He glanced beyond me.
I gripped his arm. “She’s fine. There’s five brothers still in there.”
Locke relaxed and preceded me outside. Under the stars, he lit his cigarette and rubbed the base of his spine while I dug in my pockets for mine, then changed my mind, knowing he’d share. “My boy got suspended again today.”
“Nicky?”
“That’s the one.” Dryness laced Locke’s pissed-off tone. “Little shit.”
“How old is he?” On a good day, I knew, but my bandwidth was maxed out.
“Thirteen,” Locke supplied. “So he’s on the turn. If he doesn’t get his shit together, he’ll end up like me.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
Locke slid me a flat look.
“I’m serious.” I claimed his half-smoked cigarette and took a deep and welcome inhale. “You’re a firefighter—”
“Wasa firefighter.”
“For ten fucking years. Don’t tell me that doesn’t mean anything to you.”
“It doesn’t mean anything to him. He was three when I quit. He’s only ever known me as a deadbeat idiot. That’s why he gives zero fucks when I try and tell him what to do.”
“You’re not a deadbeat anything.” It was a fight to keep the fire out of my voice, but the trouble was, I knew better than anyone where this was coming from. “You’re a survivor, brother.”
Locke grunted and took the cigarette back. “I’m the dickhead who never turned up and paid his way. That’s what his mum thinks, and she isn’t fuckin’ wrong.”
It wasn’t your fault. But as the words bubbled up my throat, Locke’s phone buzzed again.
He glanced at the screen, and some of the stress in him eased. He replied to a message with a faint grin.
“Logan?” I guessed.
“Nah. Remy.”
That made me smile too. I remembered Locke’s brother-in-law. Remy was hands down the most ethereally beautiful man I’d ever seen, and I lived in the company of beautiful men.
Not that I really noticed. The only bloke to ever truly turn my head was standing right in front of me. “Tell Remy I said hi.”
Locke kept typing. “Done.”
“What are you going to do about Nicky?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, Daddy Locke. You’re better at this parenting shit than you think you are.”
“Don’t blow smoke up my arse. I know what I am.”
Did he, though? Locke was an easy dude to be around. Funny, warm, adaptable. But sometimes there was a heaviness in him that nothing seemed to shift.
Guilt.
Regret.
Trauma.
