I smile with sincerity. “I am very, very attracted to you.”
The corner of his lips rise. “Funny, I’m also attracted to you. What are we going to do about that?”
“Make love and make babies.”
His brows shoot up. “You already want to make babies with me, Calloway?”
“I want to do lots of things with you.” I use a very diplomatic response, walking on a thin rope with this subject. I have no idea where his head lies. His thoughts could match his brother’s. Lo doesn’t want children because alcoholism is hereditary. Lily told me his stance on the matter. Well, really she told Rose and I was in the same room, and I kind of, sort of, inserted myself into the conversation. I realize that sounds annoying, but I just want to be close to them before they move away and start families.
He kisses my lips, his tongue easily slipping into my mouth and sliding against mine, and then he breaks apart and says, “Me too.” He stands, setting me on my feet. And he grabs his underwear and jeans, beginning to dress. I gather my clothes and watch him with curiosity. I didn’t think I would care this much about his feelings on children, but I am dying to find out.
“You know I was joking about the babies,” I say, slipping my panties on. He hands me my shirt, and the tension of this conversation constricts my lungs. He doesn’t let much through his dark gaze, which makes this hard. “But I’m curious…”
“You’re always curious,” he says, messing my hair with a rough hand.
“I’m really, really curious.” I smile. “Are you hoping to get married and have kids one day?”
He pulls his T-shirt over his head and grabs his bike jacket off the ground, shaking the dirt off it. And then he runs a hand through his hair, a giveaway that my question makes him a tad bit anxious. “I’m not like my little brother, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he says, putting his jacket on. “I do think alcohol may be an issue for whatever fucking kid I have, but this disease isn’t going to take anything away from me. I won’t let it.”
The answer almost makes me smile. I wish Lo felt the same way, but I think it’s different for him. He’s been battling his addiction for much longer and he had a much bumpier road than Ryke.
He fixes his hair, trying to comb through the disheveled strands with his fingers. “Look,” he suddenly says, his thoughts collected to form a whole response. “I can’t do to my kids what my parents did to me. The separation, the divorce, the fucking fighting. I want to be in a serious, committed relationship before I have a child.”
“You mean marriage,” I say.
“When you’re married, you can still get divorced. I don’t take that much stock in the word. I just need the emotional fucking commitment.” He motions with his head towards the path we came from. “Let’s start walking.”
I follow him, keeping up with his lengthy stride.
His eyes flicker to me a couple times while I stay silent and digest this information. “What do you want?”
I smile. “Look who’s curious now.”
He brushes a cornstalk out of my way. “Yeah, well when you joke around I have to read between the lines, and I don’t always read you right. It’s easier asking you.”
I’m glad he asked. It definitely means he cares. “I want to be fully committed to someone, to be married, probably earlier rather than later. And I do want babies. Maybe like three. I also want to travel and visit the great seven wonders and scuba dive and stand beneath a waterfall in Costa Rica, kissing you.”
He reaches out and holds my hand.
My heart swells.
“Not in that order,” he tells me.
My lips pull high because he didn’t discount a single one of my wants. In fact—I can see it in his eyes.
He wants all of it too.
< 45 >
RYKE MEADOWS
“Just take your time,” Connor tells me over the phone. “We stopped in Roswell because Lily and Lo wanted to see the aliens. They spent four hours in the museum—excuse me, I mean the propaganda shit hole.”
I hear Lo in the background. “And you made us spend three hours at a graveyard. Between us, who’s the super freaky one, love?”
“It was a war cemetery,” Connor tells me. “And Rose and I were searching for our ancestors.”
“I won,” Rose speaks up. “I have three more dead relatives than Connor.”
I shake my head. “You all are fucked up.”