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I tilt my face to Wells, flashing a taunting grin, my scruff brushing against Celeste’s forehead. “What happened to this being my day, Chief? You might want to take the baby. The kiss is the least of your worries. Wait till you hear what I’m going to do to my wife in those stables.”
“Jesus Christ,” he hisses as Ivy sidles up beside him.
“The stables already stink.” She shakes her head and scrunches her button nose, garnering a laugh from Celeste. “I’m all for spontaneity, but you’ll soil Lettie’s wedding dress, and it’s so pretty.”
It is pretty—off-white, lace, sparkly, elegant, and stately while hugging every curve. But my girl could wear a garbage bag and make it look good. Still, Celeste would be sad if we ruined it.
“Fair point, High Society,” I concede, bobbing my head.
That wasn’t the real plan anyway, but I’m impressed that my girl went along with it.
Anywhere. Anytime. Made for me.
“You still owe me a dance, Lettie,” Ty says, breezing up to us and coiling an arm around Celeste’s shoulders as he throws back the last sips of his rum and Coke. He’s got his celebratory game face on, but his eyes are fucking hollow. Not a good look for anyone, but that is especially true for Ty. Once his demons drag him down, it’s an all-out rescue mission to haul him back.
Before Celeste can accept, Wells takes over in his commanding Chief way, issuing silent orders to Ivy and me. “Actually, Celeste still owes me one too.”
“That’s perfect,” Ivy sings. “Felicity needs to eat anyway.”
“I could feed F-bomb, Freckles,” Ty bravely offers.
He latched on to that nickname after Gage sold him out, and he’s going full force with it. For fun, the rest of us occasionally drop it too, much to High Society’s dismay. Although her creased blue eyes betray the humor she finds in it.
Celeste is undistracted by the nickname detour and on the same wavelength as Wells, so she passes Felicity to Ivy and squeezes Ty’s arm. “Let Ivy take F-bomb,” she deadpans as Ivy giggles. Funny girl. “You need to wait with Liam, so when I’m done dancing with Wells, I don’t have to come looking for you.”
I hum, enjoying this little episode of family time but also eager to whisk my girl away. “And then you’re mine again, baby girl.”
“Can’t wait, husband.” She flashes me a coy grin that has me internally growling.
After Wells kisses his wife and daughter, he grips Celeste’s hand, utter pride written in his features for how she jumped in to afford me some time with Ty. He doesn’t just love my girl; he respects her. Appreciates how methodical, fierce, and loyal she is. Those qualities mean everything to the Chief. And I can’t deny that it means everything to me that he cares so deeply about her.
Once they all scatter, Ty lifts his empty glass. “I could use another. And you need one to toast. Never thought I’d see the day when Liam Graves took a wife.”
“That’s the truth.” I chuckle as we make our way to the bar. “Although I think you and Wells saw it coming long before I did.”
A cackle bursts out of him. “Facts. She had you by the balls from the start. You were a fucking mess.”
Christ, I couldn’t have designed a better segue if I’d given him a script.
“I was,” I admit, raising two fingers to the bartender, who already knows our order.
We have seven employees catering tonight. Wells strapped an electronic monitoring bracelet on each of them. If they wander more than fifty yards away from the party area, it alerts us. The man is brilliant.
With my Modelo in hand, I dip into my pocket, instantly recalling that I lost my Zippo a couple of days ago. Shit. This isn’t the kind of conversation to hold without a soothing snick to calm my nerves. But Wells hasn’t been getting anywhere with Ty, so I swig my beer and deal.
“If you hadn’t forced me to face my shit, I might have lost her,” I muse. “She’s mine because you fought for us.”
He glances over at me, touched but tortured. “Thanks, man. I don’t see it that way. But I appreciate it. I love you both.”
“I know you do,” I assure him as I lead us outside the tent so we can find a little privacy. Gage kicks his chin up to me on the way, well aware of the shit I’m about to plunge into. “You know,” I continue once we reach the moonlit grass, “you weren’t even there. It’s not your fault. They took it out on you because you were the one who walked into the house to distract them.”
That little pep talk is in reference to the Noires, who are livid that Rena was put in danger under our care. Ty was at home with them when the bomb went off at the dress shop, but after everything went down with the Skulls, we sent Ty inside when we returned home so we could clean up Celeste and Ivy. And the Noires fucking went off on him. Ty can shoulder just about anything.
Except being told he failed at protecting a woman.
He didn’t offer a single excuse. He simply took the blame for all of us.
And it broke him.
