Chapter 1: The Loophole
The digital clock on the Airbnb nightstand silently rolled over to 4:00 A.M.
Right on schedule, Matt’s eyes fluttered open in the quiet room. The night before, after they had gotten back from the steakhouse, Matt had spent ten minutes tinkering in the Airbnb bedroom, tightening a rattling heating register and fixing a squeaky closet hinge. His brow had furrowed at what he called “two kinds of trouble.”
Erin had watched him from the pillows, sighed, and made him swear he would take a rest day from the gym in the morning. Sunday was the final day of Parents Weekend, and they faced a long drive back home in the minivan.
Matt stretched his legs under the sheets. His body hummed with leftover energy from Saturday night. He felt completely cleaned out—rested, firing on all cylinders. If he didn't burn off some idle energy and stretch his legs now, he'd be restless behind the wheel later that day. Heavy iron and long miles had always been his best medicine to keep the noise in his head quiet.
He rolled out of bed with practiced precision, shifting carefully so the springs wouldn't wake Erin. He pulled on a pair of running shorts and a faded cutoff t-shirt.
He padded into the hallway and ducked into the bathroom. He peed and then loaded up his toothbrush, humming “Born to Run” around a mouthful of minty froth, perfectly timing his full two minutes of brushing.
He spit, rinsed, and wiped his mouth. Opening the medicine cabinet, he grabbed the familiar orange prescription bottle, tapped a capsule into his palm, and dry-swallowed his daily dose. He walked into the kitchen to set up the coffee maker and mugs for Chloe and Erin.
Matt was a man of his word. He absolutely wasn't going to the campus gym. But a nine-mile jog through the campus and the surrounding residential neighborhoods? That was just cardio—practically a leisurely stroll.
Satisfied with his ironclad loophole, Matt slipped quietly out the front door.
He inhaled the morning air, just starting to carry a crisp chill. He welcomed the bite of it.
“Early bird gets the worm,” he whispered under his twitching mustache, and bounded off the front steps.
At 6'3", he was a statuesque figure, long-legged but packed end-to-end with chiseled muscle that quickly generated its own heat. He took his route directly through the campus quad, his chunky sneakers hitting the pavement in a steady rhythm. He passed a bleary-eyed undergrad jogging in the opposite direction and offered a cheerful two-finger salute.
"Keep up the good work, partner!" Matt called out, letting his booming voice ring across the campus.
Leaving the quad behind, he transitioned into the bordering neighborhood—a charming mix of historic homes and sprawling oak trees. He couldn't help but catalog the real estate as he ran. He nodded approvingly at a Tudor with newly repointed brickwork, then frowned at a Victorian that desperately needed its gutters cleared before the autumn rains hit.
He was just crossing mile seven, keeping a solid eight-minute pace, when he spotted two figures jogging a couple of blocks ahead of him.
His competitive streak nudged him just a bit. Instead of turning back toward the Airbnb to finish his nine-mile loop, he lengthened his stride. Within a few minutes, he was closing the gap.
The guy on the left was shorter, with messy blond hair, packed with compact muscle that strained against a white tank top. The guy on the right was taller, with dark hair and an olive complexion. He was built completely differently—lanky and long-limbed, with the wiry definition of a serious distance runner.
As Matt pulled up right behind their shoulders, he didn't want to startle them, so he deployed his absolute best, booming dad-voice.
"Morning, gents!" Matt called out cheerfully, flashing a bright grin. "Beautiful day to log some miles!"
Both guys glanced over their shoulders. Instead of just waving him past, the taller guy flashed a look at the blond one. They seamlessly fanned out, opening a space perfectly between them.
"Morning, big dog," the blond one said, easily matching Matt's pace. His eyes quickly scanned Matt’s form, tracking from his flopping blond cowlick to his chest down to his long, blond-furred legs. “You’re putting it in.”
Matt let out a warm chuckle that echoed down the quiet street. "Well, you know what they say—if you rest, you rust! I'm Matt."
"Jax," the blond guy said.
"Cassidy," the taller guy added from Matt's right side, his gaze tracking the steady motion of Matt’s long thighs. "You're welcome to fall in, if you want the company."
"I never turn down a good running crew," Matt smiled, his mustache ticking up at the corners.
They fell into a natural rhythm together. It was exactly the kind of easy, athletic camaraderie Matt thrived on.
"Up here for Parents Weekend," Matt offered, his breathing perfectly measured as they turned a corner in perfect sync.
"Architecture program," Jax huffed, pointing a thumb between himself and Cassidy.
"Grad program," Cassidy clarified, flashing a sharp grin. "And married."
Matt glanced between them. He noted the V of sweat spreading down the center of Jax's tank top, and the way the moisture was pasting Cassidy's running shirt directly to his lean ribs.
"Married architects," Matt rumbled warmly. "You boys must run a tight ship."
Cassidy let out a breathless laugh. "Actually, we're pretty flexible when you get to know us."
Matt grinned, catching Cassidy's eye. "I'll bet you are."
They ran in silence for a bit after that. Matt made sure to keep pace, simply enjoying the steady, physical output, and the synchronized breathing of three men working together.
As they finally looped back through the neighborhood, Cassidy pointed ahead. "Our stop is just up on the right."
They pulled up in front of a single-story Craftsman with a front porch.
"Good bones on this one," Matt noted, his eyes scanning the wooden pillars. "Nice roofline."
He slowed to a halt, bending over and stretching one pumped calf, and then the other. He was breathing hard, coated in a sheen of sweat. His cutoff t-shirt was plastered to his abs, the blond fur on his arms dark with moisture, and the crisp morning air was doing absolutely nothing to cool the heat radiating between the three of them.
Cassidy wiped a sheet of sweat from his forehead. "We've got a pitcher of ice water in the fridge. Why don't you come inside and cool down for a minute?"
Matt looked between the two flushed, incredibly fit young men. His internal clock quickly did the math. It was barely half past five in the morning, which meant the family's eight o'clock breakfast plan was very, very far away. He had plenty of time for a detour.
"Hydrate or die-drate, I always say," Matt answered warmly, a slow, easy smile spreading across his face. "Lead the way."
Chapter 2: The Cool Down
Matt followed the two grad students up the wooden steps and into the Craftsman. As Jax unlocked the front door, Matt’s eyes swept the interior, noting the original hardwood floors and the solid trim. "Great craftsmanship in here," Matt said appreciatively.
Jax and Cassidy both reached down and pulled their soaked running shirts over their heads, tossing the damp fabric onto the floor as they walked into the kitchen, as if Matt wasn't even there.
It was a hell of a show. Jax was a block of compact muscle—thick chest, capped shoulders, and a tight, dense core. Cassidy was built completely differently, but just as striking. He was long and lean, his smooth olive skin stretched taut over the wiry muscle of a serious distance runner. A sharp, deep V-line cut down his lower abs, pointing right beneath the waistband of his low-slung shorts.
Cassidy pulled a sweating glass pitcher of ice water from the fridge. A stray bead of sweat traced a slow path down the center of his bare chest as he reached for three glasses. He filled them, passing one to Jax.
Jax hopped up to sit on the edge of the kitchen island, spreading his knees slightly, his sharp eyes locking right onto Matt. "So, big dog. What do you do when you’re not running grad students into the ground?"
"Project manager," Matt rumbled, his thumbs hooking casually into the waistband of his running shorts. “A little bit of everything. I like to root out trouble.”
As Cassidy passed Matt a glass, his long fingers dragged across Matt's knuckles. “I’ll bet you do.”
Matt gulped the water down, his throat working as he drained half the glass in three huge swallows. He let out a satisfied exhale and pressed the cold, sweating glass to his forehead, closing his eyes for a brief second against the chill.
"You're going to overheat in that wet shirt, Matt," Jax murmured. He extended a leg to tap Matt’s calf with the toe of his running sneaker. "We aren't standing on ceremony here."
"Yeah," Cassidy added, stepping up beside the island. His dark eyes dropped to the sweat-plastered grey cotton clinging to Matt's abs. "You're going to warp our hardwood with all that heat."
"Well, we can't have that," Matt chuckled, a slow, easy grin spreading beneath his mustache.
Matt set his water glass down on the counter. He reached down, grabbed the hem of his soaked shirt, and pulled it up over his head.
The scale of him was finally fully exposed in the bright kitchen light. The nine-mile run had his upper body in a state of swollen pump. His chest was high and hard, covered in a pelt of golden-blond fur that tracked down the deep centerline of his stomach. Lean hips, long powerful thighs, broad shoulders—everything sitting exactly where it should.
He tossed his shirt onto the floor next to theirs.
Jax’s mouth parted slightly as his eyes tracked over the sprawling real estate of Matt’s chest. Cassidy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Jesus,” he breathed quietly. “Look at you.”
Jax let out a low, appreciative sound. “Fuck.”
They exchanged a loaded look—a silent conversation passing between the married couple in an instant—before their eyes snapped right back to Matt.
Jax leaned back on his hands, his knees spreading just a fraction wider on the island. “You know, Matt… it’s an old house. Things get a little creaky.”
Cassidy took a step closer, his voice dropping into a low, smooth pitch. “We’ve got a project right here in the bedroom that could definitely use some hands-on attention. If you’ve got the time.”
Matt’s golden-retriever charm melted. The dad-switch flipped. He looked at the two beautiful, fit young men practically offering themselves up.
He reached up, pushing his sweat-dampened blond hair back from his forehead, feeling the stubborn flop of his cowlick fall right back into place. A willing smile pulled at the corners of his mustache.
“Well, boys,” Matt growled warmly, rolling his shoulders as he stepped forward. “I’m always happy to help out the neighbors.”
Jax didn’t need to be told twice. He slid off the edge of the island, closing the small gap between them in a heartbeat. Cassidy stepped in right beside his husband, boxing Matt in against the kitchen counter.
Matt let out a low, approving hum. He reached out with one arm, wrapping it securely around Jax’s waist, and hauled the shorter man flush against his body. He bent his head, capturing Jax’s mouth in a hot, wet kiss. Jax still tasted like ice water. His hands flew up to the wet blond fur on Matt’s pecs, squeezing, clearly enjoying the dense muscle under the hair.
Without breaking his hold on Jax, Matt raised his free hand and cupped Cassidy’s ass. He broke the kiss with the blond and turned to pull the taller runner in. Cassidy’s mouth was smooth and eager, his long, lean body pressing flush against Matt’s side.
While they kissed, Jax’s hands kept moving—sliding down Matt’s stomach, over the ridges of his abs, then lower. His fingers hooked into the waistband of Matt’s running shorts and slipped inside. He found Matt already hard and wrapped his hand around him, giving a slow, deliberate stroke.
Matt groaned into Cassidy’s mouth.
Cassidy broke the kiss just long enough to look down, watching his husband’s hand work inside the shorts. “Fuck… look at that.”
“I know,” Jax murmured, still stroking. “He’s thick.”
Matt’s hand moved from Cassidy’s rear to the front of the taller man’s running shorts. He cupped the hard length he found there, squeezing once through the fabric, then slipped his fingers under the waistband and took him in hand properly. Cassidy exhaled sharply against Matt’s neck.
Jax was still pressed against him, still working him with a steady stroke, while Cassidy pushed into Matt’s fist. The three of them stayed locked together like that for a long moment—kissing, stroking, grinding—until Matt finally pulled back, breathing heavily.
He looked between their flushed faces, his wholesome warmth completely replaced by absolute focus.
“Alright,” Matt murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. “Now about that project.”
Chapter 3: Two Kinds of Trouble
They barely made it down the short hallway.
Matt walked Jax backward while Cassidy stepped in right behind him—grinding against his ass, clutching at his chest, sandwiching him between them. It was a tangle of hot, eager mouths and groping hands. When they reached the bedroom, Jax backed up against the heavy wooden door and pulled Matt in with him.
Jax broke the kiss and dropped onto the edge of the mattress. Cassidy moved with him. Both of them ended up on their knees in front of Matt. Together they grabbed the waistband of his running shorts and the briefs beneath them and yanked them straight down.
Matt’s cock sprang free—rigid, thick, nested in a bed of coarse red-gold hair.
Both of them let out low, appreciative sounds. Jax leaned in first, taking the blunt head into his mouth, lips stretching wide. Cassidy joined him immediately, licking up the side of the shaft, then taking one of Matt’s balls into his mouth and sucking gently while his husband worked the head.
Then they shifted together. Both pressed in close, lips sealing on either side of Matt’s cock, and began moving up and down in unison. The wet friction of two mouths sliding along the same thick length pulled a rough, gravelly sound from Matt’s throat.
“Oh fuck, guys,” Matt groaned, resting his hands on both of their heads.
He could feel the difference in them—Jax’s broader mouth, Cassidy’s longer, more precise tongue—working him from both sides at once. Their spit mixed. Their noses occasionally brushed as they shared him.
They kept at it like that, then traded off. Jax took him deep for a few long strokes, then pulled off so Cassidy could wrap his lips around the head and suck while Jax licked and mouthed at the base and balls. They passed him back and forth, wet and eager, both clearly enjoying the hell out of it.
When Jax finally pulled off, he lapped up the string of spit and pre-cum that fell from the slick head. Cassidy gave the shaft one last long lick and looked up.
Cassidy’s voice dropped, rough. “We want you to fuck us.”
“Both of us,” Jax added.
Matt looked down at their flushed faces, lips shiny.
“I think I can manage that,” he grinned.
Cassidy scrambled across the bed, pulled a clear bottle from the nightstand drawer, and tossed it. Matt caught it against his chest. The thick silicone moved slow and smooth inside the plastic.
“Alright, boys. Let’s get the rest of this gear off.”
They made quick work of it—sneakers thumping against the floorboards, shorts kicked away, sweaty socks tossed aside.
Standing bare, Matt popped the cap with his thumb. “Who’s first?”
Jax answered by wriggling backward onto the mattress, shimmying up to the pillows and pulling his thick legs back, spreading himself wide.
“Good man,” Matt praised. He climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and settled on his knees between Jax’s thighs.
He poured a generous amount of lube into his palm and pushed two fingers into Jax’s tight heat. Jax gasped, hips jerking. Matt leaned in low, broad chest pressing against him, and kissed him deeply while he worked him open.
Beside them, Cassidy watched with dark, hungry eyes. One hand slowly stroked his own cock; the other rested flat on Matt’s back so he could feel the movement of muscle under skin.
“You’re built tight, Jax,” Matt murmured against his lips, adding a third finger and stretching him with a slow twist. “Gotta make sure everything’s ready.”
“Fuck, just put it in,” Jax begged, fingers twisting into the blond hair on Matt’s forearms. “I’m ready.”
Matt pulled his fingers free, slicked himself until his cock dripped, and shifted forward. He grabbed Jax’s right ankle and pinned the leg back. Cassidy leaned in to take the left, the two of them holding Jax completely open.
With a low grunt, Matt pushed in.
Jax’s compact body bowed off the mattress as the thickness forced its way inside. Matt took it slow, driving in with steady pressure until his thighs slapped flush against Jax’s ass.
“You don’t have to be careful,” Cassidy whispered, face inches from where Matt was stretching his husband. “He can take it.”
“Every inch,” Matt growled.
He withdrew and shoved back in. Then again. The heavy wood bed frame creaked as he hit his stride. Cassidy stayed right there on his hands and knees, tracking every shift in his husband’s flushed face while Matt fucked him.
“Look at you,” Cassidy murmured, voice thick with heat. “Look how good you’re taking him. Fuck, baby…”
Matt’s eyes ran over Cassidy’s long, lean body—the slope of his lower back, the tight curve of his ass. When Cassidy’s dark eyes ticked up to meet his, Matt’s grin slid into place.
“Your turn.”
Cassidy rolled onto his back and prepped himself with slick fingers, watching Matt finish a few more deep strokes in Jax. When Cassidy finally gasped out a desperate “Now,” Matt slid out, leaving Jax with a hollow, needy sound.
The cool morning air hit Matt’s wet cock for a fraction of a second. He shifted over on his knees, grabbed one of Cassidy’s ankles, pulled the long leg back, and shoved straight in, bottoming out into slick, yielding heat.
Chapter 4: Going the Distance
Jax scrambled up right beside them, eyes wide as he watched Matt’s thick thighs slap against his husband’s olive skin. He leaned over and captured Cassidy’s mouth in a messy, desperate kiss while Matt established a heavy, driving rhythm. Matt watched them swap spit, fueled by the sight of the married couple enjoying the hell out of each other while he did the heavy lifting.
They kept at it. The morning sun shifted across the hardwood floor, illuminating the architectural sketches taped to the wall.
The three of them cycled through a sweaty rotation of positions—Jax on his belly, Cassidy kneeling against the headboard, holding on as Matt pounded him. At one point Jax straddled Cassidy, cock to cock, so Matt could shift between one hole and then the other and back again—Jax tighter, more gripping, Cassidy longer and silkier, a different kind of drag. They had paused twice to pass a water bottle back and forth and drained it. The lube bottle had been opened more than once.
Matt’s internal clock knew exactly how much time they were burning, but he didn’t mention it.
Now he was flat on his back, broad chest heaving, thrusting straight up. Cassidy straddled his waist, long legs bent, bouncing on his cock with wet, rhythmic slaps.
“Fuck—you’re so deep like this,” Cassidy panted, head thrown back, dark hair plastered to his forehead. “Don’t stop—”
Jax was curled beside Matt’s head, making out with him and blindly stroking Matt’s chest while he stroked himself, full of the residual heat of having just been fucked, urging them both on.
Matt groaned into Jax’s mouth. The friction was finally catching up to him. His cock felt beautifully raw, aching with a desperate need for release. He was right on the edge.
It was time to finish the job.
Matt broke the kiss, reached up, and gripped Cassidy’s hips. He stopped the taller man’s bouncing and lifted him cleanly off his lap with a raw drag.
“Hold that thought, Cass.”
Cassidy let out a sharp, needy whine, but Matt was already moving. He grabbed Jax by the hips and dragged the shorter, muscled blond onto his back.
Matt pinned Jax’s thick thighs back against his chest and drove in with an aggressive thrust. He shifted his angle upward. The hard head of his cock struck the dense knot of nerves deep inside.
Jax let out a ragged, breathless moan. His toes curled, back arching hard off the sheets.
“Right there,” Jax sobbed, fingers clawing into the mattress. “Fuck, Matt—!”
Matt’s lip twitched. His voice came out low and firm.
“Jerk yourself. Now.”
Jax obeyed immediately, fist flying over his cock. Between his spread thighs the uncut head flushed a deep, bruised purple. It twitched frantically against his stomach and then burst, thick ropes of white cum splattering across his own chest and collarbones.
Matt gave him three more punishing thrusts to milk every last drop, then withdrew with a loud, sloppy sound.
He was moving fast now—a man with a mission and a ticking clock.
He grabbed Cassidy by the waist and dragged the taller man under him, not asking, just taking. Cassidy wrapped his long legs around Matt’s waist as Matt’s raw, aching cock drove straight in, sinking deep into slick, suffocating heat.
The sensation shattered what was left of Matt’s control. The drag inside Cassidy was different—longer, silkier, perfect—and it pulled at him on every stroke. His rhythm fractured. The thrusts became erratic, burying himself to the hilt and grinding as he frantically chased it.
“Right there—right there—” Cassidy croaked, hand a blur on his own cock under Matt’s weight.
The runner’s body tensed. His dark cock jerked rigidly and spilled over his fist in a messy fountain that painted them both.
Matt let out a booming, guttural groan. He couldn’t hold it back another second.
He pulled completely out of Cassidy, rising up on his knees. His chest heaved. His cock gleamed, pulsing and heavy in the open air, so hard it felt carved from stone. He wrapped a calloused fist around the base.
He stroked once. Twice.
He threw his head back, a loud roar tearing from his throat as he shot. The first hot rope landed across Cassidy’s ribs; the next splattered all the way up onto Jax’s chest. He pulsed again and again, his entire frame shaking as he emptied himself over the two of them.
Jax and Cassidy reached for each other, fingers interlocking, still breathing hard as they watched him finish.
Matt slouched back onto his haunches, still holding his cock, breathing like a racehorse, eyes squeezed shut in pure relief.
A second later he let himself drop backward, hitting the mattress with a heavy thud.
The two grad students immediately folded in on either side of him. Jax tucked into his right side, throwing a heavy thigh over Matt’s leg and resting his chin on his bicep. Cassidy curled into his left, pressing his sweaty face into the crook of Matt’s neck.
They lay there in a spent, tangled puppy puddle of sweaty limbs and heavy breathing. Jax leaned over Matt’s chest to press a soft, lingering kiss to his husband’s lips, then both of them settled back against the furry heat of Matt’s body.
Matt let out a long, deeply satisfied sigh, staring up at the ceiling. The heavy dopamine hit from the orgasm washed over him, completely wiping away the constant buzzing in his head and leaving him perfectly, quietly anchored to the mattress. He wiped his hand on his abs, smearing the lube and cooling cum.
“I’ll tell you what, boys,” he mumbled happily into the quiet room. “That is exactly how you finish a nine-mile run.”
Chapter 5: The Send-Off
"Thanks for the hospitality, boys," Matt rumbled warmly, a wholesome smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "And I appreciate the dry socks."
"Anytime you're in town, big dog," Jax breathed, his sharp eyes dragging over Matt's high, hard pecs one last time. "The door’s always open."
Jax offered a sleepy grin, while Cassidy raised a hand in a lazy wave.
Matt gave them a cheerful two-finger salute and bounded down the wooden porch steps.
He took a quick, efficient shower back at the Airbnb, washing away the sweat, lube, and the lingering scent of the grad students. By the time he walked into the bustling campus dining hall where the families had gathered for breakfast, he looked like the picture-perfect suburban dad in shorts and a light blue button-down shirt, untucked.
He was, however, a solid twenty minutes behind schedule.
Chloe tapped the screen of her phone as Matt slid into the wooden chair beside Erin. "Dad, you are literally twenty minutes late. We were about to send out a search party."
Erin didn't even look up from her coffee, completely unbothered. "Your father is just friendly, Chloe. 'Quick' means something entirely different in his vocabulary." Erin finally looked at Matt, an amused, perfectly arched eyebrow raised. "Let me guess. You found somebody's sagging porch steps to fix? Or a squeaky front gate?"
Matt’s mustache ticked up at the corners, a private flash of memory crossing his mind before he buried it. "Something like that."
He was in the absolute best of moods, completely relaxed and firing on all cylinders. "Hold that thought, hon. I need to go forage."
Matt pushed up from the table and grabbed a plastic tray, navigating the chaotic dining hall buffet lines. He hit the hot bar first, then hopped into the queue for the make-your-own omelet station, mouth watering, easily dwarfing the bleary-eyed, pajama-clad undergrad standing next to him.
He leaned over, giving the hungover kid an easy, booming chuckle. "Rough morning, partner? Don't worry, a solid breakfast fixes just about any damage."
The kid blinked, offering a weak, confused smile.
When it was his turn, Matt flashed his grin at the student working the flat-top grill. "I'll take the works, chief. And don't be afraid to test it. Let's see how much meat and cheese we can pack in there."
He returned to the table a few minutes later, balancing a loaded tray in one hand and two fresh mugs of steaming coffee in the other. He had a cherry pastry hanging casually from his mouth.
Ever the considerate husband and host, he gently set the fresh mugs down in front of Erin and Sarah with an easy wink, then dropped his heavily loaded tray onto the wood with a loud clatter. He took a massive bite of the pastry, chewing happily as he slid into his seat.
Matt ate like he had literally just run a marathon. He demolished his custom omelet and a side of thick-cut bacon.
After the first round, he inhaled deeply, the fabric of his button-down straining dutifully across his swollen chest and broad shoulders.
He reached for the syrup pitcher, generously drowning his stack of pancakes.
Across the table, Chloe watched him with a look of theatrical teenage disgust. "Oh my god, Dad. You're like half hummingbird with all that sugar."
Matt took the jab in gleeful stride, flashing her a wide grin as he carved off a dripping wedge of pancake. "Gotta fuel the machine, Chlo! It takes a lot of calories to keep this engine running."
Beside Chloe, Hayden sat quietly next to his mother, picking at the remains of a blueberry muffin. Every few seconds, the teenager's dark eyes would dart up, tracking the way the light blue cotton stretched taut over Matt's biceps, lingering on the thick, calloused hands holding the fork.
Whenever Matt caught him staring, Hayden would swallow hard and instantly drop his gaze, for a moment.
Matt just offered the kid an easy, knowing dad-wink and took a loud, crunchy bite of his bacon. He was a good looking kid, and Matt noticed how his dark hair curled up at the nape of his neck. Sharp too—watchful.
Caleb had done well for himself, locking in a good roommate.
Beside Hayden, Sarah was checking her phone screen. She let out a stressed sigh and started gathering her purse.
"I am so sorry to cut this short," Sarah apologized to the table, visibly anxious. "But if I don't leave for the airport right this second, I am never going to make it through security in time for my flight."
"Oh, you shouldn't risk it, Sarah, the lines are terrible on Sundays," Erin insisted immediately, her mom-instincts kicking in. She waved a dismissive hand at the scattered used plates and mugs. "Don't you worry about a thing. Go catch your flight. We’ll keep Hayden with us until we head out this afternoon."
Hayden blinked, looking up from his muffin. "Oh. Are you sure? I don't want to intrude."
"Nonsense," Erin smiled warmly. "You're Caleb's roommate, which means you're basically family."
Hayden glanced across the table, his dark eyes landing directly on Matt. "If you don't mind, Mr. D?"
Matt felt a hot flush in his cheeks, the way the kid’s eyes locked in on him.
He held up a finger, finishing off a crunchy bite of bacon as he regained his composure. He swallowed and flashed the teenager a wide, welcoming grin. "Matt,” he corrected. “And the more the merrier, Hayden. Like I always say, teamwork makes the dream work."
Sarah sighed, "That takes a huge weight off my shoulders, Erin. Thank you." She looked immensely relieved. She stood up, hugged Caleb, and then threw her arms around her son. She pressed her nose into his dark brown mullet, smelling the top of his head. "I love you. Make good choices."
"I will, Mom. Safe flight," Hayden mumbled.
Matt stood up to see her off, quickly wiping a smudge of syrup from his mustache with a napkin. He had to bend down to give her a quick hug, patting her back. "Safe travels, Sarah. We'll keep a close eye on the boys."
Once she had navigated her way out of the crowded dining hall, Matt sat back down. The wooden chair creaked under his weight.
He leaned back, entirely at peace. The memory of Jax and Cassidy was already tucked safely away, a thoroughly completed project left behind in that sunny bedroom.
What remained was family. The rest of the beautiful Sunday stretched out ahead of them. And lingering right across the table was the quiet, undeniable fact that Hayden was going to be with them until they left.
END, BOOK FOUR OF FIVE
Parents Weekend concludes with Book Five, to be published tomorrow, in which Matt tends to one last thing on his punchlist is Caleb and Hayden's dorm room.
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