They ambled out of the clubhouse, Rubi dressed in pink harem trousers and a Megadeath tee. Nash was in the process of buckling his belt, a plain crewneck already covering his torso, and his mussed hair and flushed cheeks made him look freshly fucked.
I wasn’t prepared for that imagery, not on top of the landslide of emotion I’d carried with me from Orla.
Fuck me, I couldn’t breathe.
Willow poked me. “I’ll get in the back.”
I licked my dry lips. “Okay.”
A second later, Nash joined her, leaving me with Rubi’s excitable company. “Locktipuss.” He turned to face Willow. “Locktipuss Junior. Everyone prepared? Cash? Charging banks? What Three Words for when Nashie gets lost?”
Nash put his fist to Rubi’s face and pushed.
Rubi didn’t give a single shit and I realised he was entirely serious.
“That a thing? Do we need to write phone numbers on his arms?”
Rubi shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. Found him naked on the beach after the summer fest a few years ago.”
“Tenyears ago.” Nash produced a bag of Haribo, palmed a handful, and passed them to Willow. “And I was only naked because you stole my clothes.”
“The weed was strong that year,” Rubi mused before he remembered Willow wide-eying the exchange from the back. “Oops. Sorry, Locktipuss. We’ll behave, honest.”
“No need. I’m not your dad.”
“You’re definitely Nash’s daddy, though—hey, stop fucking hitting me. You’re ruining my yoga buzz.”
“Behave then,” Nash growled.
Rubi shot him a sour frown but reined it in, turning his attention to the radio.
Nash settled back in his seat and unzipped Willow’s guitar case. Then he spent the entire journey jamming and singing with my daughter and I could’ve fuckin’ died, I loved him so much.
Rubi had joined in by the time we reached the festival. He didn’t play guitar, but he sang like a rock star too. Man, these gangster motherfuckers were talented.
Sea Rave Winter Fest was hosted at an old corn exchange. The parking was a muddy field half a mile away and the sky had already turned moody and damp with the incoming rain. “Wills, leave your guitar.”
“Do I have to? I want to busk later.”
“I’ll fetch it,” Rubi volunteered. “And I’ll put it back when you’re done. Ain’t no point lugging it around all day.”
Willow conceded. We left the guitar behind and trekked through the fields to the event gates.
Ranger, Mateo, and Saint were already there. Saint, I’d expected, but I cast the other two a sceptical glance. Ranger hated guitar music, and I had it on good authority that Mateo wasn’t a fan either.
Mateo shrugged in response to my silent question. “There’s a DnB tent. Besides, chasing your teenager around is good practice for me. Lili ain’t gonna be eleven forever.”
Rubi sniffed and turned away.
Nash winced and rubbed his back, but Mateo didn’t seem to notice the effect his words had on his brother, and the moment passed.
We reached the gates. Decoy and Folk waited for us, minus Ivy who was spending the night at Camp O’Brian.
Willow jumped on Folk. I took a moment to check in with Nash. “Okay?”
He grinned, though his gaze was too busy scanning our surroundings to land on me for long. “Your kid is my jam. I wish I’d had mates like her when I was that age.”
“What were your mates like?”
