“Uh, you’ve got to call me Daddy. The kids are watching. They can’t call me Carson.”
Rolling my eyes into the camera, I say, “Daddy, what is this about?”
Leaning down, he whispers a muffled, “Holy fuck that was hot,” before facing the camera again.
“Haven’t you seen the TikTok trend where couples who are dating make videos for their future kids to watch? I saw it a few weeks ago and have been dying to do one together while we’re here. I thought now was the perfect moment.” He pans the camera to show the scenery in the background. “I mean, look at these views, kids,” he tells the phone before continuing, “But the mostbellissimaview is of your mama. Isn’t she stunning?”
I turn and burrow my face into his chest to hide from the camera.
“One thing you’ll learn about your mama is she’s bashful, and when she is, her cheeks turn the sweetest shade of pink. Alright, we’ve got to go celebrate our love. Goodnight kids!Ciao!”
He looks at me expectantly, and I sigh in defeat, rolling my eyes at his antics.
“Goodnight, babies. Mama and Daddy love you!Ciao!” I say as I blow a kiss to the camera.
When he stops videoing, he spins me in his arms and rocks me side to side in his embrace.
“Thanks for being a good sport, Austen. I think the kids will get a kick out of that one day.” He’s so confident in our future. It should probably scare me, but I can’t help but feel self-assured too in what we have.
Just as he’s handing me back my phone, I get a FaceTime request from Brody. I click the accept button and hold the phone up to get both of us on the screen.
“Hey, Golden Boy. Look who’s calling before his preseason game.”
Carson’s smile is wider than I’ve ever seen it and I’m not sure if it’s because we just confessed our love to each other or if it’s because he’s talking to his man crush.
“Brodes, how’s it going, buddy?” he asks my brother.
“Hey, Carse. It’s going. About to play in our second preseason game, and I needed to have my pregame chat with Kota Lynn. Are you taking good care of my sister?”
“Always. In fact, ‘Kota Lynn’ just told me she loves me for the very first time,” Carson informs Brody, and I give him a gentle elbow to the side when he uses air quotes to mock my nickname.
“Ouch,” he grumbles, which has Brody doubling over in laughter.
Once he finally composes himself enough to talk, Brody says, “I mean, what’s not to love about you, Golden Boy?” Hearing my big brother call Carson by the nickname I’ve coined him doesn’t sit right with me.
Huh, maybe this is how Carson felt when Jackson called me Super Nanny.
“Where has this bromance come from? Have y’all been talking behind my back?”
Carson shakes his head and gives my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not talking behind your back if it’s not about you. We chat from time to time. Besides, you’re the one who gave him my number.”
I scoff. “Only because he threatened to miss his playoff game if I didn’t tell him who I was moving in with unexpectedly.”
“Semantics,” he says, trying to play it cool when I know internally he’s likely freaking out at casually chatting with Brody. I also didn’t miss the way he called my brother “Brodes.”
“Next thing I know y’all are going to tell me you asked for permission to date me from my brother.” I chuckle to myself, only to have that laughter quickly die when I see the guilty look on Carson’s face and watch as Brody fights back a snort that eventually escapes.
“God, this is good stuff,” Brody says as he points to the two of us. “You two are hilarious. If I play well tonight, we’re going to have to make this my new pregame ritual.”
“Your superstitions are getting out of hand, Brodes,” I say in exasperation.
“What I think your sister meant to say is, of course, man. Anything you need. I take my pregame rituals very seriously as well.”
Rolling my eyes, I mumble, “Kiss ass,” to which Carson begins tickling my sides so badly I think I’ll drop my phone.
Unable to catch my breath, I let out an unbecoming snort-gasp, to which Brodes gives me shit for.
“I know you were raised on a ranch, but you weren’t born in a barn, Kota Lynn. Get a hold of yourself,” he gripes, not sounding one bit serious.
