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She holds my gaze fiercely with her dark eyes. “Dad.”
Jesus. And… “Mary.”
She bites her lip, but I see that quick smile before it disappears. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Why not?” I step closer, open my arms, and she comes to me. My little girl. I ruffle her hair, and she grumbles, but she lets me hold her for a few precious moments before pulling back. “What’s up, little lady? What’s on your mind? Why are you avoiding us, me and Octavia?”
“I’m not avoiding you,” she says, but she’s a terrible liar. This girl has never been an open book, but since she was little she wore her worry on her face disguised as anger. She’d lash out and glare instead of cry.
Takes after her father in this, I guess. It took Octavia to bring us both out of our protective shells.
“Who have you been texting with, then? At least tell me as much. If it is a boyfriend, I swear I’ll keep an open mind, give him a chance to state his case.”
She finally laughs, and God I missed the sound. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
A boy, then. Filing that away for further discussion, I try again.
“Talk to me, baby girl. I can’t go chasing after you in the cold every time something is wrong. My old bones hurt.”
“You’re not old,” she says.
“That’s not the point.”
She sighs. “Everything’s fine, Dad. I promise. And it’s not that cold.”
“Don’t promise. Don’t…” I huff, rake my hand through my hair. It needs a cut, badly. Been too busy lately to go get it done. “Something is bothering you. I want… the best for you, and your brother. For all of us. I’m not an easy guy to get along with, and not the best father, but I fucking love you with all my heart. I hope you can come to me with—”
She slams into me, wrapping her thin arms around my back, burying her face in my chest. “It’s not you, Daddy.”
I draw a sharp breath. She hasn’t called me that—Daddy—in what feels like years. Maybe it is years. “Okay. Is it Octavia?”
She shakes her head against my sweater.
Pulling her against me, stroking her hair, I frown at the gray morning. I can’t help noticing she hasn’t replied to my question. Something’s hurting her, and I can’t fight it without knowing what it is.
If it’s not something we did, then what?
* * *
Mary disappears again before I can properly say goodbye, and I know I need to take my time to sit her down and talk to her until she opens up and tells me what’s bothering her.
But meanwhile, we have a trip to prepare for.
After placing Octavia’s suitcase beside my duffel bag in the back seat, I help her up to the truck, into the passenger seat. My hands linger on her, as does her gaze on me. She smooths a hand over her belly and God, I love the slight swell.
“Ready?” she asks, reaching out to touch my face, and I don’t know what to say.
Ready to see the wreck of Evan’s life? To see Destiny, where I swam through darkness until I found her, where a psychopath kidnapped my kids, and the
n her, almost killing her? Where her asshole father and sadistic half-brother live?
Not sure, but I don’t have a fucking choice.
“I’m ready,” I reply evenly, and turn my face to kiss her palm. “Buckle up, sweets. Time to hit the road.”
Her fingers tangle in my short beard, tugging my face closer. “Stop worrying so much. It’ll be okay.”
“Yeah,” I say gruffly, and lean in to kiss her. “I know.”
