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And neither did Thomas Stack when I paid him a visit back in May.

“I saw him, you know?”

“When?”

“On our stop in Long Island. He drove to meet me. Him and his two-year-old daughter.”

“So you’re not an only child after all.”

More studying, then Kota says, “I loved her. Cadie May. She was sweet. I’m glad I met her.”

Me, too. The look on her face right now was worth the trek to Jersey.

“And your dad? How was he?”

“Very, very, very, very, very…concerned.”

“With?”

“Me accepting his apology.”

My threat of breaking every bone in his body worked then. Good.

“Did you?”

“Um…” She thinks on it for several seconds before saying, “I need to pee.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” Still drunk. Got it.

I grab her thighs so I can move her to the toilet. I did watch her projectile vomit. I guess I can be in here when she pisses, too.

“What are you doing? Get out.”

I smirk and step back. Seems bossy to me.

All Guy had to do was pull his head out of his own ass and he would’ve seen that for himself.

While she does that, I go down to the pantry to grab a couple of waters. On my way back upstairs, my phone dings with a text.

My steps slow as I read it.

Light heavyweight. One a.m. Three K.

That’s a lot of money. It’d be stupid to turn it down, especially after walking away from the bonfire empty-handed.

But…

I look down at the glass bottles in my hold.

She won’t need me once she’s asleep.

That both relieves and saddens me.

Kota’s already in bed when I return, buried under the covers, I assume sleeping until I hear, “Call Guy Humphries.”

“Why would I—”

A virtual voice says, “Calling Guy Humphries cell.”