Fall With Me (Playing For Keeps Book 4)

“I’m scared.”

I look at Lennon, pretty as always, but especially banging this afternoon. Her spirals are fresh and glossy, extra bouncy and hanging past her shoulders. Her plush lips are painted a shiny, deep plum that I want to tattoo on my cock, and her long, toned legs are on display beneath that sweater dress she’s wearing, the black lace beneath it that makes it a little longer, before those calves disappear in a pair of knee-high leather boots.

And did I choose my sweater because it’s the same color as Lennon’s?

No, but also, yes.

“You should be,” I finally reply, staring at the front doors of the rec center Carter rented out for Ireland’s first birthday.

If there’s one thing you should know about Carter, it’s that he doesn’t half-ass anything. When he’s in, he’s all in. And when it comes to his daughter? I mean, Jesus, the man basically pays his twelve-year-old neighbor a full-time salary with all the custom shirts he has her making for him, 90 percent of them with his and Ireland’s faces on them. Yeah, he’s all fucking in when it comes to his daughter.

“He said Olivia was gonna be mad at him. Why is she gonna be mad at him, Jaxon?”

I swallow, because I’m 99.9999 percent sure of the reason. The guys and I took Olivia’s side on the whole pony/birthday debacle, and Carter went silent about it. But last week, I caught him asking Google how many garbage bags he’d need to clean up after three ponies. His eyes met mine, he stood slowly, trying to make himself look bigger than me even though I’ve got an inch on him, and said, “You saw nothing, Riley.”

For the sake of my balls, I nodded, hands up in surrender.

“Jaxon?” Lennon prods, and I swallow again.

“I don’t . . . it’s not . . .”

A shadow falls over us, and a tiny body attaches itself to my leg.

“Unc’a Jax!” Connor squeals, hugging my thigh.

“Hey, buddy!” I scoop him into my arms, tossing him onto my shoulders, enjoying the interruption.

Adam sighs as he and Rosie join us. “He got the fucking ponies, didn’t he?”

Rosie gasps. “No.”

Lennon’s eyes widen, and she cocks her head, looking at me like I’m the one who got the fucking ponies.

“Connor, doesn’t Lennon look so pretty today?” It’s a half-shout, because this morning she spent an hour doing her hair and makeup in my bathroom, and when I accidentally knocked her diffuser attachment off the blow dryer while Mittens and I were playing dangly toys, and subsequently her entire collection of hair products off the counter when I dove to save it, then watched everything clatter to the floor in slow motion, Lennon simply stared at me for a long moment before smiling sweetly, turning back to the mirror, and saying softly, “I’m gonna attach a jingle bell to a ribbon, then tie the ribbon to your dick while you’re sleeping. Let’s see how Mittens likes that dangly toy in the morning.” So, yeah. I left the bathroom slowly and backward, and sue me for being a little afraid of getting on her bad side right now.

“Lenny pwetty,” Connor says, bending over my head. “Conn’a kiss Lenny?”

“You know I’ll never say no to that,” Lennon croons, stepping in to get a smooch from the little man.

“Aw, come on, dude. Quit stealing my girl.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I freeze. Lennon, too, and Adam and Rosie. In an ideal world, I’d reach out and grab those words, shove them right the fuck back down my throat where they belong. Since I can’t do that, I yell, “Carter got the ponies!”

“I fucking knew it!” Cara calls, racing up the walkway behind us. “When I was setting up earlier he asked me to leave a space big enough for every little girl’s big dreams.” She shoves Adam out of the way. “Move over, big boy! Mama needs to see Liv hand Carter his balls!”

Emmett sighs, hands in his pockets as he joins us. “She cleared space on her phone just in case there was a fight. She said we could dissect the playback later tonight.”

“Carter!” Olivia’s scream slips out the doors and onto the walkway. “Is that pony poop?”

We race inside, skidding to a halt next to Cara, Jennie, and Garrett, who’s got the birthday girl clutched safely to his chest.

“What the—” Carter claps two shaky hands to his cheeks in the worst display of fake surprise I’ve ever seen in my life. “Oh my God. Ponies? What the—” He turns to us, hands still on his cheeks, mouth agape. “Did you guys do this? Ollie said no ponies. You knew this.” He heaves a long, theatrical sigh, running a hand through his hair as he turns back to Olivia. “Well, I guess since they’re already here, we have to keep them. Don’t worry, pumpkin. I’ll talk to them later about deliberately disobeying you.”

Olivia’s slanted eyes say she’s not buying an ounce of this. She plants her fists on her hips. “No ponies. That was the single rule I gave you. I let you have everything else. Everything. All I asked for was no. Damn. Ponies.”

Carter raises his brows at us, crossing his arms over his chest, head bobbing. “Yup. She told you guys: no ponies. Look, we’re not mad, just disappointed.”

“Oh, for fuck’s—” Olivia buries her groan in her hand, and I’m almost certain she’s murmuring a reminder to herself that she loves him, chose him even. “You know damn well I’m talking to you, Carter Theodore Beckett.”

His arms fall, right along with his jaw. We all gasp.

“Did she just full-name him?” Lennon whispers.

“She just fucking full-named him,” Jennie murmurs.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Rosie mumbles. “It’s beautiful and scary at the same time.”

“Got it,” Cara mutters from behind her phone. “This is going in my year-end highlights reel.”

Carter throws his arms in the air. “She only turns one once! She needs ponies!”

“She’s not even going to remember this! She does not need ponies!”

Another gasp, and Carter rushes over to Garrett, clapping his ears over Ireland’s ears. “Ireland, baby, don’t listen to her. Every little princess needs ponies.”

Ireland blinks, staring up at her dad, head tilted. Then she points at the pile of pony poop in the corner of the room. “Poooooh.”

A third gasp, and Carter claps. “Pooh! Yes, baby! You’re right! That is pooh!” He presses a loud smooch to her forehead. “Fuck, I love her.” He lays a hand over his proud, puffed chest. “And I made her, therefore I also love myself.”

Olivia lifts a brow. “You made her?”

“Well, I seasoned the . . .” He stops when Adam shakes his head, mouthing no at him. “What I mean is, if she were a meal, I prepped it, and you cooked it.”

Olivia’s brow, somehow, rises higher. She presses the heels of her palms to her eyes. “I can’t even.” Walking off, she leaves Carter fumbling for words.

“Ollie! I-I-I . . . I was merely your humble sous chef, but you were the master chef!”

She circles her hand around her crotch, and Carter gasps before she even opens her mouth.

“Don’t say it,” he murmurs. “Don’t you say it.”

“You can say goodbye⁠—”

“No.”

“—to this.”

Another gasp, louder than I’ve ever heard, and when Olivia disappears, Carter screeches, “Britney’s Bitches! Assemble!”

Emmett throws his arms over his head, rubs his torso. “Oh, man. I sure am tired. I should head out.”

Adam points at Rosie. “You needed that, uh . . . you needed help with that thing, right?”

Garrett panics when Carter’s gaze moves to him. “Oh—oh. I think—” He lifts Ireland’s bum to his nose. “Oh shit, yeah. She pooped. I’ll just go change her.”

“Really?” Carter frowns. “Weird you can even smell it over the pony poop. Here, lemme see.”

“No, it’s o⁠—”

Carter steals his daughter from Garrett’s grasp, patting her bum before sniffing it. “Nah, no poop. We can do girl talk later, though. It’s time to get changed. Ireland’s guests will be here soon.”

“Oh, good.” My gaze drops to his T-shirt. Father of the birthday girl, it says in giant letters. “I’m glad you’re changing.”

“Yeah, gotta put my tux on.”

“Your—” I choke on air, coughing into my hand. “Your tux?”

“Always dress my best for my girl.” He grabs a garbage bag off the floor, digging around in it before he shoves an outfit at my chest, doing the same to everyone else. “Costume change! Everyone go get dressed!”

“What the—” I hold my costume up. “Is this Mr. Fucking Potato Head?”

“I believe he just goes by Mr. Potato Head.”

“I’m not⁠—”

“Ireland’s favorite movie is Toy Story, and I promised her all her friends were coming.” He jabs my shoulder. “So put on the damn costume and give me your best potato.”

“I’m Mrs. Potato Head?” Garrett shrieks from beside me.

“Wait.” I thumb at Garrett. “We’re married?”

“Happily.”

“But-but . . .” I scratch my head, looking at Jennie. She’s currently pulling on a dinosaur costume. Why the fuck does she get to be Rex? And Lennon— “Aw, man. Lennon gets to be Buzz?”

Lennon meets my gaze, winking as she lifts her cool-ass communicator thingie on her arm to her mouth. “Star Command, can you hear me? It’s Buzz Lightyear. Jaxon’s throwing a hissy fit; we might need backup.”

I ball my costume up, but I definitely don’t stomp my foot. “This is bullshit. Why didn’t you just partner Garrett and Jennie together?”

“Because this is funnier,” Carter says simply. “Now go get dressed.”

I throw my arms up. “What about Mitts? He hates being left out of anything. He has major FOMO. If Lennon and I go home with costumes for us and none for him⁠—”

Carter pulls out a fuzzy pink hat with a pink button nose, and holy fuck, I can’t wait to go home and turn him into the most adorable pig anyone’s ever seen.

“Hamm? Mittens gets to be Hamm and I’m stuck with this⁠—”

“This what?” Garrett demands, getting in my face. “If you want a divorce, Jaxon, just say so!”

“I didn’t even wanna get married to you in the first place!”

“Oh, well, sor-ry I wasn’t your first choice!”

A boom of laughter comes from behind me. I glance over my shoulder, finding Rosie and Adam attached, Rosie at the front, Adam at the back, the two of them dressed as Slinky Dog. Adam is curled over, howling with laughter, and Rosie is wiping tears from her eyes, her entire body shaking.

Connor tilts his head, looking past me. “Unc’a Emmett?”

“Yeah, buddy,” Emmett whispers from behind me. “It’s . . . it’s me.”

I spin around, stopping dead when I find him. Dressed in a pink-and-white gown, a matching pink bonnet tied around his head, and the crook he holds is, I think, to herd sheep, since that’s what Dublin, Carter and Olivia’s dog, is dressed as by his feet.

I step closer to Garrett, and him to me.

“Hi, hubby,” he whispers.

I swallow. “Hi, wife.”

And then Cara bursts through the doors in a barely there cowboy costume, arms out wide, jazz fingers on display. “Sexy Woody, baby!”

Connor shrieks, running over to Cara. “Yeehaw!”

“There’s a dress-up center in the castle,” Carter tells Adam and Rosie. “I didn’t want any of the kids to feel left out if some had costumes but others didn’t. Connor can pick one there.”

“Hold the fuck up.” I brace my hands out between us. “There’s a castle?”

“Oh my God, yes, Jaxon, there’s a castle. Ireland is a princess. Keep up, please.” Carter claps his hands. “Okay, Ireland and I need to get ready. You guys go wait in the party room and greet the guests as they come in.” He looks at his watch. “Showtime is in twenty.”

Lennon tucks herself into my side as we make our way to the party room. “Are you also nervous that he said showtime?”

“Terrified.” I look at her, smile crawling up my face. She looks ridiculous in her costume, but when she takes me in in my potato costume and grins, I reach forward and slam the visor on her helmet closed.

She whips it back open and karate chops my wrist before gripping one of my Mr. Potato Head ears, yanking me into her. “Touch my helmet again and I’ll rip off every single one of your facial features.” She drags me closer. “One. By. One.”

I smirk, grabbing the tip of her wing when she tries to walk away from me. Hauling her back against me, my mouth dips to her ear. “Thank fuck for my potato. You know I love when you catch an attitude problem. I’m hard as fuck right now, and you can’t even tell.”

She yanks her wing from my grasp, walking backward so she can look at me. “My Buzz Lightyear costume is making Jaxon hard, he just told me!”

Goddammit. I hate how much I don’t hate her.

I busy myself with walking around the room as it begins to fill with people. The décor is stunning and elaborate, but then, Cara does run her own event-planning business, and she personally set everything up because she’d never forgive herself if there was even a single thing out of place at her niece’s birthday party. I’d simply have to leave the country, she said earlier.

I stop in front of the castle. It’s pink and purple and two stories high. Next to it, there’s a wild bouncy house with a giant slide that empties into a ball pit. Whistling, I stroll closer to the warning label affixed near the bottom. Recommended weight limit is 200 lbs per user. Damn it.

Garrett sidles up beside me, drink in hand. He points lower on the label. “Twelve hundred pounds total weight limit.”

“Hm. Interesting. You were checking it out before?”

He shrugs. At least I think he does. Hard to tell under all that potato. “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t.” He brings his drink to his mouth. “Bet you Carter is the first adult on it.”

I’m about to tell him I’m not taking his shitty bet—obviously it’ll be Carter—but the room erupts behind us with shrieks and giggles, flooding with the kids from Second Chance Home. Little Lily is the last one standing as they all run off, nervously twisting her long brown hair around her fingers, shifting on her feet.

And then Adam calls her name, and her entire face lights as she dashes across the room, not stopping until she crashes into his arms. She hugs his neck tight before demanding Rosie, and I watch as the three of them sink to the floor in a group hug, where Connor dashes over, throwing himself on top of them.

“They’re cute,” Garrett says.

“Yeah.” I sniff. “I guess.”

“Don’t tell Carter, but I’m pretty sure Axel is flirting with his mom.” He gestures across the room at our GM, who is definitely, 100 percent flirting with Holly Beckett. Holly looks like she’s short-circuiting, unsure of what to do. She just keeps laughing, a little high-pitched and halfway to hysterical. “Jennie’s already meddling. Invited Axel to her studio grand opening next month. Told him she’ll be running a short dance class for couples, in case there was anyone there he wanted to dance with.” Garrett snorts. “His eyes went right to Holly.”

“Good luck to him.” I hold my hand out, and Garrett deposits his drink in it. I sip it, unsurprised but still disappointed it’s not alcohol. Jennie doesn’t drink, so Garrett doesn’t like to drink when she’s around. I hand the drink back. “Carter will be on that like flies on shit.”

“My God,” Jennie murmurs, joining us. “Sharing drinks? You two really are an old married couple, aren’t you?”

I leave them, but only after flicking Jennie in the shoulder, heading over to Rosie. She’s sitting alone, eyes on Adam, Connor, and Lily as he helps them pick out costumes. She watches as Adam helps Lily into a princess costume, sweeping her hair over her shoulder so he can tie it at the back. Rosie sniffles, her smile as beautiful as it is heartbreaking.

“You really love her, huh?” I ask softly, nudging her side.

“I really, really do.” She nibbles her lower lip. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always.”

“We passed our PRIDE training yesterday. We’re officially eligible to be foster parents.” She swipes at a tear the moment it falls. “I can’t wait to bring her home. I just hope we do right by her.”

“That’s amazing, Rosie.” I sling an arm over her shoulder. “I’m so excited for you guys. And of course you’re going to do right by her. You’re going to do amazing. You’re lucky to have each other.”

She squeezes me softly. “Thank you, Jaxon.”

I sit back, and when I hear a laugh a little higher than the rest, my gaze coasts the room, finding Lennon. She’s got a crowd of kids gathered around her, enthralled with Buzz Lightyear, and she’s really owning the part, putting on a show trying to defeat a cluster of stuffed space aliens.

Rosie nudges my shoulder with hers. “What about you?”

I smile as Lennon judo chops a stuffed space alien out of midair. “What about me?”

“You look like you’re thinking about keeping her, that’s all.”

My pulse pounds, heat pooling in my cheeks. “The sex is great and Mimi’s famous recipes are even better.”

“Mhmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just . . . don’t be afraid to admit when you have feelings for someone.”

“I don’t have feelings for her!” It comes out a little louder than I mean it, and an older couple turns to look at us. I lower my voice. “I mean, sure, she’s great. Fantastic. Honestly? She’s the best. I really like having her around, and I hate it when she cries. So, yeah, I care about her. But I don’t have romantic feelings for her. If there’s one thing I don’t catch, it’s feelings. Colds? All the time. The flu? Had it bad in December. But feelings? Nah. Not me.”

Rosie smiles, patting my arm. “Okay, Jaxon.”

I’m about to tell her to shut it when a speaker crackles, and a gentle voice travels through the room.

“Excuse me.” Hank, Carter’s old friend, speaks into the microphone, smiling. He grips Olivia’s hand. “Olivia here doesn’t much care for public speaking—that’s her husband’s forte—so I offered to do it for her. I’m blind, after all, so I can’t see you fine folk anyway. Hell, I’m telling myself there’s only five of you here, even though I know there’s no way Carter didn’t put his whole ass—oops, butt—into his daughter’s first birthday party.”

Yeah, that’s Hank. He’s in his mid-eighties, blind, as mentioned, and the coolest old person I know, aside from my gran. But right now, I have an issue with him, and that issue is that instead of being forced into costume like the rest of us, he’s wearing a T-shirt that says great-grandfather of the birthday girl, even though they aren’t technically related.

Hank gestures to his left. “If everyone could kindly clear the doorway and gather over here⁠—”

Olivia whispers in his ear.

“Ah, woops.” He swaps hands, gesturing to the right instead. “Gather over here. The birthday girl is ready to make her grand entrance.”

“Grand entrance?” I whisper in Olivia’s ear when she scurries over. She’s strung out, shaking like a leaf. “You gave Carter a grand entrance?”

“Jaxon, you don’t even want to know what I’ve been dealing with for the last four months. We had a few people cancel last minute because of family plans, since Easter falls early this year, and this morning I caught Carter giving Ireland a pep talk in her bedroom about it. Wanna know what he said to her?” She leans closer, eyes wide. “‘It’s your month, not Jesus’s. Don’t let anyone take that from you’.”

“Christ,” I mutter. “He’s unhinged.”

Unhinged must be his cue, because suddenly, the lights go out. We’re shrouded in darkness, murmurs rippling through the room, and then—because why the fuck not—a spotlight flicks on.

“I’m scared,” Lennon murmurs, clutching my elbow.

“We all are, Len,” Emmett mumbles, eyes glued on the doors. “We all are.”

The doors burst open, and thick clouds of smoke billow into the room from the fog machine I caught Carter putting in his Amazon cart four days ago. “Isn’t She Lovely” by Stevie Wonder spills through the speakers, and from the smoke emerges a sight I never thought I’d see in this lifetime: Carter in a black velvet tuxedo, leading his daughter into the room, fully decked out in a ball gown, tiara adorning her dark curls, and . . .

Riding a fucking pony.

Gasps fill the room—gasps of wonder or horror, nobody knows. Carter seems to think wonder, based on the extremely delusional proud smile he wears as he leads Ireland and her pony in a circle while waving at the guests, mouthing thank you, thank you so much, even blowing kisses at the crowd.

“I thought I knew what he was capable of,” I mutter.

“I fought him on this,” Olivia promises. “I said, ‘Entrance songs are for weddings, Carter.’ Do you know what he said?”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Adam murmurs.

“‘Don’t clip my wings, Olivia. You can’t keep this free bird from soaring’.”

Garrett scrubs his hand over his mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Emmett,” Carter calls, snapping his fingers at him before lifting Ireland off the pony.

Emmett dashes over, and Carter shoves the pony’s reins into his unsuspecting hands. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” he whisper-yells as he drags the pony over.

“Can we take it home?” Cara asks, pouting.

“Are you—” He shakes his head. “No.”

“I’ll suck your dick.”

“Fine.”

The music changes before I can ask if he’s serious, if all it takes is the promise of a blow job to get him to do anything she wants. Every woman in the room awws, melting into a puddle as Carter holds Ireland to his chest, slowly spins her around the room while Tim McGraw sings “My Little Girl.”

Olivia is the first to cry, which is no surprise. She hides a lot of emotion beneath her sass. Jennie and Rosie follow two seconds later, clinging to each other as Carter sings along, pressing the words to Ireland’s temple. Garrett is next, and when Garrett starts, Cara and Lennon follow, choking on their sobs.

Adam drags his shirt up, using it to swipe at his eyes. “Fuck, man. What the hell?”

Emmett sniffles, then coughs, and when he blinks, two tears stream down his cheeks. He drags his forearm across his eyes and points at me. “Don’t fucking act like you aren’t seeing this, Riley!”

Oh, I’m seeing it all right. Seeing Carter smile down at his daughter, his own tears shining in his eyes. Seeing him smooth her curls back, press his lips to her forehead. Seeing him tuck her head beneath his chin, clutch her tight to his chest, whisper, “How did I get so lucky?”

My throat squeezes. My eyes burn. My nose scrunches, and a strange sensation touches my cheeks. I lift my fingers to them, sighing when they come away wet.

I look up, finding every set of teary eyes on me.

“Don’t look at me!” I cry, swiping at my cheeks. “I’ll cry if I want to!”

Olivia’s the first to throw her arms around me, and everyone else follows. Suddenly, the nine of us are huddled together, sobbing at a first birthday party.

Nothing else could possibly go wrong.