Page 9 of Simply You & Me

"Adelyn May!"

Rylee's shout alerts me to her position, sitting on a blanket in the grass. Wiggling and cooing, Ollie makes grabby hands at the sky.

"Ooo, Mom! You got middle-named!" A round of chuckles responds to Rory's taunting tone.

Rolling her eyes, Addie bypasses her kid and kneels beside Rylee. I'm too far away to hear their conversation, but Rylee stands as soon as Adelyn nods and relaxes on her side next to the happy baby. Something inside of me uncoils, at peace now that the flitty brunette has stopped moving for once.

"Nice trick, gorgeous," Jackson praises, laughing into his beer can. Rylee sighs and plops herself on his lap while running her hands through his inky black hair that's hanging a bit longer these days.

"It's the only way to get her to sit the hell down." Jackson nods in response to his wife's exasperation. He drops a kiss on her bare shoulder after brushing her long red hair away. Behind the cozy loveseat, Marcus nips at Jackson's neck before cackling and running away. Ry soothes the sting with a kiss of her own.

"So, she's always like this?" I ask while watching Addie point to the clouds with Oliver. Her lips move, making me wonder what story she's weaving for the baby boy.

My gut swirls with eagerness, wanting that to be my future. The only difference would be the baby being mine or one of my guys. A flash of a pregnant Adelyn stuns the breath out of me for a second. Fuck. I adjust my hardening cock, feeling far too possessive for someone who just met the woman.

Rylee's hum reminds me of the question I asked. "Mm-hmm." Stealing a sip of Jackson's beer, her gaze lingers on her friend and baby with a thoughtful look. "She’s really amazing. I just wish she would take some time for herself, you know?"

Rory skips over to the blanket with her long hair dancing behind her. Addie sits up, noticing her daughter coming to see her. The smile and laugh that comes out of Adelyn when Rory drapes herself against her back and around her neck steals my future.

"I'm beat."

I feel the same exhaustion Julian expresses. My bones feel heavy, and my eyelids droop. Shuffling my way into our new home, I take in the boxes lined up in the hallway. The entryway leads straight into a long hallway that leads to the back of the house where an extra bathroom, office, basement door, and patio door reside. To the right, the stairwell leads up to the five bedrooms and an office. Not that they have been taken advantage of; we share beds more often than not. Left of the large entryway, the kitchen, dining room, and living room all flow together, concealed by the hallway wall.

It's cozy. Intimate. Safe.

"God, I can't look at that fucking island counter without gagging." Tate sighs, his features twisted in a grimace.

I huff a laugh, remembering when Rylee and her guys helped us move in. Jude and she eyed the marble with heated eyes like lovers reminiscing their first time together. I shudder. They’re our family, too; Rylee is like a sister. She may be twenty-seven now, and her guys my age, but that’s gross.

Blood rushes to my cock, seeing Wyatt press himself up against Tate's backside and grinding against his ass. "Maybe we should make some memories of our own, T."

Julian groans, resting his elbows on the other side of the island, his copper locks flopping over his forehead. I lean my hip against the cool surface, watching Tate's face relax in pleasure. My shorts tighten when his head lolls on his shoulders, allowing Wyatt full access to his throat.

Pocketing his clove, Wyatt drags his tongue along our blonde’s thundering vein to his earlobe. "You doing okay, T?" Tate nods, and a rush of breath deflates his lungs.

God, they look fucking sexy. One light hair goodness, the other dark-haired baddy. It's a sight I will never get enough of.

Julian snatches Tate's hands and yanks him until his chest is flush against the counter. I give Jules an approving, heated look and run my hand along Tate's ass, slipping his waistband down as I go.

The youngest of us has always been a bit more sensitive. We took him under our wing and shielded him from as much as we could when we found his fucking parents slapping him around at a gala we were working. That was years ago. He was sixteen, and I still can't get the look of his tear-stained cheeks out of my mind.

We did our best to protect him, but it was his decision to protect his sister on his own. Yes, he was young when he killed Layla's dad four years ago, but it was a path he chose for himself. To protect his long-lost sister and niece he never knew; we had to let him go. Even if it went against every protective instinct I have for our boy, I respected him more. We taught him everything he needed to know, just as he teaches us every day. Tate is our compassion, our love, and our moral compass. Julian may be our light and laughter, but Tate is our guide to the future.

"Julian, hold our boy tight while Wyatt helps him relax," I demand, my voice feeling choked with emotion and devotion. Boxers join the pile on the floor. I soak in his relieved sigh at the grip I have on his cock.

Watching Tate succumb to his PTSD when Layla did earlier broke my fucking heart. He's made so much progress from the shaky, jumpy, and terrified eighteen-year-old he came back as after he killed Rylee's abuser. Shooting someone, even if they are a monster, even if it's in self-defense, is one thing. But he had to witness his sister battered and bruised, bleeding in an alleyway, unresponsive. Rylee never once reacted to her little brother's pleas to wake up.

"Mmm," Wyatt moans as he slips a lubed finger into Tate's tight ass. "So tense, T. Come on, loosen up for me like a good boy."

When Wyatt's jaw slackens in awe, I know Tate did as he said, allowing him access to add another finger. Wyatt and I, even Julian sometimes, can be rough in the bedroom, but never with Tate. He's our boy. The piece of us who deserves care and a gentle touch.

Tate may have taken to self-defense like a natural and knows his way around a firearm better than any of us, but he will forever be our boy. He can put on a good poker face, but beneath the surface, he's a man suffering from restless nights, nightmares, flashbacks, and the occasional panic attack. Like today. We each have our own demons, but Tate needs to be taken care of with love and tenderness. For him, I can do that. I may be a gruff asshole, but for my sweet boy, I will be as soft as he needs.

"Calm, babe. Let him in and focus on Zach's warm hand."

Julian's coaxing brings me out of my thoughts. Gathering the precum on Tate's cock, I use it as a lubricant to slide up and down. A garbled gasp from Tate has my mouth watering, especially when his hips kick forward to fuck my hand.

"Ah, ah. You heard your man. Be a good little boy, and we will make you feel so good." My heart constricts when he angles his face towards me while resting on the cool counter. "Let us love you," I plead, knowing the effect it will have.

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