Chapter One
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Hardwin
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Couldn’t believe that at fifty-six years old, I was lugging a suitcase up my twenty-eight year old son’s driveway to see if I could crash with him and his wife for a few weeks while I got my feet under me.
I always thought if I ever ended up living with my son again, it would be him coming home to me and his mother. Not the other way around. But in a matter of weeks, my life had turned into a catastrophic shit storm that I hadn’t seen coming.
I’d thought my wife and I were content. Sure, we weren’t in love. I wasn’t sure we ever truly had been. We’d been two friends drunk off our asses one night who were horny and high, fucked, and wound up with our son nine months later. We’d gotten married so he could have a stable home, and we’d been comfortable. Our lives together had been comfortable.
But I’d been wrong. So fucking wrong. Dead damn wrong.
Because in the almost twenty-nine years Emily and I had been married, she’d had numerous affairs. Had been screwing so many men behind my back. And the only reason I’d found out is become for once in my damn life, I’d come home from work just a smidge too early and caught the son of a bitch with his pants beneath his ass and his dick in my wife’s cunt while she was bent over the back of the couch.
I’d filed for divorce the very next morning.
Emily and I hadn’t touched each other in years, but I’d been celibate because that was what a good fucking husband did. I kept my hands to myself and became real acquainted with porn. I’d done what I was supposed as a husband while my bitch of a now ex-wife had been spreading her legs for every man that wanted to slide between them.
My attorney had advised me otherwise, but I’d given her everything but my Jeep. She got the house and all the bills that went with it. I’d packed what was important to me and stuffed it into a storage unit, then packed a suitcase with my bare necessities.
And then… I’d come here. I had nowhere else to go. Didn’t really have friends to speak of. But I figured if anyone would come through for me, it’d be Tristan. He and I were close while he was growing up, and while he’d distanced himself a little after meeting Paige and getting married, we still talked often.
I was hoping I wasn’t wrong in thinking he’d let me stay for a while. And I really hoped I wouldn’t be intruding on him and his wife.
Blowing out a harsh breath, I lifted my hand and pressed my finger to the doorbell. The sound could be heard echoing throughout the house. Sighing, I shoved my hand through my hair. My stomach rumbled with hunger. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. Since the divorce had been finalized yesterday, I’d been running on autopilot.
The front door swung open, and my son stood there, blinking at me in surprise. The light from inside of the house cast a golden glow around him. His black hair was a mess, and he was shirtless, only a pair of black sweatpants riding low on his hips. Ink swirled over his skin as he reached up to scratch at his jaw, frowning at me.
“Dad?” he asked, his frown only deepening when he took in my suitcase. Quickly, he stepped to the side, gesturing for me to come in. “What’s going on?” he asked as I passed him.
I sighed, listening as he shut the door behind me. His wife, Paige, was nowhere to be seen, but with it being almost ten at night, she was more than likely in bed like a normal person. Hell, I’d probably dragged Tristan out of bed, too. This probably could’ve waited until the morning, but I really didn’t want to spend another night in a fucking hotel room.
“It’s a long story,” I told him quietly. “But in a summary, your mom and I are divorced, and I need somewhere to crash. I’m frankly sick of staying in a hotel.”
Tristan’s brows furrowed in concern, but instead of questioning me further, he just nodded. I hadn’t expected him to pry. He and Emily had never really seen eye to eye. Tristan was a hard ass, cocky, and had a thing against any kind of authority. And Emily was a control freak through and through. I had a feeling no love would be lost between the two of them.
“Yeah, sure,” Tristan said. “You can crash in the guest room. And you can stay as long as you need. I’ll fill Paige in on the living situation.”
“Thanks,” I murmured. “I hate crashing on you two like this.”
Tristan waved me off. “It’s no big deal. I promise. Make yourself at home. There’s left over lasagna in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
With that, he made his way upstairs, then disappeared into his bedroom. Leaving my suitcase in the entryway, I headed into the kitchen to warm up the lasagna he’d mentioned. I scarfed the bowl-full down in about five bites, then guzzled a bottle of water to wash it all down.
I was unloading my few items of clothing into the dresser when Paige’s moan reached my ears. My cock swelled so fast in my jeans, it made me a little dizzy. Gripping the dresser, I drew in a deep breath, my nostrils flaring when their headboard began to bang against the wall.
“Tristan, fuck me. Please. God. Harder. Harder,” Paige wailed. The bed smacked the wall harder and faster. Panting as if I were right there, as I were the one fucking her, I leaned heavily against the dresser and frantically unsnapped my jeans before plunging my hand into my boxer briefs. It took three strokes, and then, I was groaning as I came all while her screams of ecstasy echoed throughout the house.
