“I’m not. You should just tell Mum you’re poly. It’s not like she doesn’t know you’re bi already, and Nash is totally her type. If anything, she’ll be jealous.”
I did not have the infrastructure for this conversation right now. I got up to pay the bill, leaving Willow and Nicky to bicker over who had the biggest mouth.
At the till, I passed some cash to the server and waited for change solely to buy myself a fuckin’ minute. To slow my spinning head as I gripped the counter, letting it happen. This shit was nothing new. Course it wasn’t. How many times had I taken my kids for cheap burgers after a kicking from Priest?
Too many to count, but I guess I was out of practice. Soft from living among people who didn’t keep me alive for their entertainment. Also, I’d never done it on the back of committing murder, and despite so many people willing to prop me up, honest to fuck, I’d never felt so unstable.
My ear buzzed again. I huffed out a breath, took my change, and turned away from the counter, checking in on Orla’s car as I made my way back to the table.
It was parked next to Willow’s, and I’d come alone. But I sensed brothers close by like I had every second since I’d hauled Viktor through the compound gates, and I latched on to that feeling as I led my kids outside.
“We have you, Mishka.”
Willow was going her own way.
I opened her car door, seeing her safely behind the wheel. “Straight to Maddie’s house. Don’t go anywhere else.”
“Dad, I’m eighteen next week.”
“And you’re seventeen this week.” I stooped my aching body to kiss her cheek. “Do as you’re told just a little bit longer, eh?”
She pulled a face that made her look twelve years old again, and emotion I wasn’t prepared for choked me up.
I shut the door and tapped the roof. Then I stoodwayback and watched her reverse out of her space and disappear into the night, catching the distant rumble of the bike that followed her, forcing myself to trust that it was Saint and not some other cunt wanting to hurt her because she’d been born with the misfortune of being mine.
Nicky was already in the Toyota, kicked back in the leather front seat, playing a game on his phone.
I slid behind the wheel and started the engine, straining my ears for more bikes. But I heard nothing, and I couldn’t tell if it was my fucked up ear letting me down, or the weirdness in my head.
“You might feel underwater for a while.”
Embry had told me that and I’d brushed him off. I think. The past few days had been foggy, my mental energy at an all-time low. I didn’t feel underwater as much as completely cut off from anything that wasn’t being present for my kids.
“Why are we still here?”
Or not. I snapped out of it, mussed Nicky’s hair, and snapped a deliberately angled photo to send to Logan when he got up in my business later. “Sorry. I’ll take you home now.”
Ever the conversationalist, Nicky just grunted and buried his face in his phone again while I drove him back to Kara’s place, grateful that Orla’s car was a dream to drive and I could hold my sliced-up arm to my torso. My hand was working fine—luck, apparently—but raising my arm could fuck the fuck off.
I walked Nicky to the door out of habit.
Kara caught me before I could make my escape. “It’s parents’ day at the college next Saturday. Can you go?”
“Probably.”
“Could you give me a straight answer for once? I’ll have to change my shift at work if you’re unavailable.”
“I’m available.”
“Good. Did you get my email?”
Yes and no. It had landed in my inbox and someone had read it, but the contents remained a mystery to me. “I’ve been busy, Kay. Was it important?”
“Of course it was. You think I’d waste my time sending you e-cards and memes?”
“No, but you’ve sent me chapter and verse on plenty of other bullshit before and I don’t have time for that right now.”
“Because you’re seeing someone?”
