“Why? Because she had your kid? You really think she’s gonna stick around, Con? She didn’t before. She didn’t give a fuck then. What makes you think she will this time?”
Kye grabs my arm as my fist swings back. “Whoa. Tate, out of line, man.”
“I’m just looking out for him.” Tate says it to Kye, but his eyes are fixed on mine. “The twins might be happy to watch her hurt you again, Con, but I ain’t gonna do it.”
He’s baiting me and I fucking know it. I’m shaking with anger, because fuck. No one gets to talk about Sofie that way. No. One.
“Pipe the hell down, dickhead,” Aidan says calmly, stepping between us and pushing Tate back. “Sofie’s the mother of that little girl you’ve spent the last few days on the beach with. Like Mom said, we don’t have to like her much right now, but we’ll respect her. That means even when she ain’t around. If you can’t talk civilly about her, don’t say a damn word.”
“Next time I won’t stop him,” Kye warns him. “I’ve got half a mind to let him at you now.”
“Don’t bother. I’m done.” I wrestle my arm out of his hold and storm out of the garage.
The door slams behind me with a bang that ricochets through the house. My blood is pumping furiously as I shove my way past Leila and through the back door. The glass pane in the door rattles, and I barely glance back to see if it stays intact.
It does, thankfully, and I wrap my hands around the top of the porch fence and lean forward. I take a deep breath, inhaling the saltiness of the sea air, the thing that’s always relaxed me.
But it doesn’t matter, because the only things that will relax me right now are ten minutes away, surrounded by a bunch of fucking nosy-ass vultures.
“Wow. Did you get your period?” Leila asks, stepping outside after me. “You cracked the glass in the door.”
I look over my shoulder. She’s right. A long crack snakes up the window from the bottom corner. “Fuck. I’ll replace it tomorrow.”
“Probably a good idea.” She leans her forearms on the fence next to me. “What did Tate do this time?”
I snort. “How’d you know it was him?”
“Uh, maybe because you two have always bitched at each other like a couple of kids in the sandbox? Maybe because he’s been on your case about Sofie ever since she got back? Maybe because he doesn’t give a flying crap if you want to make her happy?”
“It ain’t about that, Lei,” I breathe out. “It’s about doing what’s best for Mila. Sometimes I think we’re better off apart, but then, dammit, Sof goes and comes back with a snarky comment, or she smiles, or she laughs, and I can’t imagine being away from her again. I can’t imagine anything less than us being together being good for Mila.”
“You ever considered that it doesn’t have to be about Mila?”
“Of course it does. Whatever we do will affect her.”
“Well yeah, but you also have to think about what’s good for you two. Whatever’s best for you and Sofie will be best for Mila by default.”
I glance at her sideways. She makes sense, I’ll admit. If we’re happy, then Mila will be, too. That’s what it’s about, but maybe we are focusing on Mila too much. We’re just as important as she is.
If it came down to it, I’d pick Mila’s happiness over Sofie’s, every day. But if their happiness is intertwined, if it’s one and the same, then that’s another story.
“Why’d she really leave, Lei?” I ask softly, looking out at the waves crashing up the beach. “I don’t buy her story of it just being about Mila.”
“You keep askin’ me that, and I’m gonna keep telling you, I don’t know. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, Con. It ain’t my business.”
“You changed your tune.”
“I saw my brother and my best friend caught up in some love story that’s fucked up enough without my input.” She laughs. “You guys leave in ten days. That ain’t long. Y’all gotta sort it out, for all y’all’s sakes.”
I exhale slowly. I know that. I know we can’t stay in this arguing-kissing-fucking-arguing circle we got going on. It’s shying away from the truth.
The truth she’s hiding, and the truth that I’m afraid.
The truth that once again I’ll give this girl everything I have, and she’ll take it and she’ll run. Again.
Conner’s leaning in the doorway, his elbows resting against either side of the doorframe. I put my hand on my hip as he trawls his eyes down my body slowly, heating my skin as he goes.
“Can I help you?” I ask sweetly, drawing his attention back to my face.
“Depends,” he replies, his eyes finding mine. “Is Mila asleep?”
I shake my head.
“Then no, you can’t.” He stands up straight and walks past me.
I stare after him, one eyebrow cocked. Mila’s squeal follows his disappearance through the door, and “Hi, Dadda!” follows.
“Since when does she say hi?” he looks at me, holding her in his arms.
“Since this morning, apparently. She woke up saying it.” I shrug and collapse back onto the sofa, ignoring the mess on the carpet.
There are toys everywhere, crushed chips in the rug, and there may or may not be a cookie languishing beneath the sofa. Honestly, I’m afraid to look. The kid stashes things everywhere.
“Dadda sin?” Mila asks, scrambling to be put back down. She grabs her toy guitar and pushes the buttons. “Dum dum dum!”
Conner grins and perches on the sofa next to me. “Yeah, Dadda’s got a concert soon. Lots of them.”
“My like. Dum dum dum!”
I wince at the loud, monotone noises coming from the guitar. Damn, why did I ever let my brother buy that for her? Oh, yes, I had no choice. That’s why.
“Fuuu—rogs,” Conner corrects himself, rubbing his ear. “The hell kinda guitar is that?”
“Children’s toys are devices designed to torture parents into giving candy just for two minutes of peace.” I look at Mila bouncing around the room, somehow missing every toy. I wish I could do that. I sprain my ankles on toys nearly every day.
“Yeah, I’m figurin’ that out for myself. Hey, Mila! Want some candy?”
My jaw drops as my face snaps around to Conner.
“Candy? Yeah!” Mila quite literally throws the guitar to the carpet and clambers over to Conner.