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“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” he sneers. “I’m fine.”
“Are you?” I scoff. “You’re not harboring any animosity or guilt over Rena not being allowed near us without their watchful eye? ’Cause it looks to me like we’re headed into that dark place you go.”
His eyes close on a breath before he drains half his cocktail in a single gulp.
Dragging my hand down my face, I let a groan rip from my chest, wishing I had that goddamn Zippo. “They’re being fucking hypocritical, Ty. Ivy was roofied at their establishment after they assured us that everyone had been vetted. That asshole would have killed her. But we never gave them shit about that. It sucks that Rena was caught up in that godawful day, but we kept her safe. And again, you weren’t even fucking there. This will blow over.”
His face is cloaked in the shadows of nightfall, but his grief shines freely as he flings his hand through the air. “None of that matters. They’re right. I’m not pissed at them. She’s their top priority, as it should be. I’d despise them if they were anything other than outraged.” He huffs a breath, head shaking in disbelief as he raises his drink, pausing before a swill. “Their relationship is even more significant than her being their little sister. Axel and Ryker raised her. So, fast-forward twenty-some years and drop Felicity into that scenario.”
Well, that’s some shit. Talk about a bomb. I’d be murderous.
“Okay, fuck.” I stroke my forehead, desperately trying to wipe away the harrowing images of our little princess in danger. “Yeah. I get that. But it’s still—”
“It’s nothing,” he cuts me off, appearing so unlike the man he’s tried so hard to become. “They said I was … my life, our life … was too dangerous for her to be wrapped up in. And they aren’t wrong. They asked us to respectfully pull back. So, we fucking will.”
I sip my Modelo, trying to center myself before I refute his absurd assessment of this situation. “Maybe I could go along with that if (a) I didn’t love that girl enough to know I’d take a bullet for her in a heartbeat. We all would. Which means we are as safe as it comes in her universe whether they fucking like it or not. Because (b) they have so many enemies, threats, and people after them that they can’t even let her date, and she’s twenty-three years old. They aren’t completely wrong for doing that either, but it’s still an asinine solution. You haven’t even dug into that book. We are not who they should be focusing on. If anything, they need us more than ever.”
“And I won’t be digging into it,” he insists.
“Doubt that,” I counter. “Wells already set up a meeting. It affects all of us and involves Balzano. No way will Wells or Ivy let you sit this out.”
He swallows the remainder of his drink in a hefty chug, his empty eyes planted somewhere in the distance. “They will because I have never requested to be left out of something before. But I need this now. I can’t be aware of something coming after that family when I’ve been asked to …”
An incredulous exhale tumbles from my lungs but also an enlightened one. “Well, that brings me to a third reason I can’t condone the idea of us pulling back from that family. Because the whole concept of stepping away from them—or her—is ripping you to shreds.”
“Fuck, man.” His head lolls back, and I know I’ve struck a chord. But that’s all I’m getting because the guy is inwardly reeling and barely hanging on. “This is your night. Lettie’s night. Can we not do this?”
Ty should know as well as anyone, when one of us is broken, we’re all broken. But tonight probably isn’t the time to dive deeper into this.
I smack his back and drag him into a hug. “It’s our night—yours too—because, as I said, you fought for us. We love you, Ty. I’ll let it go for now, but don’t fucking shut us out.”
He nods against me, but says nothing. I haven’t seen Ty this broken since we were in the Middle East, and that was … not something I can even describe. Not that he’s at that desperate stage yet. But it certainly explains why Wells wouldn’t let him join me in slaughtering Easton.
After we took out the Skulls, I informed the guys that Easton was with Celeste when she was underage. Since Ty’s sisters were sexually abused, that hit a sore spot with him, so I thought maybe it would be cathartic to expel some of his pent-up rage on the asshole. But the Chief called it. It probably would have only exacerbated whatever the hell’s going on with him.
Without another word about it, I release him and swagger back inside the tented area to find the three girls—Celeste, Ivy, and Rena—on the dance floor. Not even Ty’s sour mood can stay intact at the sight. They’re jamming to a Taylor Swift song. Like they’re in a ’90s mosh pit. I think it’s “I Did Something Bad.” Befitting all three of the hellions.
A sharp cackle spills out of me as I strut toward my beautiful brat. But Gage, seeing my intended target, swoops in and hoists Celeste into the air, tossing her about like a ragdoll. She lets out a shriek of surprise and joy, so I give them their moment and turn my attention to her parents, who are also taking in the scene. I haven’t had any time alone with either of them yet.
After a quick, stuffy, well-mannered kiss on Ava’s cheek, I shake Frank’s hand. I can do the upper-crust shit as well as anyone. “Thank you both for showing up on such short notice and celebrating with Celeste and me.”
Frank dips his chin. “Our pleasure. You did well, son. It isn’t the life we wanted for her, but you took care of her far better than I could have hoped.”
By that, he’s referring to the way I manipulated the loyalty test. The day I brought Celeste home to them, I informed him of my reasoning for pissing him off with the hot yoga phone call. When I explained that and vowed to him that I had a contingency plan to get her out should things go south, the man nearly broke down.
Loyalty tests are rough. Sometimes, the actual test is life-threatening. And even if it isn’t, not everyone passes. Frank might not have KORT-level clearance, but his position within the organization has given him an in-depth view of the horrors of failing. It makes sense that he was frantic for his daughter’s safety. I was never bothered by his concern. It was the notion that I would let anything happen to her that irked me. But with the visual that Ty planted about Felicity, I suppose I get it.
“And I always will take care of her,” I assure him before addressing Ava since Celeste relayed her mother’s warning. “Your daughter is my whole world. She will always come first. The rest of my family feels the same way.”
“Thank you,” she says, glancing toward our entire crew, howling and dancing like idiots. “I can see that.”
Her brown eyes brim with tears. Celeste definitely favors her mother appearance-wise. But I hope the brokenness that swirls inside those eyes never transfers to my wife.
My relationship with Frank won’t ever be what Wells had with Tom. And I don’t anticipate Ava growing as close with us as Natasha. Ivy’s parents never saw us as a threat in her life. Tom viewed us as her saviors—or at the very least her safety net. And Natasha respects us more each day. No matter how much trust the Carvers place in us, that will never be their viewpoint. But Celeste and I have both accepted that.
Once I notice Ty is dancing with Celeste while the rest of my family is still immersed in celebration, I politely excuse myself. But only a half hour passes before I get too antsy for some alone time with my girl.
Throwing her back in the fancy golf cart, I hurtle us toward the garage. She laughs the whole ride, and we’re only going about fourteen miles per hour over the bumpy terrain. I’ve got something far more hair-raising in store.
