Good Faith: Stewart Realty, #9

By Liz Crowe

Brandis Gordon struggles to maintain control as he ricochets between wild success and miserable failure as an energetic boy, an athletic teen, and young adult, proving time and again how even the strongest relationships can be strangled by the ties that bind.

Blair Freitag spent her entire life in close contact with her family's friends, the Gordons. But when her obsession with the boy who at one time was nothing but a teasing nuisance, blossoms into a strength of will that Brandis comes to depend on a little too much, all bets are off.

A chronicle of three families navigating teen years minefields, into the turbulence of young adulthood, Good Faith holds up a mirror to contemporary life, unflinchingly reflecting life's joys and temptations. Somewhere between the tangle of good memories and bad, independence and addiction, optimism and despair, the intertwined destinies of the new Stewart Realty generation collide, leaving some stronger, others broken, but none unscathed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liz Crowe
• Release date: May 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224680078

Book preview

Prologue

AND...YOU’RE TELLING me this now, why exactly?

Gabe’s chest ached. He kept his fists clenched, hidden in his track pants, and glared hard at both parents—or the people he’d assumed were his parents—aware of the odd relationship his mom and dad had once had with Blake Thornton. A picture in his room of himself as a newborn held by a handsome, green-eyed, darker-haired man than his father never let him forget it. Besides, he already half knew this since his friend Brandis had gotten into one of his shithead moods a few years earlier and dropped that bomb—told him flat out that Rob Freitag was not his biological father.

They’d been drinking illicit beers on the lawn after Brandis’ grandfather’s funeral. Brandis had been sullen and silent. Gabe should have known something bad would come pouring out of his mouth. That episode had devolved into one of their more intense fistfights, neither the first nor the last, but a particularly bad one leading to a near year-long silence between them. He put a hand to his face as if still feeling the pain his friend had inflicted there and in his heart with his words.

He’d let it drop that day, figuring it for Brandis being a dick, as usual. Besides what did it matter? Rob Freitag had raised him. Gabe considered Rob his father no matter which man had impregnated his mother. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, fury gathering at the base of his brain.

They were on their annual winter break vacation with extended family and friends—Jack and Sara Gordon with their three kids, plus Jack’s sister Maureen, her husband Rafe and their son, little Blake, along with Gabe’s sixteen-year-old sister Blair and their parents. He’d turned eighteen back in the fall and had been in a downward spiral of emotion since then. Even after Oregon State had offered, and he’d accepted, a place in their brewing science program, and a spot on the soccer team with a near full ride scholarship.

Brandis had been furious with him, in their typical love/hate way, claiming Gabe had abandoned him and their plans to attend Michigan State together, like their fathers had done.

All the hours he had spent with his parents in The Local, their successful brew pub, learning the business from the back to the front of the house had given him a deep, abiding love of the process. It all coincided with the time he had begun to fill out college applications. His dad had told him about Oregon State’s brewing science program. Brandis had been all over his nerves at the time and the concept of more or less living with the guy after high school was giving him hives. So he’d jumped at the escape option. Now he had to face it—a move far away from everyone and everything he knew and loved. He narrowed his eyes at his parents who sat staring at him in silence as he tried to focus on the news flash at hand.

Well? Why tell me now? Why does it even fucking matter?

His father’s gaze darkened. Watch your mouth, son. Gabe’s face flushed hot.

No, goddamn it. You guys are full of shit, you know it? What’s this little chat about for real? I mean, Brandis told me already, remember?

Gabriel, his mother began, her face calm. He thought back to the year of hell she’d been through—that they’d all been through, thanks to his father. Or rather, the man he considered his father.

This little recollection didn’t help his frame of mind at all, but he focused on her, attempting to match her calmness.

You’re moving away in a few months and are officially a man, according to the law. And trust me when I say it’s not that it matters on the face of it. She looked away, biting her lip.

Rob interjected. Gabe, it’s simple. You deserve to know the truth from us, not from...from anyone else. We were together, all three of us at one time because I.... His father gulped, but instead of making him feel bad, it made Gabe even more furious. Blake and I were lovers, partners, in a committed relationship, whatever you want to call it, before same-sex marriage was legal anywhere. And we wanted a baby. But I had cancer. And I had only a few months to live. He grabbed Lila’s hand, making Gabe roll his eyes at the melodrama. Your mother wanted to help us. But what happened was that we both fell in love with her.

Gabe turned away from them, his brain refusing to take all of this on board, rejecting the whole crazy concept. He closed his eyes against the vision of Lillian Grace, his lifelong friend who, in his confused way, he thought he loved, while at the same time remaining painfully aware of the physical attraction he harbored for some of the guys on his soccer team. Jesus Christ, no wonder he was conflicted. He only existed as a living, breathing result of all this fucking chaos. I knew about the cancer. He said, his voice hoarse. But...really. A three-way? Seriously Dad? He couldn’t even meet his mother’s eyes.

From the time you were born until.... Rob’s voice faltered. Gabe faced him again. The day of Blake’s accident—the day he was killed—they were preparing me to go home to die. My lungs were riddled with cancer. But instead, Blake died and they were able to give me a transplant.

"Jesus, Dad, you’ve got to be making this up." He glanced at his mother. Her dark eyes looked bright but dry.

No one is making anything up. We assumed you were Rob’s biological son because he, I mean, we.... His mother’s voice broke. A tear slid down her cheek. Gabe felt his heart splitting in two at the sight of it.

You people are insane. He backed up, needing to get the hell out of here before he put his fist through a wall in frustration. He loved his parents. Had gotten along with them so well, he sometimes thought there might be something wrong with him. His sister did all the fighting, now that his half-sister Maddie had left home to finish grad school in New York, Blair did nothing but clash with both parents. But at that moment he’d never been more furious with the two people he loved, that he trusted. The pain in his chest intensified.

We should have told you earlier but thought we would wait until you were...you know.

Rob put a hand on Lila’s then looked up at Gabe. Your very existence is an amazing gift to us. A miracle. He looked away. Gabe tried not to shake him. The damn man had a fucking nerve. After all they’d suffered as a family in the last few years thanks to his absenteeism? Now he was getting heavy-handed? Now he wanted to turn their life into a soap opera? Now that we know Blake is your biological father it seems like it’s an even bigger blessing. It made us love you even more, if that were possible.

Why did you bother finding out? he ground out. Never mind. I don’t want to know. I...need to go. He turned, stumbled over a chair and crashed out into the hall, blind with an anger he couldn’t explain. His body hummed with an urgency to get out, breathe fresh air, but mostly to get the hell away from his parents.

BRANDIS SAT SPRAWLED on the couch in front of the fire and television only half paying attention to the movie that had the other kids lulled into a post-ski day stupor. Everyone was sun and snow-shot, red-faced, tired and cranky, including the adults. His parents had treated them all to a huge blow-up argument after dinner, no real surprise there. His Aunt Mo and her husband Rafe had just left for their own condo leaving their son little Blake behind after Brandis insisted he’d be fine.

He didn’t mind really. He liked little kids, and Blake was a trip, flipping from English to Spanish, his boundless energy a perfect match for Brandis’. The kid currently lay draped over Brandis’ lap, glassy-eyed after a long day learning to snowboard. Brandis shifted him over to the couch’s arm so he could stretch his legs. Blair lay on the opposite loveseat asleep, or nearly so. He observed her a while, pondering how much time and energy he’d spent doing exactly that throughout his life.

He got up, antsy and embarrassed by how his body responded to the thought of her. He shouldn’t even think about Blair in any way but as family. They’d all grown up together. She and the rest of the Freitags were joined at the hip to Brandis’ own.

She mumbled and rolled. The quilt covering her slid to the floor revealing her shorts-clad legs and bare feet. He smelled her from his seat across the room. Odors of soap, shampoo, and wood smoke from the time they’d spent in front of the fire, coiled in his brain. Gulping, he picked up the cover and tucked it around her, letting his finger trail along her jaw line. He frowned at the sound of raised voices in one of the upstairs rooms.

A door slammed. Feet pounded down the steps. He stepped away from Blair’s dozing form feeling guilty. Blair’s brother Gabe appeared in the large room, his face bright red.

What’s up? Brandis asked, pulling his sweatshirt down over the embarrassing boner, acknowledging the fact that having the hots for your best friend’s sister was the sort of bad idea that could be the start of a bad movie.

Need to go out, Gabe muttered, grabbing his coat, hat, gloves and boots. Be back later.

Brandis watched him go, then turned his attention to the movie after allowing himself another illicit touch to Blair’s cheek. Deciding that the movie was still boring, he raided his parents’ liquor cabinet, wishing there were some other girl here so he had something to distract himself.

He sighed as he sat at the table. His entire body was tensed like an exposed nerve ending even after the long day on the slopes. His knee bounced up and down as he sipped the bourbon straight from the neck of the bottle, not really tasting it, but relishing the warmth spreading outward from the center of his chest.

Finally he stood up, realizing Gabe hadn’t returned the same moment he spotted the boy’s father in the doorway, his tall, blond bulk filling the frame. Brandis, have you seen Gabe? he asked.

Not for about an hour, Brandis said, trying not to slur.

Shit. The man turned and headed back upstairs.

Want me to go look for him? he asked, gripping the back of the chair, desperate for a reason to get outside.

Would you? Rob turned to him, his face a mask of relief. We had a little falling out. I’m not sure where his head is right now.

No problem. Brandis rummaged through the massive collection of gloves, hats, goggles, and scarves by the back door. Finding what he needed he headed back to the couch and poked Blair’s shoulder. Gabe would be fine. But he wanted some alone time with Blair, and now seemed as good a moment as any. Out hunting for her brother might be the excuse he needed.

BLAIR DOZED IN FRONT of the huge fire as the familiar noises of her parents and their friends talking, and of the younger kids watching a movie populated her half-dreams. Startling when someone pulled a soft blanket up to her chin, she saw Brandis’ bright blue eyes as he covered her. She tried to control her pounding heart when he winked, then moved out of her line of sight. She rolled over, mad at herself.

They’d literally grown up together, gone on countless vacations and spent pretty much every holiday in each other’s company. He’d been her beloved big brother’s best friend forever, although the two of them fought nearly as much as they didn’t. She barely remembered a time when she wasn’t with him, be it a random weekend gathering of the parents in Ann Arbor, at the lake, or here on a ski vacation with the whole gang.

She sighed and tried to relax, but her body kept tingling, annoying the shit out of her. There was no reason for her to feel anything for him but friendship. But lately she blushed and stammered every time he joked or did his usual treating her like a little sister thing.

She let her mind wander to the night before, the illicit beers they’d shared around a bonfire in the snow. The boys had argued about some girl Brandis had just dumped. Gabe had reminded Brandis that he’d acted like an idiot for doing that, because now, he wouldn’t have a date to his senior prom.

Brandis had scoffed loudly and pulled Blair into his lap, patting her hair and threatening to take her to the prom. She’d been utterly undone by it, shivering and trying not to enjoy how comfortable she felt in his arms. But that was quickly stifled by the fury in Gabe’s eyes when he yanked her up off Brandis’ lap, and stuck a finger in his friend’s face. "You touch her Gordon and you are a fucking dead man. You know I mean it so don’t even joke about it.

Go inside!" He’d pushed her toward the house. She’d gone, still speechless from the close contact with the boy she’d begun to obsess over in a thoroughly alarming fashion.

She sighed in her sleep, stretching out and still feeling his strong hands on her legs and hair, his low-throated rumble of a voice in her ear. Blair! She rolled over, imagining him calling her name. Blair! Wake up. We gotta go find your brother.

She sat up, breathing heavily. Huh? She rubbed her eyes. Brandis stood holding her parka and boots, already dressed to go outside. What’s wrong with him?

He ran out, mad at your parents or something, and they asked me to go find him.

So what do you need me for? She heard her argument, but knew she’d go with him. She’d follow the handsome man-boy anywhere.

I want you to come with me.

She stood and stuck her feet in the boots, pulling her hair up in a messy ponytail at the same time.

Fine. She stomped away from him, unwilling to meet his eyes, lest he watch her turn beet red. He caught up to her and they walked in silence, the snow creaking underfoot. The full moon turned the landscape bright white, nearly blinding her as much as the sun.

She had no idea what might have happened to make her brother mad enough at her parents to run off. Parental discord and temper tantrums were not his area. They were hers. She did nothing but fight with her parents—most especially her father. His heavy-handed bullshit attitude about everything from her dating, driving, various nose-thumbing facial piercings, all of it—just made her spitting mad every time he opened his mouth. He’d been such a shit to their family, to her mother. She wondered if she’d ever recover enough to trust, much less like him again.

Jesus, Brandis grumbled, his hands stuck in his coat pockets. Could he have picked a colder fucking night to have a hissy fit and disappear?

You’re an ass. She shoved into him, mad enough at her brother to feel comfortable, more like her old self, around Brandis. He made a mock stumble and then dropped to the ground.

You don’t know your own strength, he claimed, catching her square in the chest with a snowball. Its impact sent ice-cold pellets splattering up to her face. She shrieked, scooped up her own handful of snow and heaved it at him, aiming for his forehead but missing and hitting his chin. Ha! You suck, he yelled as he scrambled out of sight among a bunch of trees.

She stood, chest heaving, then heard him come around behind her. Before she could run away he dumped god knows how much snow down the back of her coat and sweatshirt. The cold shocked her, but as she was dealing with that he shoved her down onto the ground and started rubbing snow into her face.

She yelped and spluttered. Rubbing her eyes and trying to shove him off her, she tensed, realizing he sat straddling her with his strong, NCAA division I football scholarship playing legs on either side of her hips.

She glared at him, trying to get her breathing under control. He narrowed his eyes and then jumped up as if she’d burned him. His gaze was bright and full of something she wished she believed as he backed away from her, grunting in surprise when his butt hit a tree. He shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets acting cool which made her smile. C’mon, he said, turning away from her. I think I know where he is.

Blair got to her feet wincing as she shook the snow out of her clothes and hair. He’d faded to nearly nothing in the increasing gloom by the time she started after him. A few minutes later she got nervous, unable to see him or hear his footfalls anymore. Goddamn you, Brandis. Cut it out. Where are you? Her voice sounded high and squeaky and childish.

Right here, he said, so close she yelped in surprise then flushed at his proximity. She closed her eyes when he touched her face, his cold, gloveless fingertips trailing across her cheek and lips. She really shouldn’t give in to the absurd fantasy she’d had rolling around in her head for the last few months. Look at me, Blair. His eyes shone in the dark. She didn’t move, or speak—she couldn’t do either at that moment even if she wanted to. His finger kept tracing the outline of her lips. When did you get so...pretty?

She scoffed, but her knees shook so hard it scared her. She refused to consider sappy romance from Brandis Gordon. No way. The larger than life, nearly six-foot five-inch football stud had a lineup of girls much older and more sophisticated than she. But now, his hands gripped her arms. And then they cradled her face. This is probably a really bad idea but...I want to kiss you, Blair. May I?

She closed her eyes once more and tried to convince herself this must be a dream. The cold wind bit her skin. Her muscles ached from the last few days’ worth of skiing and snowboarding, reminding her of her very much wide-awake state. She trembled, her teeth chattered, but he smiled and her entire life coalesced around one thing—a thing that she knew full well meant nothing but potential heartache for no one but her, but at that moment felt helpless against.

Yes, Brandis. It is probably a very bad idea. But...oh. She sighed when he touched his cold lips to hers, staying frozen like a loser. This was hardly her first kiss. She’d been going on dates, some illicit, some not, for over a year. But this moment, with the night sounds of a Northern Michigan ski resort filling her ears and the delicious, forbidden and hungered-after taste of Brandis Gordon on her lips—it would always be the most amazing moment of her life.

Years later, after countless hours of happiness, agony, drama, jealousy, loneliness and joy in the arms of this man, she would always recall this flash of memory—the second his lips touched hers for the first time—as a life changer on many levels. She wrapped her arms around him, went up on her tiptoes and opened her heart to Brandis Gordon for the first time. While she cursed fate for throwing him in her path so early in life, this sublime instant of taste, feel, smell and touch made her yearn for more.

By the time they were gasping for breath, their hands clutching and tugging at each other's layers of clothes she heard her brother’s voice. Goddamn you, Gordon, get your fucking mitts off my sister. Now.

The Beginning

Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?

~ William Shakespeare ~

As You Like It

Chapter One

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

Brandis frowned at his friend. "Come on Gabe. Sheesh, it's just a bunch of girls. Here, hold this." He thrust the squirmy hamster into the other boy’s grip and scampered up the tree house ladder, hearing giggles and smelling the popcorn the girls had taken from the house.

Gripping the edge of the hole in the floor, he peered around at the group. His baby sister Bethany was bossing everybody around as usual. The funny redheaded girl, Lilly-G they called her, and his older sister Katie were working a puzzle. Blair, Gabe’s dark-haired, serious sister, lay on her back on the mildewed cushions staring at a book. He hardly remembered her not reading something. His heart pounded at the sight of her, at the way she turned the page after licking a fingertip each time.

He gulped when she flipped up on her side, putting him right in her line of sight. His head pounded.

Stupid girls.

Anger bubbled up in his throat, along with a frustrating confusion, all wrapped up and tied tight with a string of tension he didn’t understand—and that seemed centered directly below his belt. He hated feeling this way. And blamed Blair for every bit of his recent bouts of embarrassing wet dreams and stuttering lame behavior.

Stupid. Stupid girls.

Hey! Gabe hissed from beneath him. Take this thing. I'm not about to piss them off. You don't have to live with her when she's mad.

Brandis tore his eyes from Blair, took the rodent, and put it on the floor before dropping back to the ground, grinning at the sound of the satisfying feminine screams as they dashed back into the trees surrounding his house.

JACK! SARA JUGGLED grocery bags, keys, her phone, and a killer headache on top of a long day. And now, as a bonus, Brandis had gotten in more trouble at school. Bethany had an ear infection, and Katie was in the throes of another boyfriend crisis.

At the moment however, the house was silent, empty of kids but full of their never ending clutter. Crap, she muttered under her breath as she dropped half the crinkly plastic bags on the floor and the other half onto the large expanse of the kitchen island counter. She stood, staring around at the hub of her busy household noting that the kids had not emptied the dishwasher or the garbage bin as they’d been instructed. She shut her eyes, pressing her fingertips to the bridge of her nose.

How did she go from being a happy-go-lucky successful real estate agent to the woman who did nothing but pick up and wipe up other people’s messes?

Taking a minute to catch her breath she caught sight of her boy, the kid who’d been trouble nearly from the moment of his birth. He was such a brutal charmer and always had been. She smiled, watching him dash around the backyard like a maniac, his dark hair in dire need of a barber’s attention. His buddy Gabe ran in front of him, soccer ball at his feet, distracting him from whatever havoc he intended to wreak.

Hey.

She turned around at the sound of her husband’s voice.

Need help? he asked, before picking up the bags from the floor and placing them on the island. Their argument the night before still echoed around the spaces between polite words.

She swallowed her retort about always needing help, and nodded, keeping her mouth shut. She truly loved Jack. Adored him and his innate ability to sort out almost any problem. Their mutual trust had been hard won. She’d not made it easy on him. She knew that.

She watched as he started putting the groceries away, a smile playing around her lips. Most nights they were both too exhausted to do much more than fall straight asleep, much less have make-up sex from whatever random disagreement they’d experienced. Maybe it was time to change that. He caught her staring and winked at her, making her skin prickle. Damn the man, but he never stopped having that kind of effect on her, ever.

Stop ogling me, woman. These cans of whatever they are aren’t gonna put themselves away.

She sighed and grabbed a bag, smacking his hands away from her ass as she rose from her crouched over position putting away some canned goods on the lower shelves of the pantry.

Just trying to help. Jack’s voice rumbled around in her psyche. The familiar feel of his touch on her body made her react in ways she wanted to resist. Had to in fact, considering she had an entire day’s worth of work ahead as a mother, now that her day as successful real estate brokerage general manager had ended, groceries procured, and she needed to sort out which of them to prepare for a hungry brood.

Let’s go out for dinner. Jack pulled her close, his lips at her ear then moving down her neck, making her smile at the sweet, familiar sensation. He kissed her, blocking out everything else.

After a few pleasant minutes, she sighed and disentangled herself, holding him at arm’s length. After all they had been through, all the anger, disappointment, tears and frustration he still had the ability to wipe the slate clean with the touch of his lips to hers. Love, she supposed—pure and simple and yet more complex than anything in the universe.

He grinned and tugged her into his arms again. She let him, relishing the closeness, listening to his heart beating in her ear, sensing his familiar strong body against hers. Words bubbled up, begging for her to voice them. But she stayed silent, content just to be held.

Jack’s confident hands moved down her back and cupped her ass. One crept around to pull at her skirt. She gave into it, and her urgency to be connected to her husband. He’d been distracted. She’d been busy. Between the real estate market ramping up like gangbusters, the success of his Black Jacks soccer venture in Detroit, plus three oversubscribed, demanding kids, the best they managed lately were lazy kisses and rapid slumber.

But now, right now, on a warm, sunny Thursday evening in September she sensed a distinct need rising in her. Matched by the increased pressure Jack put on her lips as he back walked her into the hall, plucking at her clothes, tugging her hair out of its utilitarian tie-back.

Sara, he whispered as he lowered her to their messy, unmade bed. Saying her name like that, like he used to as if a prayer or a wish or a solemn vow, made her zing from head to toe. The same way she had once done every time the man got within fifty feet of her. He kissed her and kissed her until nothing existed but his lips, nothing mattered but his hands and body on hers.

Tears burned her eyes for some reason as he broke their lip lock and stared at her. The bright blue of his gaze pierced her gut. I’ve missed you, he said.

Shut up and prove it, she said, reaching down to unzip his trousers. She knew Jack was sucked deep into one project after another. But right now, she had him with her and she wasn’t about to let him go, literally or figuratively.

Now that they’d taken the terrifying leap of purchasing the Stewart Realty brokerage from the founders, a fresh set of stressors pressed on them daily. While she didn’t regret their decision—made with her complete support after a full evaluation of the positives and negatives—she felt as if it had dug a deep trench between them, one that widened with every passing day. She hated it, but had no idea what to do about it. Exhaustion haunted her days and she felt lucky if she remembered to brush her teeth at night after a long round of work, housework, and kids.

She exhaled as he stood and stripped out of his clothes, then dived between her legs, bringing her such pleasure with lips, tongue and fingers it drove all worry from her mind. She threaded her fingers in his thick hair, gripping hard as she draped her legs over his shoulders.

Oh god, yes! she cried out as his efforts hit all her orgasm buttons at once, forcing a burst of erotic energy up her spine to her brain. After all their years together, the guy could touch her in two places and made her climax. But oh, the glorious moment when she did, as if by magic, drove out any doubt about the strength of their bond

She lay still, breathing heavily, her body pulsing as he flopped down on the bed next to her. A phone buzzed nearby. She ignored it, but he frowned and glanced at the clock on the table. Shit, he muttered, starting to get up.

Oh no you don’t, she said, pinning him down and straddling his hips. He grinned that beloved, semi-lopsided thing that had been such a part of her for so long. We are definitely not done here.

Okay, you convinced me, he said, smiling. She knew damn well his mind was all over the place, thinking about something else already—the phone that kept buzzing most likely, or the sound of the kids yelping and screeching in the backyard. His grin widened, reached his eyes as he yanked her down, keeping his lips a few centimeters from hers.

This isn’t doing it for me, he said, as he broke away and stood beside the bed, staring down at her.

Ears ringing, she lay back, her body humming with anticipation and anxiety. If they couldn’t get this right, then they were doomed. Pulse racing, she waited him out.

Roll over. His words made her shiver. Wrists out, he said, his voice muffled as he went into their walk-in closet to retrieve a few things from a locked chest. On your knees. Yes..., he hissed, running his hand down her back. Just like that.

She sighed with satisfaction when he lashed her wrists with the soft rope and then trailed the end of it down her spine, ending with a firm smack to her ass. This whole BDSM thing wasn’t something she realized she’d missed. They were never fully into it as a lifestyle, just as their own bedroom kink. But at this moment, her ears buzzed, shutting out all the noise of her life, anxiety and worry about kids, work, the house, and their financial situation now that they’d actually bought the damn real estate brokerage from the Stewarts.

Stop thinking, Sara, her husband demanded. The rope stung her flesh again. Now.

She loved him so much at that moment, all the anger she’d accumulated in the last few weeks and months faded as if it’d never existed. More, please.... She sighed, relaxing and letting Jack take over the way he wanted—the way she needed. This was what they’d been missing. And she was ready for it.

Hmmm... she heard him murmur. Yes, I think you do need more. He wound the rope around her ankles, binding her and leaving her utterly exposed, with her face down and naked ass in the air. She felt transported by it. For the first time in what seemed like years—because it probably had been that long—the blessed white space descended across her brain.

The soft leather flogger flicked at her skin, against her sex, even tickling at her bare feet. He knew just how much to add, just how much to take away. Because after he had her zinging in anticipation, every molecule of her stung by the leather or the creak of the ropes, he stopped. She knew he wouldn’t go far, and was likely sitting in the chair by the window, watching her. He loved to watch her.

Then without warning he reappeared, pressing into her, gripping her hips, filling her entire being, completing her in a way that only he knew how. Her climax hovered, and she sensed him approaching his own release.

God, he moaned, his lips near her ear. I can’t hold back, Sara.

Don’t, she demanded, angling her hips and taking him even deeper.

Within a few seconds of one of the most memorable orgasms she’d had in a damn long time, they lay side-by-side, fingers entwined, sweat drying on their skin. Jack held the back of her hand to his lips, kissed it, then exhaled in a way she knew was a precursor to a nap. She allowed herself a small slice of full relaxation, eyes closed, still clutching Jack’s hand as if afraid he’d float away if she let go.

The afternoon sunlight on her face jarred her awake. Jack snorted and rolled onto his side, muttering something about five more minutes. She smiled and pulled the duvet up over his naked body. He shifted. I could go again, if you want, he said.

Right, she said as she draped her arm over his shoulder and pressed up against him. A for effort.

No really, I will. Anything for my wife, you know.

She kissed his neck, bit his earlobe and pondered the possibility even as her mind wandered back to agent-level crises, Katie’s boyfriend issues, what in the hell she was going to make for dinner to feed her troops. Jack grabbed her hand and dragged it down his chest. See. Told you.

She grinned as she palmed his dick. As frustrating as he was, Jack Gordon could sense what she needed most any hour of the day—be it more coffee in her cup, a pick-me-up call at mid-day, or more sex.

Well, since you’re offering...

Mommy! A voice screeched, seemingly right next to her ear, wrenching her back from the precipice.

Moooooooomeeeee! It was the sort of long drawn out siren call of motherhood quickly followed by gut deep sobbing. The sort of crying that any parent hearing it assumes broken limbs or gushing blood as a root cause.

Jack jumped from the bed, pulled on jeans, then unlocked the French door out to the patio.

What? he roared, his voice furious and worried all at once. Sara rolled to her side and tried to pretend whatever crisis was unfolding amongst their children, wasn’t.

Finally her head stopped spinning long enough to get up off the bed. The ropes they had used lay stark against the deep red, soft sheets. She blinked, as suddenly the entire bed seemed made of blood. The ropes were drowning in it, like she felt most days lately—drowning in responsibility, in frustration, in self-doubt.

Sara. Mom. Mommy.  

Multi-millionaire in her own right, thanks to her sales and management skills. But more importantly, finder of all things lost. Preparer of daily lunches. Folder of towels. Attendee at sporting events.

Sara! Jack called outside the open door. She tugged on jeans and a t-shirt, her mom radar now pinging like mad. Better get out here. She could hear the tension in his voice. Could tell he was holding back anger, likely at the usual target—his mini-me, their son, Brandis.

Well so much for that fun afternoon, she thought as she walked out to find her youngest, Bethany, cradling her arm to her chest.

Goddamn it, Jack held her on his lap, his jaw clenched in an effort not to blow his top.

Come over here, baby, she said, pulling Bethany off his lap, and sending the girl into near hysterical crying for Daddeeee! Jack nodded at her, then stomped off across the yard seeking the object of his fury. Sara sat and watched him go, holding their youngest child to her.

Nine-year-old Bethany was the one planned child she and Jack had. Katie, their oldest, spent six years living with Sara while she and Jack came to terms with the depth of their relationship. The girl could probably be credited with holding them together in spite of their individual stubbornness.

And of course—Brandis, the surprise she’d been carrying by the time they finally got married. The boy who’d spent his thirteen years of existence proving how vexing he could be. He was a near carbon copy of his father for looks during his toddler and little boyhood with a volatile temperament and personality that was a combination of his parents. Sometimes Sara wondered if he would even survive to twenty.

His pre-teen appearance had started to morph as well, his body maturing way too fast, his hair and eyes both lightening and intensifying becoming a blend of she and Jack in looks as well as attitude.

An attention and thrill seeker, Brandis drew other children to him like a Pied Piper. But somehow managed to foment conflict that most times ended in tears for everyone concerned—everyone but him, of course.

She held Bethany close, attempting to calm her. After figuring that for a lost cause, she carried the girl inside so she could call Craig, family friend and emergency room doctor. By the time Jack emerged from the tree line at the back of their yard with Brandis, with the kid’s cadre trailing behind them, Sara had changed and stood, car keys in hand. I need to take her in for x-ray. It’s probably broken.

The girl whimpered, still holding her swelling wrist. Bethany had a bit of baby-of-the-family drama queen in her, but Sara figured it for no act in this instance. Jack glared at her, as if it were one hundred percent her fault that their son was such a hell raiser for a few seconds, then he sighed and pulled her into his arms. Sorry. I’m just...

Let me guess, she said, pulling away from him and looking down at their son. He had on his innocent face, his huge blue eyes watery. Jack still had the power to make the kid cry. Sara wondered how much longer that would last. She fell out of the tree house?

Jack knew damn good and well she wanted that thing torn down, or at least fixed, and had been after him about it for years. He’d declared it perfect, a cobbled together rickety inheritance from their house’s previous owners. Claimed that the kids were in little or no danger in it.

Yes. He pulled Brandis closer. But Brandis let Billy the hamster loose while the girls were up there...doing whatever it is girls do in tree houses. He sounded lost at that moment, sad and confused. She put a hand on his shoulder. They’d spent an inordinate amount of energy coming to terms with their own volatility. Including hours of couples therapy that she swore at times made her feel worse, until she realized that they did, actually communicate much better because of it. Come here, Bethy, let Daddy see your arm.

Bethany ran to her beloved father and buried her face in his neck while he inspected the swelling. Sara turned to face Brandis.

I swear, Mom I never wanted her to...I mean...she.... He glanced behind him, and Sara saw Blair, the daughter of their friends Rob and Lila, shoot him a look of worry.

Bethany tried to grab Billy, Blair said, sticking up for Brandis as usual. She leaned over the railing too far. And, um, fell. Blair’s long dark hair curtained one of her eyes.

She glared at her son. You and your father work out your punishment for taking Bethany’s pet. And...whatever else. Katie came running up with Lillian Grace, Craig and Suzanne’s lovely, shy daughter. She and Blair were best friends. Blair was as outspoken as Lilly G was quiet. Where’s...? she looked for the final piece of the Brandis posse puzzle.

He’s looking for Billy, Brandis said, sullenly. His best friend, Gabriel, Rob and Lila’s son, served as his backup, his wingman, the sweetest boy she knew. Light to Brandis’ dark, in temper and looks, with thick, dark blond hair and piercing hazel eyes, he made Sara breathless every time she looked at him.

As she started to guide the mewling Bethany back into the house, Jack called out to her. She turned, already out of sexy fun in the bedroom mode and stuck firmly into exasperated mom gear. She barely recognized the look in her husband’s eyes at that moment. When she realized it as longing, she shivered. Pick up where we left off, later, okay? He put a hand up to shade his eyes against the setting sun.

She nodded. He nodded. They were in sync, thank the Lord because if they weren’t, she wasn’t sure they’d survive against the onslaught of their current life situation. A  wave of tiredness swept over her. But Jack blew her a kiss, which made her smile.

Come on, sweetie. Let’s go see Uncle Craig. She got the kid settled and buckled in, then climbed behind the wheel. After making the mistake of glancing at her phone’s screen and noting the string of messages from various entities at the brokerage she now owned, she put the phone face down in the seat next to her, determined to focus on getting this crisis handled, then back home, and into bed with her husband.

Mommy! Bethany’s piercing whine brought her back to earth. It hurts really bad.

She put the car in gear and pointed it in the direction of the emergency room, making soothing sounds.

Chapter Two

THREE YEARS LATER

Brandis stared at the ceiling of his room as he tossed the football up over his face, catching it each time right before it hit his nose.

Up. Down. The repetition soothed him.

Up. Down. The brown leather ball blocked his view of his Spartan green ceiling fan a few seconds each time, but he kept his eyes on it as it turned lazily, moving the air around his bedroom. He’d been lying there for nearly an hour trying to calm down after a morning argument with his father.

His father—the big shot, rich-guy, soccer club owner, real estate developer, construction company boss—the man who couldn’t walk into a restaurant or a store with his family and not be practically mobbed by people who wanted to talk to him, ask questions, anything short of asking for his autograph.

It had made Brandis proud for a while. It had been exciting having a local semi-celebrity for a parent. But now he hated it. He honestly believed it was all Jack Gordon lived for—the attention. Well that and haranguing him, his sisters and his mother daily for any little thing.

Asshole.

Up. Down. The football felt solid and comfortable in his hands. He’d been playing the game as long as he could remember. It represented the single thing he did right for his father. Brandis had quickly earned a leadership position in the early days at Club Wolverine, during the pre-contact years as a little boy. And his parents had spent tons of money and time on his training since he’d proven aptitude and serious interest at an early age.

He did love football. That was true. But lately even with it and his required seven-day-a-week workouts, private training, speed and agility, and weights, he would still lie awake at night, his body screaming for rest but his mind spinning with images, thoughts, and urges. His skin fairly crawled with something he couldn’t scratch. It maddened him and made him lash out, like he had this morning at his mother, spouting off about something he honestly didn’t remember, which had earned him the earful of bullshit from his father.

Fuck, he muttered, missing the ball after about two hundred catches. It grazed his ear then dropped to the rug beside his bed. Brandis lay still, legs bent at the knees, quad muscles quivering from his early morning session with the trainer. The rest of him seemed to do the same thing—sustaining a sort of sub-radar-like thrumming that demanded movement, action, forward motion. He shut his eyes, draping his bare arm over his face trying to shut it out.

He needed to rest. But her face arose, as it usually did, filling his mind’s eye with her dark hair and eyes, the huge, goofy smile and funny laugh. His body reacted as it typically did. First his skin tingled and flushed, then his dick got rock hard so fast it made him grunt. But he wouldn’t touch himself. He refused to jack off to thoughts of his friend’s little sister—of Blair, petite, bookworm, serious daughter of his parents’ best friends. He rolled over and dragged his laptop out from under the side table, powered it up and found some video of girl-on-girl action that did the trick.

He figured internet porn as mankind’s best invention, right after football, and just before chocolate milk shakes. Sighing, he shut the computer, the smell of his own spunk in his nose. The fan kept turning, mesmerizing him for a few seconds before he jumped up, pulled off his now soiled shirt, and grabbed his phone hitting speed dial for the one friend who’d do anything he asked.

Gabe! he barked into the device as he dragged his fingers through his hair. Let’s go over to....

Can’t, the other boy interrupted, making Brandis frown. Soccer practice.

Oh, right. Brandis dropped into his desk chair, suddenly deflated. He needed to do something, anything, to take his mind off Blair.

Done at five. I can come over then.

Fine, Brandis said, knowing he sounded petulant. Whatever. He didn’t mean to resent Gabe’s time away from him, from being the official friend and distracter-in-chief via video games, sports, or girl-spying.

Okay, Gabe said, sounding as unperturbed as usual by Brandis’ pique. Later.

Brandis hung up without saying anything and tossed the phone on the bed with a huge sigh. He heard his father’s rumbling laughter, his mother’s lighter voice meeting his. Hoping they would manage not to fight for a few hours, he stared down at his hands, flexing them into fists, and then opening them again. Six feet tall at almost sixteen, he’d been told he’d likely be as tall as, if not taller than, his father someday.

He glared at himself in the mirror over his dresser, brow furrowed between large blue eyes. His hair, once jet black, had begun to fade into a rich, dark brown shade and grew so fast it seemed as if he always needed a haircut. His square jaw, full lips and broad shoulders were a mirror of his dad’s. He ran a hand down his still bare torso.

While he never considered being cut a goal, thanks to all the nervous energy he poured into working out and perfecting his quarterback skills he boasted the sort of tone that made him stand out. As an upcoming sophomore at Huron High, backup quarterback for the varsity football team he was, in a word, a specimen. And he knew it.

Girls definitely noticed. Not that he cared much for simpering, goofy attempts to flirt amongst females his own age. He preferred the older girls who’d eyeball him in the halls and classrooms. Such a fucking buzz.

So why all the misery? Why couldn’t he just enjoy his life? He had plenty of money, no real responsibility other than to get and stay in shape for his sport and the usual round of yard work and random chores at home. He sighed and flopped back onto the bed, grabbed the football and started tossing it up into the air again.

JACK STARED AT THE email, trying to sort out how to say no when everything in him wanted to say yes. He’d turned down an offer like the one in front of him once already, as recently as two years ago. He leaned back in the leather desk chair and contemplated the ceiling of his home office, his mind spinning with the possibilities.

His decades old tendency to tally up what he’d done, what he might put on a long list of successes should his father rise from the dead and show up one day demanding to know what Jackie had accomplished, made him wince. Sara had pointed out to him that he hardly ever had her or their children on that list. He considered them a bonus, he’d told her. Something he didn’t deserve or earn but simply had and thanked the Lord he did.

He worked as hard at being a good husband and father as anything else he did. He’d been a diaper-changing ace, and taken over the kids more than once so Sara could take long weekends away alone or with her friends. At one time, when all three kids required it, he’d agreed to a nannie—at what he considered exorbitant expense—but it allowed Sara to work at the rate she wanted and they allowed them to take full advantage of long weekends away together. He’d planned and implemented countless short and long trips for the two of them. His wife had enjoyed herself on those, many times over. Jack made sure of it.

He enjoyed them too because when all was said and done, he adored Sara with every fiber of his being. Nothing pleased him more than pleasing her. He’d even agreed to the couples therapy thing, even if his initial skepticism over it brought on a fairly massive argument that left him sleeping in the guest room for a night or three.

Admitting he’d been wrong about the fact that they’d needed it, and that it helped them communicate better, not to mention form a team in the face of all they had going on right now was one of the smartest things he’d ever done. It wasn’t easy by any stretch but it was worthwhile.

Years that had rushed by so fast he barely remembered milestones. The birthdays, Christmases, spring breaks, summer vacations were always framed first around Kate’s soccer and now Brandis’ football schedules. He frowned, realizing he should be getting Brandis apprenticed on construction work. He had started when he’d been seventeen at his father’s insistence.

His son had different priorities—the football thing he and Sara had enabled. Although lately, Jack sensed a sort of nervous low-level energy around the kid that made him realize he needed another outlet. He had to be focused or Jack had a feeling they were really going to be in for it once he began driving, drinking and screwing girls, unless he’d already done some of that stuff. God knows kids got a way earlier start on all of it these days.

He put a hand on his phone, thinking to call his oldest friend Rob. They’d met on the campus of Michigan State University and had formed an immediate bond around double teaming hot co-eds. Their friendship extended into adulthood past Rob’s declaration of his bi-sexuality. And into an even more surreal zone once Jack discovered that the hot real estate agent he’d been screwing around with was no less than the sister of the man Rob had been in love with for over two years.

Jack sighed and picked up the photo he kept on his desk. The entire extended family sat arrayed at sunset on Lake Michigan, Jack and Sara at the center. His wedding day had been amazing, bizarre, terrifying and perfect all at once—a day he would certainly never forget.

He stared hard at the man who had been such a crucial part of his wife’s functioning and whose death had almost ripped their nascent marriage apart. Blake and Sara Thornton had been like twins, in looks and temperament, but Blake always behaved as a much older sibling, his overbearing, caretaking tendencies regarding his sister nearly destroying Jack’s various relationship attempts with her.

He ran a fingertip over Sara’s smiling face. He’d been holding her in his lap, his eyes not on the camera, but on her. They were surrounded by family, friends, and their first child, Katherine Elizabeth—Katie—who’d been six at the time. Jack clenched his jaw, put the picture down and turned back to the email.

He had to make a decision about what to do next. Knowing full well he should talk it over with Sara, he composed his answer. Something compelled him to act first, talk later, despite his recent therapy-induced training. He hit send and then immediately wished it back.

His phone rang at that moment, startling him. Rafe, his brother-in-law and co-coach of the successful Black Jacks pro soccer team had a question about a player trade. Relieved, Jack talked soccer for a while, watching the sun’s rays traverse his large expanse of lawn, making a mental note to remind Brandis to use the trimmer better the next time. He hung up, after telling Rafe he’d see him tomorrow night at the huge family cook-out they had planned to celebrate Katie’s last weekend home before heading back to Gainesville.

He stood, stretched and took a breath, prepared to apologize to Brandis for popping off at him that morning. Jack’s world felt complete in that instant. He should be content. He had a wife he adored, three amazing children, his oldest headed back to University of Florida on a partial soccer scholarship with plans for medical school, following in her grandparents’ footsteps.

Brandis showed all sorts of promise as a quarterback and had always been an effortless straight-A student. Bethany, the baby, the one they all spoiled like crazy, played half-hearted soccer, but most of all played the devoted daddy’s girl enough to  convince him that talking Sara into having one more child had been worth the effort.

He had plenty of hard-earned money in the bank, owned a construction company and the most successful real estate brokerage in three counties that his wife now ran. He’d helped found an expansion soccer team in Detroit and loved being a part of the daily machinations of that project. He’d done some time in local city management. And now...the sensation of ticking successes off his fingers lingered.

An exploratory group wanted to meet with him to discuss putting his name forward as the Republican candidate for state Senator in the coming election. He paused, sighing, wishing he could have that email back again.

He looked up at the sound of Sara’s voice mingled with that of Lila, Rob’s wife.

Jack and Sara both worried about her. Since Rob’s Brew Chef TV show had exploded as a hit in the last decade, with spin offs like stores full of Chef Rob pots, pans, and other expensive kitchen crap, the man was home less and less, spending long months away on the road for the show, or in production on the West Coast. Jack honestly believed that his best friend might be on the verge of a divorce.

He dreaded the prospect of the conversation he’d been avoiding with the man. The one where he had to ask the question—did you cheat on your wife? Sara was convinced of it, although Lila hadn’t come right out and said as much.

Hey, he called out, stepping into the cool, wide hallway of his house. In spite of basic misgivings, his heart pounded with excitement about the upcoming meeting. He’d spent some time on the Ann Arbor school board and two terms on city council. This next step seemed logical to him, at least at this particular moment. He hoped Sara felt the same way.

He knew like he knew the length of his own inseam that she wouldn’t.

Hey yourself, Sara said, breezing by and giving his ass a pat. Did you help Katie pack up the basement stuff yet?

He frowned, realizing he’d been lost in his own world for nearly the entire day. Um, no. Where is she?

Sara poked her head around the bedroom door and frowned at him. She’s supposed to be here, packing. With you.

Jack ran a hand around the back of his neck. Right. I forgot. Sorry. He grinned and took the few steps between them, planting a kiss on his wife’s angry lips. She let him, reminding him that it had been a while since they’d had much more than perfunctory sex. He made a mental note to do something about that tonight.

Where’s Lila? he asked, watching her strip out of her workout clothes. Although she complained about the extra dress size she couldn’t shake off since Bethany, she looked absolutely perfect to him. He ran his hand over her bare ass. We need a vacation, he said, pulling her onto his lap and burying his face in her neck. You taste great.

Get off me, she insisted even as she shivered. Her nipples hardened as he cupped one of her breasts. Lila’s here, in the kitchen, moping. Gabe’s coming over after his soccer practice...oh.... She sighed as he covered her lips with his. When she broke away, staring at him with a puzzled look in her eyes he knew she could sense something was off about him. Jack what’s up? What have you been doing all day?

Standing and bringing her with him, keeping his lips on hers, a sudden piercing urgency hit his gut translating into a near desperate need to be connected with her, inside her, regardless of who might be in the house. Their breathing got ragged as he carried