Page 81 of Breakaway

By the time the three of them returned home, I’d filled five vacancies and set up three interviews for the next week on candidates I’d selected. Dinner was almost done, the spicy aroma filling the kitchen and dining room.

“Fuck yes, Daddy Fletch. You should just quit your job and become our SAD.” Dax laughed as he walked into the dining room, checking the oven.

“Don’t open the door.” I sighed as he did it anyway.

“Why does Fletch have to be sad?” Henley asked, sitting in my lap and kissing me. I eagerly accepted her lips, forgetting she’d asked a question for a second.

“Not sad, SAD,” Dax said, as if that explained.

“You forgot the H, Goldie,” Reed answered, dropping his bag onto the floor and scooping up Lady Sterling.

Dax rolled his eyes as he pulled out some vegetables to chop. “Fine. SAHD. Stay-at-home-dad. Daddy Fletch would be the best. He can make our dinners, do our laundry, and make sure we stay on top of our homework,” he teased.

“Does that mean I can discipline you?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

“Um,” Dax stalled, glancing over his shoulder and swallowing at the look on my face. “You know what, never mind. We’re all adults.”

Henley giggled, hiding her face in my hair. “How would you punish him?” she asked, her fingers trailing through the hair at the nape of my neck.

“Not how I’d punish you,” I purred, my eyes heating. “I’d put laxatives in his protein powder, itching powder in his shorts, and shrink all of his clothes so he thought he was gaining too much muscle.”

Henley snorted as she laughed, her body shaking on mine.

“That’s not funny.” Dax turned and pointed at me with the knife he’d been using, the panic evident in his voice.

“I thought it was,” Reed said, smirking at me.

“Me too,” Henley replied.

“Nope. I’m locking up my shit from now on,” he said, turning back around and chopping the vegetables like his life depended on it.

“I’m just kidding, Dax. Thank you for the smoothie this morning. I much prefer we all help one another out than one person catering to everyone.”

“Same,” Henley responded, kissing my cheek as she exited my lap and strolled into the kitchen. She grabbed plates and sat them at the smaller table.

Reed stood to help her, placing out utensils and drinks. I sat at the long table, just watching the three of them for a few seconds; knowing that this was what living life together would be like, and I couldn’t find anything about it I hated.

I even let myself daydream about kids and what it would be like to be a real stay-at-home dad. I didn’t hate it as much as I thought. In fact, it just might be my new dream.

But first, we had to get through this year and convince Henley to marry the three of us.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Henley

Holding my breath, I clutched the front of my hoodie as I watched the live feed on my tablet. Saint Bishop had been very willing to assist me in getting a response from Dakota. He’d applauded me for the documentary and campaign, stating that he loved the respectful and honorable way I fought back. It had even been his idea to play to Dakota’s ego and invite him in for an exclusive interview on his new morning sports show.

And like a moth to a flame, Dakota had eagerly agreed.

He sat in a chair across from Saint in a fancy suit, sporting the no-sock look. His dark hair was slicked back, and his face was freshly shaven. Dakota wore his charming smile, the one he used when he wanted something, and believed he could get away with anything. As I stared at him, I tried to remember what I’d seen in him.

Dakota was classically handsome, came from a wealthy family, and performed the necessary steps to endear himself to people. It was fake, and I wondered how I’d never seen it until it was too late. I’d been so happy to get out of that relationship, and despite hating he’d leaked my private video, I was grateful because of where it led me in the end.

The guys crowded behind me in the locker room, their warmth helping to soothe the anticipation that buzzed through me. I admired Saint’s technique as he lulled Dakota into a false sense of security, playing up his ego by showing clips of him on the ice. But I was ready for the attack. Saint tilted his head, and I sucked in a breath, knowing the blow was about to come.

“You know, there’s a clip I’d love to get your opinion on, Dakota,” Saint said as he rubbed his chin.

“Absolutely. What do you have for me?” Dakota asked, leaning back in his chair with his ankle resting on his knee.

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