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Clay had turned slowly and looked at him, before glancing over his shoulder at where Gavin was saying good-bye to Colin.
“That so?” he’d drawled.
Trace had nodded, swallowing heavily to disguise his nerves. “Yes, sir. Please?” he’d added, losing his bravado as Clay had continued to stare at him. He had only met his godfather a handful of times and none of those times had been in the last four years.
Clay hadn’t said a thing, just walked past Trace up to Gavin who’d stared at the larger man, his shoulders back. Clay was taller than Gavin by a few inches and with far more muscle, but Trace knew the boy would take on the man if he had to.
“Are you, Gavin?” Clay asked, coming to a stop, staring at the boy.
“Yes,” Gavin replied. “You’re their godfather?”
Clay nodded.
“Took you long enough to get here,” Gavin told him. Trace sucked in a breath, certain Clay would hit back, but he just stood there calmly. “They don’t belong here. They’re easy pickings.”
“Really? They seem in okay shape.”
“Because Gavin looked after us,” Colin had told him bravely. Both Gavin and Trace had glared at him to keep him quiet, Gavin even tugging the smaller boy behind him.
Clay raised a brow. “That so? And you?” he’d asked Gavin. “Do you belong here?”
Gavin shrugged. “Not like anyone wants me,” he’d said matter-of-factly.
Clay had nodded and turned. Disappointment almost made Trace sick. Then the big man had called back over his shoulder, “Grab your stuff, Gavin.”
“What?” Gavin asked.
“You’re coming home with us. Hurry up, now while I call the social worker. Damn, I hate paperwork.”
“Why?” Gavin had asked.
Clay turned, looking at him. “Because I want you. Now get moving.”
Trace looked over at present-day Gavin. He’d always kept a part of himself separate from everyone but his family, he didn’t let others close. But Trace knew that Lila was the one person that could bring the big guy to his knees.
“Do you think she hit her head?” Gavin asked Trace, looking up at him.
Trace stared down at Lila. She was pale, too pale. “I don’t know. There’s no blood. She seemed to just faint.”
A low groan came from Lila as she tried to move. They held her still as she opened her eyes, peering up at them. Trace let out a low sigh.
“Trace? Gavin?” she asked groggily. “What are you guys doing in my room?”
Trace ran his hand over her head as Gavin took her pulse. He felt sick with relief. Damn, she’d scared him. She was so tiny, so delicate that at times it terrified him. Especially when she was ill or hurt.
He brushed back her dark, corkscrew curls, wishing her smooth skin held more color.
“You’re not in your room, honey,” he told her. “You’re by the lake, you fainted.”
Was she ill? Was there something seriously wrong with her? Worry made him almost light-headed as he continued to run his hand over her silken hair. First his parents had died, then Clay, he wasn’t about to let anything happen to the most important person in his life. Even if that meant wrapping her in cotton wool and locking her in her bedroom until she was eighty.
He smiled slightly at the thought. He could just imagine her reaction if he tried to do just that. Their kitten had claws when she was riled.
“I did?” she asked with surprise. “I’ve never fainted before.” She frowned. “I fell asleep. When I woke up I saw the time and realized I was running really late. I must have stood up too quickly or something.”
She moved, attempting to sit up. Trace and Gavin reached for her at the same time, holding her down.
“Just where do you think you’re going?” Gavin barked. The more worried he grew, the gruffer he got. Trace knew most people thought him bad-tempered and gave him a wide berth, something that didn’t bother Gavin in the slightest. But when someone he loved was at risk Gavin could be like a bear with a sore paw.
