Page 69 of The Heartbreaker Next Door

“Ten-four.”

I hung up and called Felicity. She answered on the first ring. “Dean?”

“They’re at the arcade,” I told her. “I’ll be at your place in five. Be ready out front.”

She exhaled, half a laugh, half disbelief. “Good. Okay. Thank you.”

I could hear her voice shaking, even as she tried to keep it light for my benefit. I wanted to reach through the phone, pull her into my arms, and tell her it would all be okay.

As soon as the call disconnected, I called Donovan back to update him. He told me he would be around if we needed backup. He also reminded me of the definition of assault and what those charges would do to my life. I appreciated my friend’s reminder, but he had nothing to worry about. I might think Tanner was an asshole, but he was still Maverick’s father. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt that kid, and if I hurt his dad, that’s exactly what would happen.

When I pulled up, she was already outside, arms wrapped around herself, hair loose and wild from the wind. She got in without a word, except for a whispered “thanks,” and buckled her seatbelt with trembling hands.

“Damon’s watching Maverick,” I explained as we drove. “He’ll keep an eye on them until we arrive.”

She nodded, jaw tight. “I just…I can’t believe he’d…” She broke off, shaking her head in frustration. “No, that’s a lie. I can one hundred percent believe it. I just hoped… I wanted Maverick to have one normal visit.”

“He will,” I assured her, and meant it.

The arcade was on the pier. I made it to downtown in less than five minutes and parked directly in front, ignoring the “patrons only” sign, and scanned for Damon’s car. He was parked half a block down, pretending to read a newspaper. Because Damon never did subtle.

Felicity hesitated before getting out of the truck. “I don’t want to make a scene,” she said, clearly concerned I was going to go in there and lose my shit. “Especially in front of Maverick.”

“Then we won’t,” I stated as if it were that simple.

She nodded once, and we headed into the arcade.

Inside was all neon and noise, chiptune music, the beeping of old-school pinball, and the yeasty smell of pizza from the snack counter. I spotted Maverick first. He was kneeling on the stool in front of a vintage Donkey Kong game, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. Tanner stood behind him, arms crossed and face lit up by the screen’s blue glow. I recognized the posture—lazy, careless, and just a little bored. He was wearing one of those ironic t-shirts that only truly unfunny people thought were hilarious.

We were halfway across the carpet before Tanner noticed us. “Hey,” he said, forced brightness in his voice. “Wasn’t expecting you!”

“I bet you were,” Felicity said brightly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noted Damon walk in.

Maverick spun around at the sound of his mom’s voice. His whole face lit up, like Felicity arriving was the best possible surprise. “Mom! Look! I beat the high score!”

“Good job.” She walked over, hugged him so tight he squeaked, then turned to Tanner. “You missed pickup. You didn’t answer your phone.”

He looked at her blankly, then patted his jeans with exaggerated confusion, before pulling out his phone and looking down at the screen. “Oh, shit. I think it died. Must’ve lost track of time. Mav was having so much fun, I figured we’d just keep going until you called.”

I could practically feel Felicity’s hope snap. In her eyes, he was confirming every worst-case scenario, that he wasn’t changed, wasn’t responsible, wasn’t safe. She knelt to Maverick’s level. “Why don’t you grab your backpack, Bud? We need to go?”

Maverick frowned. “But I didn’t get my ice cream yet.”

There was a pause, and I could see Felicity calculating, stick to her guns, or let her son have his ice cream and pretend the situation was normal. She hugged him again. “We’ll get ice cream at the fundraiser. Say goodbye to your dad.”

Tanner watched this exchange with the detached amusement of someone who believed parenthood was a series of sitcom mishaps. “Fuck, Felicity. It’s not like I kidnapped him. I’m his dad, we were just playing games.”

She stood up, back stiff. “That’s not the point. You said you’d bring him home at two.”

He rolled his eyes. “God, you’re still so uptight. No wonder you can’t keep a man⁠—”

I stepped between them. Not a threat, just a presence, and I instructed him, “Stop talking.”

He stood taller, his chest puffing out. “Or what?”

A small grin lifted at the corner of my lips. “I would love for you to find out.” I was really hoping this asshole would give me a reason. I wasn’t a violent man, but my fist was currently re-evaluating that stance.