off. If you could decipher that look, and maybe stop worrying about the way the maid of honor—Helen’s sister—kept ogling him, you’d be set.

Tess hooked an arm around your neck and pulled you close. Her grin was wide and easy, and her eyes were semi-glazed as they scanned your immediate surroundings. You were just strolling in, the rest of the wedding party not too far behind, and music was blaring inside the rustic, spacious barn-turned-reception-venue.

“Odds of me nailing someone tonight…?” she started.

“Did F.E.D.R.A. abstinence camp teach you nothing?”

You made an effort to sound serious, but then the façade cracked in less than a second. Just remembering the time Tommy Miller had shipped you and Joel off to an anti-sex retreat, where you and Tess had met, was enough to send you both giggling your asses off. You had a sneaking suspicion your friend’s laughter was from more than just the booze, though, if you’d had to guess.

“Dude, are you fucking high?” you whispered, shrill.

Tess put a finger to her lips, as if keeping the truth secret, and you shoved her off. Playfully. Begging.

“Coke? Weed? Addy? I need you to share.”

And though you’d been trying to wean yourself off the party drugs before graduating college, tonight was different. You were letting loose more than you normally would, drunk on bottom-shelf spirits and changed into a tight, bright pink bodycon dress you’d recycled from a frat semi-formal years ago. You were teetering on heels.

“I can get y’all weed,” Tommy supplied in a second, sidling up next to you. “Gimme five and we’ll be good.”

You shot him a sidelong look, curious. The man had been livelier and brighter than you’d seen him in years since proposing to Maria a few weeks back. It made sense.

“Yeah, Dad? You got the hookup?” you teased.

“Fuck off,” Tommy chuckled, barely hiding his smirk.

Then he held up his hand, as if to say five minutes, and you believed him. He disappeared somewhere down a nearby hallway, and at the same time, the DJ at the front of the room made a too-smooth transition from one yacht rock classic to another. It reminded you of the time you’d celebrated your dad’s fifty-first birthday on a boat, and absently, you wondered whether Joel might not be available for a repeat partaking in what you did on the bridge deck together. You looked around, gravitating with Tess toward the open dance floor while you did.

Grinding to a Boz Scaggs song while everybody else was just starting to get their bearings arguably wasn’t your hottest look, but right now, neither one of you cared.

You took the center of the room while the rest of the massive group filtered in, both your family and friends and Helen’s all around, and the crowd grew quickly. String lights looped between beams overhead bathed the space in a warm yellow glow, and you knew that you could get used to this scene easily. You liked the music being played, and you loved the feeling coursing gently through your veins. The only thing that would make this moment better is if you could spot the elusive best man.

You’d agreed to keep it lowkey. Try not to make your father’s big day about you and Joel and your no-longer-secret relationship while you celebrated this occasion. But it was hard. You hadn’t been able to help but notice that Joel was treading around you a little differently than before, as if he were being extra careful not to say or do anything that might draw negative attention. That might’ve been because this was your first full-family event since you’d first started dating out in the open, and it was probably freaking Joel out a little. How do you explain dating the groom’s daughter, who also happens to be decades younger than you? What were the rules?

Apparently, Joel’s M.O. had been to stare at you intently for half the wedding ceremony, smiling in a strange and appreciative and partly inscrutable way, and then make himself scarce after. Leading you to wonder if maybe…

No, he was committed.

He was definitely committed.

Your future and his might not have been entirely secure, seeing as you were graduating in less than a month and were still waiting to see if you’d gotten that job in Austin or would have to keep searching—possibly even move out of state if you couldn’t lock down the right position.

It was scary. Growing, moving, changing in ways you couldn’t fully anticipate. Even as you bumped and grinded mindlessly with Tess, shoulders loose and hips swaying without any concern for the people dancing around you, you still worried. You always had that fear.

“I just love him so much,” you mumbled softly into Tess’s ear. The tunes had shifted to something old and country-western, and your heart swelled a little at the sound of it.

“I can tell.” Tess grinned, turning her head.

She didn’t need to say anything beyond that. Your friend clasped your hand in hers and made you do a spin, and without thinking, you did it. It made you kind of woozy.

Maybe weed was off the table.

Maybe you could enjoy this night without a medley of odd intoxicants, and you and Joel could just drive off into the night, head back to his place, and show each other just how much you loved each other, even if the next few months were the furthest thing from decided right now.

You hoped it would be enough; as you drifted toward a buffet table chock-full of hors d’oeuvres and started feasting with Tess, you really hoped that it would last.

With Joel, maybe a future wasn’t impossible. Maybe—

“—these fucking Rice Krispies are insane,” Tess cut in.

You inhaled another big, sugary clump and agreed. Your hands had been in just about every dish on this table, and, not surprisingly, it had been the sweet baked treats that kept your attention. You were devouring the shit, oblivious to any judging looks from the other guests.

Tess stuffed another in her mouth and moaned.

“If I could fuck a baked good…” you trailed off.

At the same time, a new person appeared beside you. Her face was flushed, and she was dressed just as you had been before—wearing a floor-length, mint green frock that sort of reminded you of a dentist’s office—as, apparently, she didn’t mind getting a little bit sweaty in the bridesmaid gown. She looked stunning anyway, and her face was radiant looking over the table. Then at Tess.

Her name was Sue. She was Helen’s cousin and undeniably one of the coolest people in that family.

She fucking hated the rings, too.

And some of the food, apparently.

“The Fettuccine Alfredo tastes like ass,” she remarked as soon as she’d gotten close enough for you and Tess to hear her over the music. “Anything OK to eat over here?”

“Rice Krispies,” Tess answered her through a mouthful.

Then she offered her one, and you got the sense that your friend just might get what she was hoping for earlier. Sue met her gaze with a grin and took the treat.

“Lovely. Thanks.” Then she took a big bite.

You peered curiously over her shoulder, for some reason feeling like something was around, though you weren’t sure what. Call it a sixth sense—or else just paranoia.

“Lucy really wants that guy, I think.”

Sue had just swallowed and was turning away, following your gaze to where it had conveniently landed on her cousin, the MOH. Your stomach churned for no discernible reason when you finally saw Joel beside her.

He wasn’t even looking at her.

He seemed bored to be standing, rolling a shoulder in his taut, precisely-tailored suit jacket and shifting a flute of champagne from one hand into the other. He looked debonair, completely in keeping with his surroundings.

To your dismay, you realized he also looked incredible standing next to Lucy, who was then wearing a long, strapless, cerulean dress and had her gaze latched onto him. Maybe because of this, and wanting to stifle that thought, you replied to Sue as honestly as you could.

“I don’t blame her. Such a hunk, isn’t he?”

That was the understatement of the century.

By the look in Lucy’s eyes, she wanted to eat him alive.

“She’s a matchmaker, I mean. Got this swanky, fun ass job in New York City and is always looking for recruits—even if they’re out here. You’d be amazed how many people would be willing to do long distance for a man like him.” And with a stab of her pointer finger in Joel’s direction, Sue indicated that you had the complete package on your hands. As if you didn’t already know it.

“Oh,” you said, pretending to mull the thought over.

“Well, Joel’s actually her—” Tess started to say.

“Daddy!” you gasped, caught off-guard.

Just then, the groom materialized beside you. Your dad was sweating, toting two beers in one hand and looking like he’d just run a mile. His bow tie was loose, and he had a dazed, sunny expression on his face. He sighed.

“My darlin’ daughter,” he slurred, all tender adulation.

The motherfucker was drunk.

Maybe buzzed off of something else.

“Hi, Dad,” you greeted him. You smothered a smile when he mauled you with a hug and almost dropped his beers.

“Great party, huh? I oughta do this shit more often.”

“Get…married?” Sue replied. Hopefully not again…

“Yeah,” your dad barked a laugh. “‘S’fun, ain’t it?”

“My cousin Lucy makes it happen for a living.”

“No shit!”

And if your skull weren’t throbbing so hard, you probably would’ve paid attention to the rest of that conversation. It went on for another five, ten, maybe even twenty-five minutes before you realized you hadn’t been tuning in. You were too busy watching Joel, seeing him occasionally talk to Lucy and feeling irrationally…off. Not that you suspected the two of anything but that she looked so damn good next to him. She was probably fifteen years older than you and seemed to fit your boyfriend in a way that you never thought possible. As it was, whatever you’d had to drink before seemed to be taking a double effect and then some; your head swam.

It felt like you were starting to float, almost.

You rubbed at your temples and blinked twice.

And, right as you were contemplating taking a step away for a breather of some kind, you heard your dad’s voice loud above all the rest of the crowd and the music then:

“She single herself? She looks to be about…Joel’s age.”

He didn’t even try to hide it.

He was drunk and trying to pawn his friend off—jokingly, of course. Using just enough humor in his tone not to piss you off completely, but you knew that he meant it.

You shook your head. It felt even lighter than it had before, and your fingers had begun to tingle with some discomfort. Venturing a step back, and cocking your head sideways toward the exit as you mapped out your impending escape, you felt a presence behind you.

“Wade!” A grin spread across your father’s face.

You turned and saw him. This wasn’t a complete surprise, as you’d spotted the man at the ceremony before—his family and yours had always been close, and he’d apparently had some spare time to visit—but your body was in shambles. Your heart rate had kicked up.

You weren’t sure what else to do, so you reached for the arm of your old childhood best friend, who was now standing beside you, and you tugged it lightly. Your stomach clenched for reasons unknown to you, and completely unrelated to the man whose elbow you were holding, and then you leaned over. Your voice was low.

“Hey, Wade. Wanna, uh…go outside for a sec?”

Two brows jumped up, and he nodded.

Before long, the two of you were strolling outside the building, through the two huge double doors and then drawing toward the patio in the back. You could only imagine what Tess and your father were thinking, knowing better than anyone else what this looked like.

Right now, it felt like your brain was a big pile of mush.

You just needed a stable body. Someone to lean on as you headed outside and possibly yakked your guts out.

Wade crouched as soon as you did. You took a pit stop right by the closest patio table, and, squatting and squeezing your eyes shut as a light wave of nausea washed over you, you could hear his voice beside you.

“You alright? You—shit, should I go get someone?”

Probably Joel.

If he weren’t currently getting needled into taking some sweet, amazing, age-appropriate woman from NYC out for dinner next week, you’d say you would love to have him here. You were also sincerely hoping your father would shut the fuck up about your relationship and just try to accept that you and Joel were staying together.

Maybe.

For now.

If you ever got this fucking job offe—

“You need a minute? Water or anything?” Wade asked.

With his hand resting on your back and his words wonderfully soft in comparison to the blaring music indoors and the constant ringing in your ears, he was a comfort. You shook your head, and you tried to stand up.

He helped you. You took a seat, gingerly, and breathed in.

The softest, slightest giggle followed it.

“Want me to get your dad?” Wade pressed, sitting too.

Something rich and smooth started to pool in your chest. Your lungs expanded again, and it was like a gust of wind had filled them up with new feeling—a lightness.

Your head quit pulsing as much. In its place, there was a faint spreading of heat, from the base of your skull to the top. You didn’t know what to make of that, except to say:

“Wade?”

“Yeah?”

“Did…Dad ask you to ask me out at any point tonight?”

You met his gaze and tried not to smile. Wade paused.

“Well…” he started.

“Shit.”

“He might’ve mentioned it, like…once,” he went on, a little bit sheepish. “Said you were dating some old guy.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

His best friend.

If Joel Miller was such a great guy, why couldn’t he be good for you? Why couldn’t your dad just…move on?

“How old are we talking, anyway?” Wade hummed.

“Almost…Almost as old as my dad. His friend.”

Wade’s eyes widened.

“Well, goddamn. Is it Tommy?”

“Nope. His brother, Joel, actually.”

“That is beekeeping age, dude. Damn.”

And as your friend said it, you noticed that his expression softened. His eyes shone. Your own concealed grin from before snuck in a tiny bit. Your head continued to spin.

Wade grinned, too, and then your resolve evaporated.

You couldn’t help but laugh: “Fuck off. Seriously.”

“You’re the one bangin’ the Crypt Keeper.”

“Say that again and I’ll kill you, Pritchett.”

But you and him both were already dissolving into giggles. Just like when you were kids. It was simple and easy, without a hint of there being anything more to it.

You laughed longer than you probably needed to, but your head and your mind within it were just so light. A heady feeling shrouded your senses, and the evening air around you seemed to prick at your skin. Every inch of moonlight shining down on the patio felt brighter, too.

You sat side-by-side and stared out at the dark, vast expanse of land beyond the yard. The rolling hills. Your mouth was dry, so you tried swallowing a couple times, even licked at your lips once. Wade cleared his throat.

“I should’ve known it was Joel,” he resumed presently. Amusement lingering in his tone. “The way he was staring at you every other second of the ceremony…”

“Like I had a big stain on my dress?” you teased.

“Like he was head over heels in love with you.”

When he said it, Wade’s voice was still light. His words didn’t harbor any particularly heavy feelings, and after you tilted your head to him, you found the man smiling.

“You know I’m right,” he said simply.

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you stayed quiet. Another soft, cooling rush rolled in, and you couldn’t quite tell whether it was a breeze or something deeper, beneath your skin. You’d never had somebody tell you a thing like that; silently, you wondered how obvious it was

And if Joel wasn’t ready to do this openly, in front of everyone you knew, well…what would you do about it?

What could you do if he ended up changing his mind?

You blinked twice and tried to brush those thoughts aside. As if reading your mind, or maybe just wanting to head back into the party, Wade stood. He held out a hand to you, wiggling his fingers in a beckoning gesture.

“Wanna come?”

“I’m alright. Be just a few minutes.”

You didn’t need to communicate that you wanted the alone time; Wade went back in. You were glad of it, no matter how much you enjoyed your friend’s company, and for the first time that night, you really missed Joel. Selfishly, you wanted him all to yourself, and you wanted those other folks inside to know that you were together.

Not just friends. Not just fuckbuddies. Committed.

In love, like Wade had said.

Perched on an old wooden bench as you were, you pulled your knees to your chest. You crossed your ankles, and then you rested your chin on one of your knees, peering out across the broad, darkened, and sweeping horizon. Your vision might’ve undulated a little, and your tongue could’ve felt as dry as crumbling parchment in your mouth, but your overall mood was one of gentle quiescence. You blinked slowly, and you sighed.

Waiting.

Joel wouldn’t waste another second.

He was sick of waiting, tired of having to pretend to give a shit about whatever the person in front of him was saying—most of the time, it had been a relative, a friend of a friend of a friend, or else a woman with a big, hopeful smile, looking to find an opening to give him their number. He wasn’t new to the world of weddings, had been to dozens and dozens over the course of his life, but this time, unlike any other occasion, he’d come with a date. You. The urge to be close again was painful.

Why he’d decided to let you mingle and make rounds on your own in the first place was no mystery to him. Joel saw how happy you looked with Tess, how carefree and full of life you always seemed in environments like these, and then he noticed how many looks you and him had gotten at the wedding. None of them were approving.

Joel didn’t have time to think about that now, though. Even if the faces of the people closest to you, including your own father, still followed him around like a shadow and plagued his every other waking moment, he had made up his mind not to worry again until you were back.

Together.

Touching.

Possibly—

“Fucking—” Tommy paused to catch his breath, falling right into step with Joel before he picked the pace up. “—nuts. This wedding is fucking insane, ain’t it, Joel?”

“I guess.”

His head was thrumming with a strange feeling, as if he couldn’t quite get his bearings like he normally could. About an hour ago, after one glass of champagne, he’d decided to stop drinking. Now he was blinking through a haze and searching the venue desperately for you, with his brother being a pain in the ass trotting alongside him.

“There she is, lovebird,” Tommy said suddenly.

Joel breathed a sigh of relief seeing you in the crowd.

At the center of the dance floor, just parting ways with your dad after what looked to be a quick father-daughter dance, your gait was decided and stiff. Your shoulders were squared, and you moved through the throngs of wedding-goers as if your mind were a hundred miles away. Fortunately, your path led you straight to them.

“Baby,” Joel started, reaching for you.

You paused, as if caught off-guard, then blinked.

“Dad is…such an asshole sometimes,” you said vaguely.

Weakly.

Joel’s chest tightened at the sound, and his fingers threaded through yours instinctively. He wanted to lift your hand to his mouth and press a reassuring kiss there—though, getting the sense it might not go over too well around the present crowd, he didn’t. He tried to speak.

Tommy talked over him, “Your dad bein’ a menace?”

“Spewing absolute fucking nonsense.”

“Like what?”

Those words came from Joel, concerned.

Briefly, your gaze flitted to his, and the mist before his eyes thinned a little. He still felt light-headed, but it was more akin to a need. Desire. Wanting to protect you here.

“Making stupid comments about me and…Joel.” You gestured toward him, movements jerky. “More backhanded bullshit. Jokes. And he is so high.”

Tommy perked up at that.

“But your dad doesn’t smoke.”

“I know! I have no idea how he—”

Shortly, his brother was turning to him.

“Joel, what did you do with the Rice Krispies I gave you?”

Joel frowned. Knit his brows and didn’t have to think.

“I set them out for the other guests to have. I—”

“Fuck!” Tommy swore. “Are you shittin’ me?”

“No. Why?”

“Those were my fuckin’ edibles, man!”

His brother’s whole expression blanched. His eyes all but bulged out of his head, and he turned around quick, probably to find the table where his goods had been stashed. Then, swiftly, he pivoted right back to you.

“You had some, too?” Tommy asked.

“Me, Tess, Sue—” you started.

“I’m gonna shit myself.”

Then he was off.

It had all happened so fast, Joel didn’t know what to say. The weed would certainly explain the haze that had settled over his mind, the uptick of his heart rate, and the heightened degree of panic when it came to hearing about your dad. In a very faint silver lining, at least the reception was adults-only—the youth were in no danger of getting baked, and it looked like the treats had only been passed around your immediate group. It didn’t alleviate every concern, as evidenced by your present expression, but at least you were both OK. For now.

Joel leaned down to press a kiss to your hand like he’d wanted to before, but you constricted your grip before he could. You tugged him sideways, over toward an exit.

“We’re leaving.”

And though that tone seemed to brook no argument, Joel slowed. He let you lead him through the space, out the front doors and into the warm summer night, but when you made it three or four steps outside, he dug his heels into the ground. He squeezed your hand gently.

“Sweet pea…”

“I’m just sick of him, Joel! He said he’d made his peace with this—with us—and like a fucking idiot, I believed him. Now he’s doing what he always does, and he’s going back on his word. Treating us like we’re…we’re…”

“Naïve?” Joel finished for you.

“Like we’re stupid for trying to do this!”

You’d said it with such force, releasing his hand and throwing your own in the air with a helpless, angry look. It was clear that tensions were high; no doubt elevated by the influence of drugs, but also just disgust with your father. The problem went deeper. Joel watched you with a tender gaze, wanting to take that pain away from you.

“Am I stupid?” you asked. “Am I stupid for thinking we—”

“Darlin’, don’t even say that. Please. We’re alright.”

“We can’t even kiss in front of people, Joel!”

Those words were steeped in indignation. For half a second, Joel suspected the feeling might be directed toward him, but then your features softened. Quickly. The anger melded to hurt, and you shook your head.

Your voice was hoarse when you resumed.

“You look better with her. Like you…fit.”

That left Joel gobsmacked for more than just a moment. He couldn’t even process what you’d said, where it had come from, or who on earth you might’ve been talking about then, when you went on, heedless. He swallowed.

“Girls close to your age, like Lucy—”

“Are you serious?”

He blinked.

You were being sincere. His whole body tensed, and in a movement that seemed more autonomic than conscious, he scowled. He straightened up, his suit jacket suddenly feeling three sizes too small, and he shook his head at you. For a moment, he showed his age.

“Now I know you ain’t thinkin’ straight,” he started, voice stern like a father’s. The two of you were buzzed, amped up, angrier than normal, and Joel shortly felt as if it were his job to make things clearer. To show you how he felt. “After everything we’ve been through already, you’re gonna stand there an’ tell me I would be better off with somebody else? Someone a little closer to me in age?”

Your lip trembled, but you nodded your head.

“Y-Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know, it’s just—”

“Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“I’m just saying it might be easier!”

“What, if I loved someone older?

“Dad seems to think it’d be—”

That snapped Joel’s resolve.

Before that, he’d been trying to rein in his frustration, try not to let it break loose on you. But with the mention of your father—the same man you’d just been vilifying left and right—he couldn’t stay silent. He wouldn’t be calm.

The man could do little more than grit his teeth and take your hand. Not pressing too hard, he still led you away, firmly, and his strides didn’t slow until he reached another spot outdoors, closer to the parking lot.

Shortly, you were against a wall. Joel pushed you up and nudged you back, your spine pressed flat to the surface with the sounds of the reception humming behind you.

Your legs didn’t wrap around his waist immediately; instead, they parted, just far enough to allow him between, and you reached up softly to cup his face.

You wanted to kiss him—it was the most natural thing.

Tightening his grip on your hips, Joel edged you further back. You slid into the shadows, away from two wide-open doors, and in this position, he reckoned you could hear him better. He was glad of this when he leaned in.

With a slight sneer in his tone: “Yeah? Dad thinks so?”

“Joel.”

His name was more like a breath. Or a moan. Your legs spread even wider, about to draw him in at any moment.

“Good thing daddy knows better than him. C’mere.”

In a blink, his lips were trailing across your cheek. Grazing your mouth. Feeling you out while you tipped your chin up to him, asking the man wordlessly for more.

Joel knew you well enough to sense when you were needy. It was clear as day when his hands slid up your thighs, taking the material of your hot pink dress with them and pulling tight. He reached between your legs, and your breath audibly hitched. You panted for him.

“Joel. Please.”

“You think someone else would ‘fit’ me better? Hm?” Joel echoed your words from earlier and watched you wince a little. Eager as you were, you didn’t want to fight.

Not anymore.

Joel obliged you, and he tugged your panties to the side.

He undid his belt, buckle, and zip in fewer than five seconds, and then he stepped even closer to you. He didn’t wait for you to try and jump up; he gripped your right leg and nudged it up. He hooked it comfortably around him and held your gaze as he angled himself.

The blunt head of his cock swiped through your heat maybe once or twice, and Joel could feel from those movements alone that you were soaked. Desire dripped from your center and coated him, and he couldn’t help but glance down. He watched your folds flare with each rutting motion, and he could hear it, too. Little whimpers matched the noises of your body meeting his, and Joel decided then that he wouldn’t make you wait any longer.

He sank in.

He didn’t need to be stern; from the way your body was open to him, hole aching and needy and wet, he pressed his hips once and was able to slide his cock in gently. This, contrasted with his words, was something else.

His voice was low and guttural as he murmured:

“I’d say we fit just fine. Don’t you think so?”

And as if to punctuate his remark, he drove in to the hilt. He shoved his cock so deep that he swore you’d be able to feel him in your throat, and then he held it. He looked up from the sight of your cunt getting stuffed with him, and he saw your mouth pop open. A strangled moan succeeded that look, along with a, ‘Fuck me, Joel.’

“That ain’t no answer.”

He withdrew to the tip. Fucked in again.

Your thigh trembled against his side as you reached up and squeezed his shoulder, a deeper moan spilling out. This only propelled Joel to pose his question again, lower

“C’mon. Say it. Ain’t—” A firm withdrawal. A sharp thrust. “—one fuckin’ pussy’ll fit me better’n yours. You know it.”

“B-But—”

“Ain’t just sex, neither. You mean everything to me.”

Joel could see the effect his words were having; in addition to the whimpers and the whines, your gaze was holding his own in the softest, rawest look. Your grip tightened on his white starched collar, and the neediness that Joel had seen before seemed to seep through your fingers. You held him close while he fucked you hard against the wall, and he would be lying if that feeling didn’t drive him insane: knowing that you needed him.

He would make you his wife someday.

That was why what you’d said had thrown him off as much as it did. He wasn’t expecting it—was too busy dreaming up all the different ways you two would be painting your babies’ nursery, taking road trips out to the beach or Santa Fe or any number of your new favorite vacation spots you would no doubt accumulate over the years. He was thinking long-term, and here you were, wondering whether he might not want somebody else.

He would show you what he wanted.

He could feel the way your back started to arch off the warm, wooden wall and how your pussy squeezed him tighter. He could feel each pulse; he relished it, and he fucked you deeper. No doubt, if someone were to walk outside the reception hall, take four or five steps to the left and turn their head, you’d be caught. You’d be entirely fucked, standing with your bodies mashed together and your clothes all thrown askew. Try as he might to have styled his hair that morning and kept it manageable, now, it was disheveled and wild. Damp and dark and gray as it had ever looked, grayer than the first time you’d ever done this. Absently, Joel wondered if you’d still love him after all those hairs had gone white.

As if in reply, you pulled him close for a kiss. You tugged the short, dampened curls at the nape of his neck, and you angled your hips. You accepted each thrust while he mumbled against your mouth, in between sloppy kisses.

“Feel me in here, baby?”

His free hand slid to your belly. The fingers splayed out.

“That’s where I belong.”

Another stroke. A soft and slow circling of his palm.

Faintly, he could feel the outline of his cock beneath your skin, and he knew you felt it, too. He sensed this from the way your eyelids fluttered and your walls clamped tighter around him, as if your cunt were trying to suck him in as deep as he could go. Joel wasn’t so mean as to deny you that feeling, so he went on. Kept talking gently as he did.

Perhaps owing to the high or the anxiety he’d been feeling all evening, the sublime ecstasy of being sheathed so far inside you, or else his most primal instincts kicking in, Joel’s thoughts were unyielding. They refused to be ignored, turning swiftly into words.

“Stay with me.”

The same ones had been plaguing him all day. Watching you walk down the aisle, smile and bat those pretty lashes at him, standing there completely oblivious to how badly he wanted this forever. It overpowered him.

He couldn’t resist the temptation to tell you all the rest.

While his hand traveled from your belly to cup your face, and your own pleasure continued to mount inside you at the steady cadence of his thrusts, Joel leaned in. His nose brushed yours, and he felt your breath hitch.

“Marry me.”

And, as if on cue, a spasm followed it. Not so much a squeeze but a sharp, concerted seizing of muscles more intense than Joel had ever felt it before, and your jaw went lax. Your lips parted just in time for him to kiss you again, work your tongue with his own, and keep mumbling those words over and over and over again.

You let him say it; you didn’t push him away or make fists in his suit jacket, telling him it was too soon, you weren’t ready. The truth was, you probably weren’t right now, but you likely knew that Joel was saying it to let you know. The reassurance was something you needed, and finally, it seemed, you found your voice again. It was soft.

“I—I want to. I want you, Joel.”

Your eyes were glazed, and your expression was strained in the midst of what looked to be the most dizzying climax of your life—Joel could feel the pulses continue to work themselves down his dick as he fucked you through it. Your arms wound around his neck. You nodded slowly.

Salt-and-pepper stubble tickled your cheeks with every movement. Wrinkled, sun-spotted skin made a stark contrast to your own, a belly that was broad and soft and slightly rounded over the place where his belt normally sat rested flush against your front. He’d never felt so close watching your gaze latch onto his. His balls ached.

“I want your babies someday, too,” you whispered softly.

There was a smile in your tone as you said it, and Joel could only groan. Of course you had to tell him that now.

“I’ll give you one right here,” he panted. “Right now.”

“Gotta graduate first. Get a real job,” you giggled.

“You’ll be on maternity leave your whole career.”

Joel didn’t mean it, really—he wanted you to achieve your goals, same as he always did—but the thought of you carrying his kid was tempting. It made his hips rut forward, cockhead nudging your cervix with a question.

A plea.

As fast as this had all played out, it didn’t seem you were keen on keeping him waiting for much longer. Your fingers threaded through his grays and pulled gently again. Your lips grazed his own, and your smile grew.

“C’mon then, old man. Show me.”

And he did.

Feeling maybe fifteen or twenty years younger than he was, and momentarily forgetting that you were the daughter of his best friend—the man whose wedding reception was taking place behind that very wall—he let his mind go blank. He felt his cock seize the reins and then empty himself inside, buried as deep as possible.

Idly, he hoped that it would stick.

Your shared reckless, wanton words may have been partly a product of how needy and horny you both were, but maybe there was more to it. Maybe you wouldn’t ask him to buy a Plan B tomorrow morning and just let it be.

He couldn’t wait for the day you met his gaze with a look of pure excitement, practically overflowing with joy as you told him it worked. Maybe that wouldn’t happen for months, or years, or however long you needed to feel secure in that decision, but Joel knew he’d be patient.

He’d be everything you needed and more. With ropes of his cum painting your insides and his cock pulsing gently, lips caressing you all over, he knew that it was only a matter of time. His friend would come around.

In the meantime, Joel decided he was done hiding.

After you’d adjusted your clothes and proceeded to take up residence at a nearby table, Joel pulling you into his lap and stroking your hair until your breaths had finally quieted against his chest, he led you inside. He held your hand all the way to the center of the room, where the crowd on the dance floor was just then starting to thin. It was clear you’d be visible to everyone there, and he watched your eyes dart left and right before flitting to his

Two big, callused palms held your waist. He moved at an easy pace, falling in time with the few couples that were dancing around you. More than once, he nudged your nose with his own, and his words reached you gently.

Most were notes of reassurance. Others were mumbled ‘I love yous’ and ‘Can you believe this is gonna be us someday, tyin’ the knot in front of all these people?’

That seemed to quiet your anxiety, at least for now. Even when he leaned down to take your lips in a kiss, when his fingers slid down and rested just above your rear end, you didn’t balk. If anything, you leaned closer to him.

The warmth of your body beneath his touch and the love etched in every feature was promise enough; he showed you the same, and when, at length, you decided it was time to call it a night, he didn’t hesitate. He led you off, his brain still buzzing on a high and the taste of your lips.

He didn’t register the look the groom gave him for long.

It might’ve lasted for a second or the whole time he was dancing with you. Leaving with you. He had the sense that that gaze was there, but the realization was as quick as anything to leave him. Joel might’ve decided to leave that well enough alone and simply slide out a side door, but then he remembered that this was his oldest friend. For as long as Joel could remember, Mark was a friend.

The man might’ve tried to drown him at one point, but that was all water under the bridge, both literally and figuratively. Still holding your hand in his, he diverted your course toward your father. He tried forcing a smile.

Your grip tightened on approaching. You frowned a bit.

Joel tried keeping his tone as casual as it could be.

“Hey, man—”

Your daughter calls me daddy, too. My cum is dripping out of her cunt right now, and you don’t even know it.

“—congratulations again. Give my best to Helen.”

After he said it, though, it was almost as if your dad had heard the words that he was thinking in between; his brows drew together, and his expression visibly hardened

Joel stuck out his free hand to him. Mark didn’t take it.

Instead, his friend’s gaze drifted to you beside him.

In the blink of an eye, the words were falling out.

“Are we done here, pumpkin?” he asked you.

And that tone was undeniably calm—so much so that Joel had to do a double take just to make sure that he heard him properly. Your grip constricted even tighter.

“Done?” Your own tone was flat. Puzzled. “With…what?”

Your father gestured between you and Joel, and slowly, his mouth curved into a smile. It was slight and sardonic. Those eyes holding yours were evidently meant to mock.

“This,” Mark answered simply. “Are we done?”

“I don’t—” you started, blinking.

“Mark.”

As soon as Joel spoke, his friend’s gaze—clearly inebriated—darted to him. It seemed more like a snarl.

Then, glancing back at you: “I’d say you’ve punished me more than enough now, sweetheart. You can stop fucking my friend to make me mad. It worked.”

His words were both scathing and reductive.

Summing up your entire relationship to such a sentence as that, including an accusation that you were doing it all just for him, was absurd. The tone of it floored Joel, too.

And yet he couldn’t do a thing, because you were speaking next. Your hand unclasped from his swiftly.

“You don’t even know what the fuck this is,” you spat.

“Oh, don’t I? I was a bad dad, I know that. An absent one. This is your way of showing that, by making sure my life is a living hell as long as you’re here, being used by him!”

And then his friend pointed, so as not to be misunderstood in the slightest. Your eyes widened.

You looked as if you were trapped between fleeing and just shoving the guy off his feet, as hard as you could.

You settled on a simple, scornful, “Fuck you.”

“You know I’m right. You can’t deny it.”

“We love each other, Dad. That’s it.”

And though Joel knew it wasn’t his place—this seemed more like a conversation between father and daughter, not for the boyfriend wanting to prove himself in some way—he tried chiming in anyway. He opened his mouth to speak, and at the same time, he saw your dad sneer.

“And if you believe that, you’re just as dumb as your mother. Nothing better than a stupid fucking slut.”

The next moment escaped him; it all happened so fast.

You grabbed a full, cold drink off the closest table, and you flung it directly in your father’s face. You let the cup jump from your hand and strike his nose in the process.

Then you turned and left.

It was as simple and as ugly as that.

Trailing behind you, briefly casting one stunned look over his shoulder toward his friend, where it seemed everyone else in the reception hall was staring as well, he saw the look on his face. He read the shock and pain clear as day.

Frankly, Joel no longer gave a fuck.

Hours later, your dad’s words still stung to remember.

Days later, they made it a little more difficult to eat.

Weeks later, on the morning that was supposed to mark the culmination of your entire academic career to date, you found yourself slumped on the floor of a bathroom stall, still dressed in your crimson cap and gown, and you wished that you were, for once in your life, able to make a decision that didn’t end up hurting someone. You also sincerely hoped this nausea was just a passing phase.

You got on your knees and threw up in the toilet again.

Outside, a soft voice cut in over the hum of fluorescents.

“You want me to get Joel? He’s been worried about you.”

“No.”

Your reply was almost too quick. You held your hair tight and shook your head, as if your roommate could somehow see it, and then you tried again, quieter.

“I’m—I’m alright. Just give me five minutes.”

As it turned out, you needed twenty.

When you reemerged from the bathroom, expression drained and skin sweating a lot more than it probably should have been, you expected to find Joel chatting with Aly’s parents. Cracking jokes with Dallas. Maybe checking his phone for the time, because your flight back to Austin was leaving that afternoon. You’d barely managed to get your dorm packed up in time, and you felt sick for almost all of it. The graduation ceremony was just the cherry on top. Of course, your dad wasn’t there.

That, you’d anticipated. You told him not to come.

What you weren’t planning to see was Joel standing outside the bathroom with his hands crammed full of pills—DayQuil, Dramamine, Advil, any bottle or brand you could think of, he had. He also wore a wan expression.

It almost matched yours, although you weren’t about to share that the reason for your sickly tinge was due to nonstop vomiting. It seemed you’d been feeling that way ever since your father had kicked you out of your childhood home and told you to live with Joel.

He hadn’t said those words, but ‘stupid fucking slut’ had had all of the same effect. Since then, you’d been scarce.

Sick as a dog and trying to convince yourself that it was simply issues with your old man making you feel like this.

It couldn’t have been anything other than that, because you had just graduated college, were still waiting on not one, but three callbacks for jobs in and around Austin, and your lease at your first apartment started next week. Your life was just beginning to look a little brighter, with Joel by your side and cheering you on every step of the way, and you couldn’t stand the thought of it changing.

You waved the medicine off as soon as you saw it.

“Joel, I’m fine. Really.” You tried forcing a smile.

“I just got it from Aly’s mom and a couple other parents around—had some Advil in my car, and we could go to Walgreens before we hit the airport. Do you need me t—”

“No. I feel much better now. Just had to sit for a little,” you cut him off, standing on tip-toes to kiss his nose.

“We sat for the last two hours,” Joel said, frowning.

Pretending not to hear that last remark, you turned to Aly. You stretched your arms out to your best friend and now former-roommate, and you tried not to look too sad.

You clearly failed miserably at that, because Aly scoffed.

“Don’t gimme that look,” she said, hauling you into the biggest, tightest hug that very nearly reawakened your nausea. “I’m gonna come and visit ‘til you’re sick of me. Seriously. Joel’s just gonna have to suck it up for now.”

“Oh, he will,” you murmured, half-smirking and half-wanting to cry. Everything made you teary these days.

You weren’t ready to say good-bye to anyone. Anything. This period of transition was difficult enough without having to move back home not having your old home, and now parting ways with your closest friend on a random sunny Saturday afternoon like it was nothing.

The waterworks were close, but you managed to keep them at bay through sheer force of will. You drew back.

“Don’t open this until you’re home,” Aly said suddenly.

Then she was pushing a makeup bag in your direction.

It didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary, as simple and nondescript as the little gold pouch happened to be, but you had no idea why she was handing it over to you.

You cocked a brow, accepting it with a puzzled look.

“What’s this f—” you started to say.

“For later. After you’ve settled in, and if things don’t…”

Aly paused, choosing words carefully before going on:

“If another ‘friend’ doesn’t come to visit you in a month.”

And although she was smiling while she said it, the implications were plain as day—and you didn’t like it.

You groaned.

“Aly, I am not—”

“I’m not saying you are! Just to be extra safe.”

“I had my friend two weeks ago. That’s not the problem.”

“You bled for one day. Didn’t even fill a tampon you said.”

“And I took Plan B the last time we…and, I mean, we’ve been using condoms every single time ever since then.”

You hated that this would be your last topic of discussion with your friend. At the same time, you knew that it was entirely true to her always looking out for you. She’d seen you sick as anything these last couple weeks, and it was only natural for her to be concerned. She probably figured that you wouldn’t buy whatever was stashed in this bag yourself, so she went ahead and did it for you.

You hoped you wouldn’t need to use it.

You hugged her again and wanted to stay.

After Dallas had assailed you with a similarly suffocating hug to your first, nearly crushing two ribs in the process, and you’d said your good-byes to the rest of the family and a few other friends, you regrouped with Joel. You headed out to the parking lot with him, taking off your cap and unzipping your gown to reveal a short white dress underneath. The afternoon heat was blistering.

Joel eyed you up and down once.

Twice.

He smiled and pulled you into his side as you walked.

“How’s it feel to be an official college grad, darlin’?”

As soon as his hand landed on your waist and pulled you in—when you felt the warmth of his breath on the top of your head before he placed a soft, affectionate kiss there—you couldn’t help it. The sun was shining too bright, and the stomach that you’d sworn was far too empty by now to heave again evidently had had a mind of its own.

You turned and puked on a Porsche.

Joel never knew fatherhood could be so difficult.

Standing in the old, half-dilapidated kitchen of his grandfather’s home, staring through the screen door leading out to the yard, he looked long and hard at the overgrown child sitting politely on the back porch steps.

Her eyes shone with a sweetness that he couldn’t ignore.

“You ain’t sleepin’ in here. I don’t care what Mama said.”

The big, brown eyes blinked up at him. The head cocked.

“And don’t be actin’ all mopey ‘bout it, neither. We’ve been feedin’ you, keepin’ you clean this whole month, tryin’ to find your real family in the meanwhile, and what’s the thanks we get? A steamin’ pile of shit in the living room. You ain’t spendin’ the night again, capiche?”

The kid scowled. She bared her teeth once in frustration.

Then her tail shortly quit wagging, as if she’d actually understood the meaning of his words, and she slumped.

With her head now resting on her front paws in a patch of grass off to the side, the inky black night beyond consuming everything but the little swath of light emitted from the bulb overhead, she watched him.

She huffed through her nose, clearly annoyed.

“Billie!” a voice sing-songed from inside.

That sound came from behind Joel, somewhere in the bedroom. It made the ears of his yappy, furry friend perk up, and no sooner had it rang out than the dog was padding back up the steps and right to the door.

With an expectant, See?-I’m-Fine look, she peered up.

“Go. Away,” Joel ordered, tone stern and authoritative.

Or at least trying to be. He couldn’t deny those eyes were his fucking kryptonite, and the longer he stood there watching her, the more his will began to crumble.

Then a hip bumped his. A flash of something in his periphery, and suddenly, you were slotted in between him and the door, ogling the ratty ball of fur on the deck.

You swung the door open at once.

“C’mere, sweet girl,” you crooned.

The lab bounded happily inside, sidling right up to you with her head held high. If Joel hadn’t known any better, he could’ve sworn he saw the little beast grin over at him.

Beaming somewhat smugly, as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

“That thing is not sleeping in here,” Joel huffed.

You turned to him, crouched by the dog.

“Says who?” you asked him.

“Says me. Damn dog already pissed and crapped and—”

“She’s just a baby, Joel. We can potty train her.” Then, scratching her behind the ears again. “Right, Billie?”

Joel put his hands on his hips, paternal consternation painted all over his face. He hated having to do this.

“You know we can’t be givin’ her no names, baby. It’ll just make it harder when we gotta give her back to her folks.”

You deflated a little hearing that. Kneeling on linoleum in an oversized gray tee that had once belonged to him, hand stroking over the yellow fur with an almost mournful touch, you chewed your bottom lip.

“Well, what if…what if we were her family?”

It just wasn’t realistic for the time being. You’d be moving into your apartment next week—and of course, the complex had a strict ‘No Pets’ policy—you were still on the hunt for a job, his own workload was getting heavier and heavier by the day, and you both had a busy month ahead. From Tommy and Maria’s destination wedding in just a few short weeks to the Billy Joel concert he’d bought tickets for and a million other things, it wasn’t wise at all to be taking on the responsibility of a pet.

Joel said as much by crouching beside you and the dog and stroking the lab’s back. He tried to use the gentlest tone he could muster up while he looked you in the eye.

“We agreed this was just a temporary thing, sweet pea.”

“You can’t always…plan for this stuff, though, right?”

You peered back up at him, and he sighed.

“No. No, you can’t. But with the place we’re at right now, I don’t think it’d be fair to either of us—or to this sweet little puppy—if we tried growing our home right now. We just don’t have the time to care for a dog. And I know you’d wanna be the best Mama you could possibly be.”

Joel expected that to get an understanding reaction out of you. A slow nod of your head, a little twitch of your lips to say that you saw what he meant and that you agreed with him—a pet just wasn’t in the cards for you right now

Instead, you burst into tears.

You rose to your feet and proceeded to flee the kitchen, hand over your face and sobs quick to rack through you.

Joel sat there, stunned for several seconds before the realization could even fully dawn on him. The dog beside him whined. She tilted her head to the left and watched the door where you’d gone out of, and then she stood up herself, about to follow you out. Joel shortly stopped her.

“Stay,” he commanded.

This time, thankfully, the lab obeyed.

She didn’t seem thrilled at the prospect of missing out on all the action, but she was wise enough not to try any stunts. With a little huff, she plopped down on the floor and watched him leave, same as she had done with you.

Joel’s head was whirring with too many thoughts at once to worry himself with anything else at the moment. He lumbered into the bedroom that he shared with you and looked around—you couldn’t be found on the bed, in the reading nook, packing clothes and going, so he figured…

“Honey?” Joel knocked loudly on the bathroom door.

He waited a second and heard nothing. Instinct told him not to barge in immediately, but curiosity and worry both seized him in a chokehold at once. He put his hand on the doorknob, and, following another brief pause—after calling your name and getting no answer—he walked in.

When he did, you were already turning from the sink.

Your eyes were clear, and your cheeks were dry; all that was left to remind him that you’d just broke down crying in front of him a minute or two ago was a faint ring of pink around your irises. That part you couldn’t mask.

The rest was an uncanny performance, though.

You forced a smile and tried breezing past him in the doorframe. Muttered something about this ‘ridiculous PMS’ and how ‘emotional these hormones make you.’

Joel didn’t believe a syllable of what you said—and even if your outburst were due in part to hormones, he wanted to know how he could help. Make you feel better. He took you by the shoulders before you could pass, and he stopped you in the door. He pressed your back gently to the wooden frame to make you meet his look in turn.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. What was that?” He tried making his voice sound as soft and calm as possible.

Then you smiled again. Practically leered in his face.

“I just get in these moods. You know I do. I really—”

“What? You think I’m stupid now or somethin’?”

And Joel didn’t intend for those words to come off so abrasive, but the circumstances—that plastic painted grin twisting so casually at the corners of your lips—had him fit to be tied, and that irritation was only growing by the second. His grip slid down to your upper arms, firm.

He hated being so fatherly, but he knew he had to say it.

“You and me, we’re gonna talk this over like two adults. Only way to work things out is communication. Now s—”

“I might be pregnant.”

You spoke, and in the same instant, his lower back broke.

That was what it felt like, anyway—every time he got a muscle spasm at this age, it felt like someone had taken a cattle prod to his spine and had a field day with it. Like his vertebrae were composed of the same material found in glow sticks, and somebody much, much bigger than him had just snapped that motherfucker in two, it—

“Shiiiiiiit, shit, shit,” Joel cursed over and over.

You froze. Your mouth fell open.

“I knew it. I…fucking knew it.”

That was an accusation.

A charge, more like.

Joel’s eyes widened, both with the pain blossoming from his lower back and the realization that you thought that his reaction stemmed from being disappointed about you possibly having his child. Your eyes welled up with tears all over again, this time shameless and staying put.

You turned and strode off just as he reached for you.

Joel couldn’t move far or fast in his present condition, so he placed a hand on the small of his back and wobbled behind you, wincing a little as he called out your name.

“Baby!”

“Said you wanted a whole brood of kids seconds before shooting your load in me, but the second I mention a pet, suddenly I’m the crazy one. Forget about your baby batter actually fucking doing its job and maybe knock—”

“Sweet pea, listen to me. Please.”

You were throwing clothes into a suitcase. The two of you had only planned to spend the weekend at his granddad’s, so you didn’t have very much to pack.

“I’ve heard enough.” You rubbed your bleary eyes.

Tears were flowing freely down your cheeks now, and Joel was rounding the edge of the bed, pain still radiating up his back and a million emotions coursing through him at once. Almost simultaneously, another spasm hit, and this time, it all but bowled him over.

Joel found himself crouched by the bed where you were busy chucking shirts, skirts, panties, and socks into your bag, and his whole lower back suddenly seized with pain.

Fuck middle age.

“Joel?”

Just as quick, you stopped what you were doing.

“Joel, oh—oh fuck, are you having a stroke?!”

Now it was his turn to feel taken aback.

Gripping the old, flimsy bedspread in one hand and his back in the other, Joel shook his head fiercely. Quickly.

“N-No. No, hon, I’m fine.”

He felt a million years old.

You rushed to his side, not a crack in your joints as you squatted. Your tone changed completely, and your hand started rubbing circles in his back. Thankfully, it wasn’t where he was hurting, and he could manage, hoarsely:

“Just my back. Are—Are we havin’ a baby, darlin’?”

“I have no idea! Are you dying on me, Miller?”

“Not quite—”

“Because if you are, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Those words were harsh, but the voice that spoke them was alarmingly small. Soft. Your eyes were as wide as saucers, and you couldn’t stop touching him the second you suspected that something was amiss. Your anger vanished. Joel took one, long look at you then and almost forgot the agony he was in. His lips twitched.

“Y’ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easy. Just…back spasms.”

“What?”

“Happens when you’re over the age of forty and exist.”

“So you should be used to it, after a hundred years?”

Little shit.

You were helping him to his feet. Making him sit on the bed. Joel couldn’t help the little grunt of amusement that pushed out of his chest, but he also wasn’t in the mood to be humorous. His head was still throbbing. Spinning.

“S’why I was cussin’ up a storm right after you told me…it was just my damn back. You know, darlin’, you know…” Now his own voice was failing him. Joel was short of breath and sitting up from the headboard, trying to hold you in some way. Luckily, you let him take your hands. “Ain’t a soul on this earth I’d rather start a family with…”

When he squeezed your palms, you pressed back gently.

You didn’t retreat, but your voice wasn’t quite the same. Your eyes met his, almost hesitating, still glossy and wet.

“But you don’t even want a…a dog together. You said—”

“I know.” Joel winced, now regretting his choice of words earlier. “I know I said that we were busy, and maybe we don’t have all the resources right now to make it…easy.”

He had to pause, and perhaps you thought it was for effect, or because his back was still hurting him some, but the truth was that it had just started to dawn on him. His throat grew tight; he couldn’t swallow, and suddenly, it was his own eyes blinking fast. Stinging with emotion.

“But a baby?”

His voice splintered with that last word. He tried, although he couldn’t bring himself to go on just yet.

“I—I don’t know for sure,” you interjected, hurried. “Haven’t taken a test or anything. It’s just been weeks since I was supposed to have my period, and I’ve felt…”

The two of you were perched on the edge of the bed, and across from him, Joel saw your face looking pensive. His eyes rounded with a realization, memories flooding back.

“At graduation. You were sick,” he murmured. “You…?”

You chewed at the inside of your cheek.

“I’d been sick. Aly bought me a test.”

“But you didn’t take it?”

“No. I was too scared.”

You looked like you might’ve been about to say more, when, at length, your brows pinched, and your whole expression looked like it was about to cave in on itself. Like you couldn’t control the wave of emotion rolling in.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Joel wrapped you in his arms, and you started to sob.

Not like that slight, tight-lipped flow of tears that had started and ended before he could even blink; this one was long and poured straight into his chest, like a weight that was being stripped off of your back brick-by-brick.

You’d talked about babies before. You’d met his gaze with a bright, twinkling look in your own and told him you couldn’t wait. In softer, sensual, at-times spontaneous moments, you had sex and let him finish inside you, and you both went wild at the thought of his seed maybe sticking, but this? The reality was a different thing.

Joel let you cry as long as you needed, and he stroked your hair. He leaned back against the headboard, you safe and secure in his grasp, and he told you the truth.

“I love you,” he said, soft. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, hear?”

You proceeded to sniffle, fisting his shirt, “But you…”

“Want this. Want you. Want the baby. The dog, the house, and the yard with the white picket fence. Everything you can think of, with you, I want.”

Another brief pause, and you peered up.

Joel went on without having to think.

“I only said what I said before ‘cause I thought it was the right thing to do. You’re just startin’ out in life, and I’m old as dirt, itchin’ to settle down and have you all to myself. But I know you’ve got stuff to figure out, like what you wanna be and where you wanna go, and I just want whatever that is to be your decision. Your choice.”

Those last words seemed to leave an impression. You blinked slowly, and then you sniffled again, thinking.

“Whether it’s a baby, this dog, a house, or anything else, you and me have all the time in the world to figure it out.”

Perhaps unconsciously, your hand then drifted to rest on your belly. The sight of it made Joel’s heart not only swell but want to burst in his chest, and he had to rein in his every impulse just to kiss your forehead and stay calm.

It was hard.

You searched his gaze.

“Whatever it is, I want it to be with you, Joel,” you said.

And when you tilted your chin up half a degree to press your lips to his, it was over. He kissed you deeply, with a feeling that would’ve almost surprised him if it weren’t so thoroughly embedded in his body by now. Every inch of him needed you, and every inch of him wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, and make sure that you knew he was ready to take this step. If you were ready.

Staring into your eyes after the two of you had pulled apart, both still sniffling and shedding some tears and laughing every now and then at how insane this was to be going through, Joel hoped that you would be ready.

“I love you, Miller,” you mumbled gently against his lips.

“I love you more,” he muttered back, and he meant it.

He was ready.

It all came down to Boston, the Bronco, and Billy Joel.

The singer’s namesake, a perpetually happy-go-lucky yellow lab, now sat between you and Joel in the front seat of the old car, panting loud. You didn’t blame her.

Currently, it was 103 degrees at the start of another blistering Austin heatwave, and the Bronco’s A/C was shot to shit. Your furry friend was keeping a brave face, but deep down, you knew she was dying inside listening to the Piano Man while waiting for her dad to pick up the pace. You couldn’t deny you were silently missing the winters in Massachusetts and wishing Joel was a little bit quicker with dressing. Beside you and Billie, in the driver’s seat, he was lacing up his left shoe.

He wore loafers, a crisp white polo, and khaki shorts.

The man had never looked more like a dad in his life; later today, you’d be finding out for certain if he was.

Seven days ago, you’d decided to wait a week before taking an at-home pregnancy test. Seven whole days hoping for that bloody chaos you’d come to despise the majority of your life—and still, to the present moment, nothing. You’d just parked outside Tommy and Maria’s house, planning to spend the afternoon celebrating them closing on said house, getting married in less than a month, and Maria landing a big promotion at her job.

You know, adult stuff.

Marriage, home ownership, career success, the whole nine yards. The only place you and Joel might’ve had them beat was a kid, but even that wasn’t a sure thing.

You wouldn’t tell anyone until it was, and once it was—if it was—you reckoned you’d be an absolute fucking mess.

You were already half-insane over the prospect of being a mother, much less learning that you were. At the same time, irrationally, you couldn’t keep your hands off Joel.

It was like the man had become a fucking drug lately.

Your sex drive was already through the roof as it was, and you’d always been wildly attracted to him before, but this was new. It was different. Nothing had ever made you more feral or needy than…whatever the fuck this was.

Presently, Joel hiked up his shorts even higher on one leg and opened the driver’s side door. He propped his foot up, about to try and fix the laces again, when Billie dove across his lap. She tore off down the lawn like her tail was on fire all the way to the backyard, where the sounds of the barbecue could no doubt be heard to her.

“Damn dog,” Joel muttered. He smiled saying it, though.

You were too busy ogling how big his thighs looked straining against cotton, wanting to take a bite out of one

Right as he fixed the wayward loafer laces and turned to say something to the effect of, ‘You ready, sweet pea?’, you reached over him and slammed the car door shut. You pulled—no, wrenched—your panties down your legs from under the hem of your red gingham dress and then straddled Joel’s lap. Then you changed your mind. You pried yourself off the old man and made your way into the backseat, where you two would have some room.

“You comin’?” You pouted up at him in the rearview.

It took Joel a half-second to process. He blinked.

“In…in the driveway?” He looked around briefly.

You knew the question, as well as the momentary bout of bewilderment, was mostly perfunctory; he’d gotten used to you needing him at all hours of the day, in the most unconventional places. This wasn’t the weirdest spot you’d done it by a long shot. Not even in the last week.

“This was the first place we ever had sex, y’know,” you said, batting your lashes at him sweetly. Teasing him. “Back when you defiled me coming home from college.”

“That ain’t how I remember it.” And Joel was already coming after you. Clambering over the front seats.

Then he was under you, lying down a little awkwardly with his gigantic frame taking up most of the space in the backseat. You sat on his belly. Lifted your dress skirt.

“You jumped me, didn’t ya, pretty girl?” Joel smirked.

“Might have. I was horny,” you replied, smiling, too.

Vaguely, you recalled calling him daddy in the lobby of that seedy backcountry motel, and the rest was history.

Now you were undoing his clothes again. Taking him out, same as you’d helped him do on that first night, and the overwhelming heat in the vehicle today hardly bothered you at all. You were reminiscing—brushing his bare tip between your thighs and smearing your wetness with him. You straddled his hips and looked around you both.

“My purse.” You reached over, mumbling, “Condoms.”

Joel grabbed your thighs and nudged you up his body before you could make it far. While fucking with rubbers and having him inside was the first thing on your mind, something else was on his. He angled you over his face.

Feeling stubble on your inner thighs, you whimpered.

“Y’let daddy have a taste first, right?” Joel hummed.

You had.

You and Joel had played a game of ‘Too Hot,’ and he’d topped it off by finishing you off with his lips and tongue. In keeping with tradition, it seemed only fair to give him the chance to do it again, but you were impatient, too.

The headrest beside you got a hard squeeze, shortly. Your fingers curled into the cushion as you grit your teeth together and Joel’s tongue swiped up your slit.

Damn, he felt good.

You hadn’t even needed the foreplay, and here he was, licking through your folds like this was the key to his own happiness. Like nothing would make him more content.

At length, you looked down and watched him do it. You scanned the tanned, weathered plane of Joel’s forehead, every wrinkle and sunspot and sign of aging that you had come to love over the last months, and you whined again

His tongue stroked you methodically and deliberately. He coaxed your clit with just the tip and then sucked the little nub between two soft and plush lips. Everything about the pressure was delectable, from the warmth of his mouth to the way you felt the grays in his stubble tease your skin to how expertly he worked you over. Pleasure mounted, and Joel’s efforts increased, too.

He let you fuck his face. You rode it, basically, but with even more force from how he’d grip the sides of your legs and rut your hips hard over his waiting, open mouth.

Even lying supine under you, Joel was always in control. You loved not having to think a damn thing while he was pleasuring you like this—or in any position, really—and you could just shut off your brain. You’d hold the headrest in one hand and a clump of dark, silver-streaked hair in the other, and simply breathe. Hiccup, moan, curse aloud occasionally, all of it in a good way.

You were a good girl with some raging, yet-unexplained hormones coursing through your body that made you want to scream. So you did. With a thick, damp beard between your thighs and a tongue moving relentlessly through your sensitive heat, big hands leaving imprints on your hips and thighs, and a smirk searing against your center the whole time, you let out a cry that was primal.

Feral.

Your legs trembled against Joel’s face as you came, and your body couldn’t hold you upright for long after it hit. You slumped forward, into the window, and cried again.

Insatiable, too, it seemed.

Body still tight, your hips continued to rut mindlessly as if waiting for something more that you couldn’t decipher.

This time, Joel was moving out from under you. He worked an arm around your front, gently, and then, positioned behind you, slid his fingers inside your pussy.

He pumped his index and middle fingers once, twice, stretching your still-pulsing walls around them before pulling back out. Like he could tell there was something else you needed to release, he pulled you into his lap and had you sit. He repositioned you both to sit facing the front of the car, and your legs draped lazily over his.

He pushed his fingers inside you again.

Still only two, but curving them upward to pet the ridged wall of flesh and get in deeper, he kissed your shoulder. He made a rhythm of it, easily, and worked you back up to a high you didn’t even know that you needed. When you climaxed again, this time over thick, callused fingers, the lightest stream followed it. Joel made you squirt, and he didn’t stop moving his hand until it had all come out.

Then he kissed your shoulder again, lips soft and wet.

“Better?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Boneless as you felt, you still managed to turn around. Your eyes must’ve been glazed, the heady warmth of your first and second orgasms still thrumming through your veins, and you smiled softly at Joel. He smiled back.

Now he’d let you have him.

He was wise like that—old and sage and more experienced in sex than you by decades. You sometimes forgot about that. It was in moments like these that he was able to remind you: fucked out as he had you, needy as you’d been all day, he could show you just what your body could take, and what it might give to him in return.

When he filled you, it felt a little bit like coming home.

Joel must have snagged a Trojan from out of his shorts pocket and put it on while you were coming down from your high, and you didn’t mind at all. Latex-covered or not, every inch of him was precious going in, and you appreciated the consideration for your present state.

Just to be safe.

Unlike the first time you’d done this, up in the front seat of the Bronco, you and Joel were now familiar with each other. His cock stretched your pulsing wet hole, and the only words out of his mouth for the longest time were ‘I love you’ and ‘This feel alright?’ Nothing else was said until Joel felt certain you were comfortable having him there, hands secure around your hips and eyes following your every movement. He watched you hiccup and nod.

“‘M’alright. Start movin’, daddy, please,” you whined.

He knew you, and you knew him, almost too well.

Instead of gratifying you immediately, Joel lifted one broad and callused palm and cradled the back of your head with it. His brown eyes twinkled, and you could see that he was serious about taking care of you. He had to.

“My baby ain’t sore?” he asked, pointedly. “Ain’t hurt?”

“No, sir.”

You saw a flicker of heat leap to his gaze on hearing that. He let you snake your arms around his neck and wriggle your hips a little, taking in his heft and his girth as best you could. Your walls clenched involuntarily, and fuck if it didn’t feel a bit like suffocating. He was always so big.

Joel stretched you, dove to the sweetest depths of your body, and made you full. He only started moving when he saw that you were ready; then it was all soft, gentle thrusts and tender kisses. Digging deep to find that special spot inside you and hitting it repeatedly with the head of his cock. Hypersensitized as you were, it felt like every throbbing inch was in all the way to your lungs, and you couldn’t have been happier. Your head lolled forward into the crook of Joel’s neck then, and you soaked him in

“That’s a good girl,” Joel hummed. Now rubbing your back while he pistoned his cock in and out of you rhythmically. “That’s my girl. Always so sweet f’me.”

You were leaking around him, too.

Slick smeared your groin and Joel’s and made for the most obscene sorts of noises as you fucked. It practically flattened the wiry grays at the base of the old man’s abdomen, making his whole happy trail and thatch of hair beneath it a dampened mess. On top of everything, you and him were sweating. Your mouths were wet with a mix of spit and that same, tangy arousal that Joel had tongued out of your cunt, and you hummed at the taste.

Then he made things even wetter when he licked his thumb. Joel held it up, as if asking you to inspect it.

“Suck.”

The command was simple; you followed it.

While he continued to fuck up into you from below, hips grinding at a steady, gentle cadence, he pressed his thumb into your mouth. You took it in to the knuckle.

From all the months you two had been having sex, you already knew what this was for. You bobbed your head, gaze plastered to his, and you whimpered a little. You licked the warm, ridged skin and curled your tongue.

Joel groaned, and then the thumb was out. He had you leaning back, hands bracing yourself on his meaty thighs, while he lowered his touch to rub your clit.

In contrast to his languid thrusts, the little circles he made on your throbbing bundle of nerves were both fast and tight. Pressing, just like you liked them. Seeing how your head fell back on a long, protracted moan, Joel could no doubt tell that you were almost at your peak.

“C’mon, pretty girl, one more for daddy. Wanna feel it.”

Your legs trembled. Your walls tightened around him.

You were so fucking close to that devastating precipice that all you could do was whimper and whine and rut your hips against the stab of Joel’s impossibly thick cock, wanting release more than the air you breathed.

Then Joel leaned forward.

Tilting your face back up to him, pressing your nose to his nose and fucking so deep in your guts that he was almost touching your cervix, he nodded once. Knowing.

“How’s that feel, mama?”

And his cock sank even deeper.

The response in you was immediate and instinctive.

Overwhelmed as you’d been all this time, agonizing through every waking hour over how a pregnancy would completely upend your life, you felt your walls cling to Joel’s cock and pulse around him. It must have been something primal and senseless inside you, because as soon as he’d said those words, you were reaching climax.

The feeling was deep. Sweet. Dizzying to your every sense as Joel Miller met your gaze in earnest and split you down his big, throbbing cock. His thrusts sped up, and he didn’t hesitate to say it again as you came apart.

“That feel good, mama? This pussy feel nice an’ full?”

“Joel.”

His name crawled through your teeth, choked, and your cunt spasmed again. Your body milked him desperately.

“I bet she does. Loves gettin’ stretched by this cock.”

“Daddy.”

Your gaze was almost pained with how good it all felt. Pulling Joel closer to you, you panted into his mouth.

He grinned.

“Gonna make her real full someday—” he started.

“Today,” you interrupted. Chest heaving. “Now.”

“Wh—”

“Maybe you already made me a mama, Joel.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them. Joel’s cock throbbed inside you, and his jaw slackened.

Then you felt him twitch again. His grip tightened.

He flipped you onto your back along the seat.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathed.

Another jerk. Another shuddering groan.

Without further warning, Joel’s hips stilled in place, and his eyes closed. Your legs wrapped around his lower half and tilted up to give him access, exactly like he deserved. Warmth spread in the next second, filling the latex barrier between your bodies, and you sighed.

You wished it were in you, sticky and wet.

“I—I took a test.”

Joel’s eyes snapped open.

His body lifted from yours immediately, up on his elbows, and his gaze searched your face for a better explanation.

“Four, actually,” you went on, starting to sit up with him.

Joel’s whole expression turned to stone before your eyes. Completely transformed from the strain and the bliss of his last release, the man now looked as if you’d just grown a second head. He was stunned into silence.

Then he was pulling out. Discarding the used rubber. Running fingers through his hair and moving carefully.

“Are…are you…?” he stammered. “Baby, are we…?”

You were about to answer him. You were smoothing down the front of your dress and then trying to tame your hair, but both efforts were futile. Your hands shook.

“Well, I—”

THUMP.

Thump, thump, thump.

“No sex allowed in my driveway!”

Tommy Miller beat on the window directly behind you, and you jumped. Thankfully, Joel had already zipped up.

Still, the older brother groaned.

“Would you give us a minute, dickhead?” he growled.

“No,” Tommy snapped back, tone defiant. Slamming his palm on the pane once more. “I can’t even see inside here ‘cause y’all’ve been steamin’ it up! It’s sickening.”

Gingerly, you turned and rolled the window down—cranking the thing, since Joel’s vehicle was so old.

When you met Tommy’s face, you half-expected a frown. Instead, he had on a triumphant look, like, ‘Ha. Got y’all.’

You could feel Joel’s middle finger itching to flick him off.

Beside Tommy, to your surprise—and embarrassment—you saw Maria. A hint of amusement raised her brows.

“We got a rack of ribs and a couple burgers smothered with pickles, just like you asked for,” she told you sweetly

Your cheeks heated remembering that special request.

Before you could speak, Maria went on, grinning: “Are you sure you’re not pregnant? My sister had the same cravings with her last two. Put pickles on everything.”

Joel might’ve choked on his spit. You heard him cough, right as your own throat tightened to the point of closing.

Tommy took that as his cue to interject.

“Holy shit, y’all are fuckin’ pregnant.”

As he laughed, Joel snapped:

“Don’t even start, Tomm—”

“I’m gonna be an uncle!”

While Tommy turned to shoot a too-smug, beaming look over at Maria, you were already climbing back into the front seat. Joel followed, and his expression was grim.

His brother stuck his head in through the back window.

“Tommy if it’s a boy, Tammy if it’s a girl—how ‘bout it?”

You leaned and reached for your purse. Rifling through it, you could feel Joel’s eyes on you. They were questioning.

More than a little bit scared.

His brother chattered on, oblivious.

“Won’t be long before you gotta buy diapers for the baby and him, I reckon.” Tommy gestured to Joel with a wink.

You said nothing. Your hands were too busy collecting four plastics sticks out of a Ziploc baggie in your tote.

Clearly, the man outside hadn’t had his fill of poking fun at his big brother yet, and was still waiting on a reaction, because he leaned even further into the Bronco, leering.

“What? No comeback?” he goaded you both teasingly.

While you didn’t retrieve your latest find from out of your bag, worried Tommy might see it, you did turn and smile.

This time, you made sure he heard you, loud and clear:

“Tommy, if I wanted my comeback, I would’ve wiped it off your brother’s chin. Now go get me a burger, please.”

Strangely, you’d never felt more certain—or starved for the biggest helping of barbecue, burgers, and pickles—in your life. It almost seemed like the nail in the coffin, this craving, and then Tommy and Maria saying it outright.

You had to be pregnant, surely.

You had to meet Joel’s gaze, hand still inside your purse. His brother laughed like the good sport he was, Maria chuckled and shook her head, and then the two of them were making their way back to the party in the backyard, where you and Joel would no doubt find yourselves later.

After you figured this shit out.

After you shared with Joel what you had already done.

“Darlin’,” Joel started, voice wavering the slightest bit. Then, lowering even more to say it: “Are you pregnant?”

“I don’t know.”

Slowly, you lifted the little plastic bag out of your purse, making sure to keep your grip covering most of it. You didn’t show it to Joel immediately, but his gaze was near.

Brown eyes widened. The lines around his mouth grew more pronounced as he gnawed the inside of his cheek.

“Is that…?”

“I took four tests right before we left. I know you’re supposed to check immediately, and the results might not be accurate anymore, but I…I wanted to wait first,” you said, hold tightening even more. “Didn’t wanna find out until you were there with me. Then I got…distracted, seeing you in your shorts earlier, and…anyway, I bought some others, so we can go inside and take the test ag—”

“Let’s check ‘em anyway. If that—if that’s OK with you.”

Joel sounded so hopeful, blinking a little more quickly.

He wanted to know now, despite being scared as you.

You opened the bag and nodded back at him.

“I didn’t want it to ruin the afternoon…”

You’d just taken the tests out, still holding them low so you couldn’t see them yet, when Joel’s eyes jumped to yours. His hands shortly followed, and before long, he was cupping your cheeks. Holding your gaze intently.

“Y’think findin’ out news like that is gonna ruin my day?” His tone was steeped in disbelief, and he was already shaking his head. “Don’t ever think that, baby. Please.”

And he looked so sure of it. Every worn line in his face, every disheveled salt-and-pepper lock of hair, every soft rise and fall of his chest under that bright, white, sweat-dampened polo—the man seemed secure as anything.

Your bottom lip trembled, and you winced to keep the tears at bay. You really tried, but a few slid out anyway.

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

“I know.” Joel swiped the moisture with his thumbs, and he drew even closer to kiss your forehead, pressing gently. “It’s OK. This is still your choice, remember?”

You set the tests on the dashboard. You didn’t look over. When Joel lifted his palms to start kissing the tears that had streaked down your face, you only broke down more.

Fucking hormones.

“Either way it goes, I’m gonna be here. No matter what,” Joel assured you. In between soft pecks, he was smiling.

Despite your tears, you tried smiling back.

Choking out a laugh when his stubble tickled your face.

“Baby or no baby?” you sniffled up at him.

“No matter what,” Joel repeated.

“You mean it?”

“Sweet pea, someday soon I’m gonna make you my w—”

Suddenly, another knock interrupted Joel’s speech. It was gentler than the last, though evidently hard enough.

You turned, and it felt like your face went up in flames.

Joel and you weren’t doing anything, and still, a look from that man made it feel like you’d just been caught red-handed, and nothing would likely ever change that.

Your dad had made it that way.

He was standing outside the Bronco on Joel’s side, resting a hand on the roof and leaning into the window.

And though you couldn’t quite read his look through the glare of the midafternoon sun, it was clear he looked like shit. His face was drawn, expression limp, and the eyes that stared into the car were as hollow and desolate as you’d ever seen them. It was like looking down into a pit.

Your stomach turned inside you.

At just the sight of him, you felt nauseous again.

It’d been almost a month since you’d last spoken to your father face-to-face. On that occasion, he’d called you a ‘stupid fucking slut’ and tried carrying on like nothing.

Evidently, the same memory was running through Joel’s head, as he pushed out of the car in the next second. He didn’t hesitate to shove your dad away with the door and meet him head-on, just to force the man backward again

With an expression that was flinty and stern, finger pointed directly at your father’s chest, he spoke low.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Listen, I know—”

“Go home.”

Joel’s words brooked no argument. They didn’t show him to be openly hostile or irate, just steady in his appraisal. Firm in the belief your dad needed to fuck off.

Mark peered around his shoulder anyway.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. For everything.”

Inwardly, you cringed. On the outside, you had to keep up a front like you weren’t about to break down again.

First the pregnancy shit, now back to this.

Would it ever end with him and Joel?

“Dad. Please go,” you choked out.

He only drew closer. That prompted Joel to take a step that way as well, blocking your father from gaining too much on the Bronco. Of course, it wasn’t a perfect wall.

Your dad managed to snake toward the open doorway.

As soon as he did, Joel made sure to spare him no effort: he took hold of the man’s collar, arm hard across his chest, and thrust him up against the side of the car. The motion rattled the whole frame of the old Bronco, and out of habit, you leapt toward it. You stopped halfway across the center console, gaze darting to Joel’s, and your lips parted. You were already shaking your head.

Watching yet another violent scene unfold wasn’t high on your list of priorities. Fortunately, your dad didn’t budge an inch to resist and instead only turned his head.

“Sweetheart,” he tried again, voice a touch more hoarse this time around. Pleading. “I didn’t mean nothin’ I said.”

Joel lowered his arm, but he didn’t release the collar. With a firm grip, he kept your dad pinned to the spot.

“Which part? Those ugly fuckin’ names that you called her, or sayin’ she’d be better off without me?” he pressed

Your father coughed. The force must’ve been a lot.

“I mean, all of it. Really. I regret everything I sai—”

“And you think I’m doing this to piss you off. Like Joel is some sort of ploy to make your life miserable,” you cut in.

“I know he ain’t. Not from the way you two have been…” Your father trailed off, as if the words were too weighty on his tongue. He tore his gaze from you and Joel and opted to stare off someplace else inside the Bronco then. “From how you look at him, and he looks at you, it just…”

Silence. More inarticulable blinks and a heavy swallow.

“You’ll always be my little girl, and it’s just hard seein’…”

At the same time, his gaze landed on one particular spot and froze in place. His body stiffened, and with it, the grip on his collar constricted, too. Joel clearly didn’t notice the path of your dad’s vision, and he frowned.

“Mark—” he started, low.

“What—What the fuck is that?”

Your gaze and Joel’s snapped in time to follow his look.

As soon as you did, your heart plummeted to your feet. Joel was still holding onto your father’s shirt like he could’ve swung at him at any moment, but then it was as if you could feel his whole demeanor shift. You weren’t watching his face, but you could see those eyes widen.

Joel stared, dumbstruck.

Your father raised his voice.

With the attention of everyone now glued to the four tests sitting out on the dash, it rang loud as anything:

“You’re fucking pregnant?!”

Well.

At least the waiting game was over.

#olive recs・゜・。.🫒

2K notes · View notes