She looks at the brace on my knee and the bruise on my face and the swell of my stomach and shakes her head. “He’s a bad man, Ashton. I make jokes when I’m nervous, but he’s a bad man. He and your mom have been together on and off my whole life. Even when he was with my mom. But it was only this past year that they became inseparable. And it was only after Kyrie was born, and the fights about her paternity became a regular thing, when I started putting the pieces of the puzzle together.”
“I never knew,” I admit quietly, still ashamed that so much of my life has been a lie and I had no clue.
“Master manipulators,” she murmurs. “Both of them. Thank God, when they got high, they got loud, or I don’t think I would have ever known.”
“Jamie said you tried to warn me,” I tell her, bits and pieces of him filling me in flash back in my mind like an old home movie. Shock and pain dulling the memories more than any pill ever could.
“I did. I called for weeks, but you never picked up. I had no idea where you lived or if you worked. When your mom talked about you... well, I thought you were a spoiled brat. I figuredyou were in some penthouse in the city. Although that house you’re in now is really nice, and your roommates are really pretty to look at.”
“That they are.” I run my hands over my belly. “And two of the three are fair game. So do with that what you will.”
“Thanks, but they’re not the ones I’d like a relationship with.”
“Oh . . .”Ohhh. . . “Wow. I . . .”
“Ohmygod... Please forget I said that. It was so lame. Too lame. Why would you want to be friends with the daughter of the man who kidnapped you? I can’t believe—just ignore me. Please. I mean, I’m glad you’re doing better. You’re okay. And maybe if it’s okay with you, I could keep in touch with Kyrie. But you and me... We...”
“Delaney,” I say firmly. “I’d like that too.”
“Really?” She smiles, and my heart settles.
“Yes. Really. But I should warn you, chaos follows me.”
Her eyes flash with excitement. “I should probably warn you I tend to manifest violence.”
I laugh, never having heard anyone else use that phrase.
“I think we’re going to get along just fine,” I tell her, unable to stop thinking that somehow, someway, Evan is who brought us together. I know it was a series of insane events, in all actuality. But in my heart, I know it was Evan.
ASHTON
I can’t rise from the ashes because I am the entire fucking fire.
—Ashton’s Secret Thoughts
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jamie asks as we park the car behind Nonna’s Eatery in downtown Kroydon Hills.
“Do I want to?” If I tell him I’d rather run screaming in the opposite direction, recently fractured kneecap and all, he’d probably carry me away. But that doesn’t help us. Time to pull up the big girl panties. “Not really, but your camp starts Monday, and I’m not sure I’ll ever actually want to do this. So we might as well get it over with.” I check my reflection in the mirror and wish I’d used heavier foundation to hide the bruise fading on my face a little better than I managed.
Oh well.
Too late now.
Everyone wanted to call my father while I was in the hospital, but I refused to let them, not nearly ready to deal with all the mixed emotions I have where he’s concerned. The father I grew up with, not the one who held a gun to my head. That one can rot in jail and according to Sabrina, most likely will for the rest of his life.
Jamie unbuckles Kyrie’s car seat from the back, then walks around to my door and takes my hand in his, pulling me from my thoughts. “You are so strong and so beautiful, and I love you so damn much, Ace.”
This man and this life are worth the price of dealing with my dad. Hands down, all day, every day, he’s worth it. “I love you too, charmer. Now let’s go make sure my dad doesn’t try to keep you off the ice.”
“Ashton . . .” he groans, and I giggle.
It might be forced, but getting myself back to some semblance of normal is going to take a little forcing. “I said that one on purpose. I might not know much about football, but come on. Even I know it’s played on a court, not on ice.”
“You’re still joking, right?”
I shrug and close the car door. I know it’s a field, but I’m not about to tell him that.
We walk inside the restaurant, hand in hand, and are shown to a private table at the back where my father already sits. He looks older than the last time I saw him. His dark brown hair is graying at his temples, and the wrinkles around his eyes are more pronounced than before. But he’s still my dad. The only one I’ll ever acknowledge, even if he no longer thinks of me as his daughter.
