Page 110 of Tangled Desires

“Oh, fuck—Harrison!”

I shatter in seconds, coming hard, thighs clenching around his head as he groans against me, drawing out every pulse, every shiver. When I finally come down, breathless and boneless, he looks up at me, smug as fuck. “Didn’t take long,” he chuckles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I laugh weakly. “Shut up. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Fucking oath I do, Immy-girl.” He leans up, kissing me slowly—tasting like me and him all at once.

Dinner at Dad’s place is, against all odds, actually going well. He’s got everyone here—Joe, Nancy, Michael—all under one roof. Dad laid down the law right from the start: “No drama tonight.” And by some miracle, that’s exactly what we’re getting. Harrison had warned him this might not be the best idea. Too much history, too many ways it could go wrong, despite them working through things. But here we are, and for once, it’s… calm.

Harrison sits next to me, hand resting on my thigh under the table, his touch steady, keeping me grounded. Michael’s even managed to get his mum laughing a few times—she’s really giving it her best. And that’s enough for me.

“So, Joe,” Dad says, cutting into his steak. “How’s the shop? Still slammed with repairs these days, right?”

“Yeah, bloody oath I am. Not that I’m complaining. Nothing like bringing an engine back to life.”

“Hear you on that. Picked up a new client—wanted the whole yard redone, drought-resistant and all. Got me thinking I’ll need a new tray soon, maybe even a suspension upgrade before next season. Been meaning to chat with you about it.”

Joe’s eyes light up. “Oh yeah? Stop by anytime. I’ve got a couple setups in mind that’d do the trick. Nothing like the right rig to make the job feel half as heavy. Plus, I’ve got my boys helping me. They’ll set you up. Soon enough, that shop’ll be theirs to run.”

Dad nods. “You’ve raised ‘em right, mate. Takes a good man to keep his boys on track.” He turns to me. “And how’s little Joseph doing?”

“He’s good,” I say, smiling. “Keeps us on our toes, and yeah, most nights he’s got me pacing the house, bouncing him back to sleep, but we’re getting a hang of it.”

“That’s my girl. Figured you’d handle it like a champ.”

“Sure—a sleep-deprived, zombie-level champ.”

Nancy clears her throat, leaning forward with a little hesitation. “Imogen, if it’s all right with you… I’d love to spend more time with Joseph, get to know him a bit. I’m part-time now, so I’ll be home most days.” Her voice is careful, and the look in her eyes almost holds its breath, like she’s waiting. Nancy’s really putting in the effort, making it clear she wants a place in Joseph’s life.

There’s still something underneath it all, though—a weight, a hard knot of resentment that she’ll never fully erase for what she did to Harrison and Michael. For what she didn’t do. It’s there, buried deep inside me, and I can’t just ignore it. But Harrison’smoving forward, and if he’swillingto rebuild something with her, I have to at least try. For him. For our son.

Harrison’s hand squeezes my thigh, his silent nudge of support. “I’d appreciate that, Nancy. Thank you.” At that, we all dig in, passing plates and talking over each other in that easy way only family can. Then, in the lull, Michael taps his glass with a fork, smirking.

“All right, let’s all raise a glass—to family, aye?”

We all clink our glasses, a ragged, happy chorus of “Cheers” going around the table. For a brief second, everything is normal. No drama, no chaos, just us, just… family. And I’ll take it.

We’re mid-bite when the doorbell rings, and I get up, figuring it’s one of Dad’s neighbours needing a cup of sugar or some nonsense. But the second I open the door, I freeze.

“Hello, Imogen.” My mother’s voice is as sharp as I remember. It’s like time hasn’t touched her, at least not the way it should have. Ice-blonde hair, perfectly curled, leopard print dress, dripping in enough gold to outfit a jewellery store. And her eyes? That glinting entitlement—the look of someone who’s never heard the word no in her life.

I can barely find my voice. “What are you—Why are you here?”

She tries to push past me, but I block her, holding firm. She huffs, straightening herself like I’m the one inconveniencing her. “I’m here to see my grandchild,” she declares, chin lifted.

I don’t fucking think so. The disbelief quickly turns to anger. “And how, exactly, do you even know about him?”

“Cameron told me. Said he saw you.”Of course.The half-brother she still keeps in touch with, while I’m the daughter she tossed aside like yesterday’s news. My grip on the door tightens as I stare her down.

“And how do you know he wasn’t mistaken? Could’ve seen someone else.”

She scoffs, folding her arms. “He knew it was you. He saw your bump, Imogen. Stop wasting my time.”

“You’re wasting your own time,” I snap. “You need to leave.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Imogen. I have a right to see my grandson.”

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “A right? You gave up any ‘rights’ when you walked out. You don’t get to waltz back in just because there’s a baby now. That’s not how it works. So, turn around and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

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