Page 73 of The C*ck Down the Block

I’d let myself be free of Rachel, but her claws were dug into me deeper than I expected. And make no mistake, this was her doing. And she was probably reveling in the fallout. And I knew exactly who to call to help me and Chris figure out exactly how to deal with a hater of this depth.

My mom.

SCREW ‘EM

CHRIS

It took a little doing, but we finally got a hold of Trixie’s mom. The pang I felt that we couldn’t also call my mom was sharp, but brief. Together, these women would’ve been unstoppable. To me, there was nothing more powerful than a confident woman who didn’t take shit from anyone.

She gave us her suggestion, and I had to admit, the press wouldn’t see it coming. PR always wanted apologies and statements that sounded fake as shit about being remorseful and pledging to do better. They thought that’s what the public wanted. But not Mrs. Moore. And I agreed with her.

Trixie’s mom laid it out for us, no sugarcoating, no BS. “Rachel’s power over you and everyone else she’s always tried to control, is shame. But sex isn’t shameful. People try to make it that way, but it isn’t. Show her and the media that they don’t have that power, and they won’t know what to do with themselves.”

Trixie took a deep breath and met my eyes. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and a nod. I was used to being in front of cameras with a barrage of flashes and questions coming at me. She bit her lip, and I could practically see the way her brain was arranging and rearranging her thoughts. She was piecing together a strategy, realigning her mindset like she was plotting out chapters in a yet-unwritten book.

“I’m going to have a tough time putting myself out there like that. You know I don’t like to be in the spotlight.” She looked at me, a tinge of vulnerability creeping into her voice, and then back to the screen.

Her mom sighed. “I know, darling. And I think that’s my fault. I shielded you from the attention that came my way and, in doing so, maybe I taught you to keep yourself hidden. For that, I’m sorry.”

Trixie shook her head. “No, you and Dad did an incredible job raising me.”

“We did our best,” Mrs. Moore smiled, and I could see the love she had for her daughter so clearly. “But it’s hard to fight the entire world all the time. A supportive partner can make all the difference. So I’m thrilled you two finally pulled your heads out of your asses and found what was right in front of you.”

My dad chuckled behind us.

“Sweetheart,” she said, and somehow I felt included in that too. Mrs. Moore paused, as if giving her words the weight they deserved. Then, her voice firm and resolute, she delivered her final counsel, “Take up space, Beatrix. Don’t apologize, and don’t let the world shame you for being you.”

We said our goodbyes and it was my turn to make a few phone calls. The first was to Maguire to have him set up a press conference bright and early tomorrow morning. While I did that, the rest of the family called in our troops. Friends, family, and teammates. They’d all be putting themselves on the line for supporting us. And we weren’t going to play by the rules.

The rules were stupid.

Which was not something I’d ever thought I would consider. I liked an ordered life, planned and then executed. Being in love with Trixie was a beautiful mess, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t mind playing dirty even a little bit.

We got rid of all but the most tenacious press by telling them about the press conference in the morning and promising not to leave out any details. But we were still hunkering down until morning. I claimed my old room, and made Flynn go share with Gryffen for a night. It wasn’t like they weren’t used to that. The two of them only whined for, like, half an hour.

I found myself standing in the doorway of my old bedroom, arms up on the head casing, just staring at the memories. The paint had changed, the furniture had been updated, but it still held the nostalgic essence of a time when life was simpler. Right out the window was Trixie’s house, and the window to her bedroom. How many times had we waved at each other? How often had I tried to catch a glimpse of something I wasn’t supposed to?

A lot was the answer to that question. It was also how often I’d wrapped my hand around my cock with her on my mind and her name on my lips in this very room.

Trixie stepped in behind me, her eyes scanning the room with delight, like she knew exactly what I was thinking. I couldn’t help but watch her, the way the shifting light from the hallway lamp touched her face, illuminating her as if she was some ethereal being in a room full of everyday things.

She ducked under my arm and leaned against the trim, looking up at me like we were the only two people in the world that mattered. And in that moment, we were.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started, her voice soft but resolute. “Tomorrow, we’re going to step out there and... face whatever comes. But tonight, right now, can we just be Chris and Trixie? No media, no family, no expectations. Just us.”

Her vulnerability took me by surprise, but it also made her even more extraordinary in my eyes. “Just us,” I agreed, leaning down to kiss her the way I’d wanted to back in high school.

We were at the precipice of something big, something that could either crush us or free us, but for now, we chose to exist in the sanctuary of ‘just us.’

“Wanna fulfill some fantasies I had about you the last time I slept in this room?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

I pulled her into the room, shut the door, and made love to Trixie. Losing ourselves in each other tonight was going to give us everything we needed to make it through tomorrow.

In the morning, there were still a few reporters camped out, and I wanted to go out there and ping them in the head with footballs until they left. I even went out on the front porch with a ball. But the universe must have heard my prayers, because I didn’t have to.

Mrs. Bohacek and her Mustang-blue Olds came barreling down the street. Actually, she was maybe even going the speed limit today. But as she got closer to our house, she slowed, and I saw pure evil in those beady little eyes just poking over the steering wheel.

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