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nk your old man deserves you wantin’ to save him. I don’t think he deserves you fixin’ his problems for him either.”
As he spoke, I remembered everything he’d told me about his own father, and my heart clenched. Darting a quick glance toward Bishop, I rose from the couch and approached Kace, wrapping my arms around him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, all muscle and sinew, violence and rage—but it struck me suddenly that nothing about him frightened me anymore.
I felt small and delicate next to him, soft and imminently breakable.
But I knew, in the same way I knew gravity existed, that this boy would never hurt me.
His muscles tightened, then relaxed under my touch, and I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart beating in my ear.
“What you did for me, Kace—what you all did—it was more than anyone has a right to ask for. You killed someone to protect me, and that’s a debt I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay.”
“Doesn’t need repayin’, Princess,” he grunted, his strong arms coming around me as if he couldn’t stop himself. As if it was an instinctual reaction to my presence by now.
I tilted my head a little, craning my neck to look up into his eyes. “I know. But I’ll try for the rest of my life anyway.” Then I pulled back just a little my fingertips splaying over the strong lines of his shoulders. “You told me you look out for people you love, Kace. Even when it’s dangerous. Even when it doesn’t make sense. Even when it defies logic and reason.”
He nodded slowly, his light green gaze burning into mine.
“Well,” I said softly, “I told you I understand. And I really do. Because that’s how I feel about this. I know it doesn’t make sense. I know it could be dangerous, and there’s no guarantee it’ll even work out. But for as flawed a person as my dad is, he’s still my dad. And I love him.”
Something flashed across Kace’s expression at my words, and I couldn’t quite tell what it was—whether it came from a good thought or a bad one. He tightened his grip on me, palming my head and pressing my cheek to his chest again, like he was trying to both lend me strength and borrow it.
Beneath my ear, I heard the rhythm of his heart shift, thudding harder and faster.
“I don’t like it,” he said again. “But if this is what you want, if it’s what you need… There’s no fuckin’ way you’re doin’ it alone.”
A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding fell from my lips.
It was done. I had told them; they all knew.
And I wasn’t alone in this anymore.
Eighteen
All three boys had agreed to help me, but I wasn’t quite sure what that meant.
Honestly, I thought that they might drag their feet on things with my father. It was still winter break, and between homework and their jobs for Nathaniel, they had their own heavy workloads to get through.
I was just glad that they all finally knew and had agreed to allow me to keep digging. Despite my bluster with Bish, I knew that if he really wanted to, he could stop me—or at least make things painfully difficult for me. The boys outnumbered me, they were bigger than me, and if they decided to physically restrain me from leaving the house, I wouldn’t be going anywhere.
It was a massive relief that they all seemed to understand my reasons for wanting to look into my dad’s arrest, as misguided as they thought my sympathy was. If I had needed tangible proof that their feelings for me were as strong as mine were becoming for them, this was about the most solid evidence I could get.
They were putting aside their old grudges—the anger against my father that had brought them into my orbit in the first place—to help me.
Because it was important to me.
Because they wanted to protect me.
I didn’t exactly expect them to be champing at the bit to get started though, so when the boys came home a few days before school was supposed to start up again, saying they’d found a lead on my father, I was honestly surprised.
“So, we’ve got some news about your old man, or at least a place to start getting actual information about him,” Bishop said, shrugging off the leather jacket he was wearing.
It took me a moment to register what he’d said, and when I did, I blinked.
“You—wait, what?”
He cocked his head at me, amusement gleaming in his eyes. His lip quirked. “We may have a meeting with an information broker who has a lead about your father.”
I felt several things at once—but mainly a rush of gratitude at the fact they had committed to helping me, and a thrill of excitement that their help had produced a possible lead so quickly. On my own, without the connections they had, I might’ve spent months or even years poking around in all the wrong places, turning up nothing useful.
