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How could she be so sure? I peered out her floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a perfect spring morning in the city. The sun was shining. The gray buildings appeared less dull. I glanced down at myself, engulfed in light. Shouldn't this feel…good? Yet, all there was, was a bone-chilling cold, as if the sky was covered in clouds. "Why?"
A hand rubbed circles between my shoulder blades. "Lilly fucked up. I have your back on that. No questions asked." The rubbing stopped for a second. When it started back up, she went on, "But she is also right on one thing: King is not Gray. Our parents' actions don't define us unless we let them."
I glanced sideways at her. "Our?"
Den diverted. "From what you told me, she is nothing like her father, but everything like her mother." She cocked her head. I was still hung up on the"our" but let it slide. Something told me she was not just referring to the current topic.
"What am I supposed to say to her?" I needed help.
She shrugged. "Ask her how the baby is doing, how she's feeling. Start small. It's the right thing to do."
Fuck.
It tookme two more days to work up the courage to send her a text.Start small.All that went out the window when she let the gender slip. It was clear she didn't mean to when she answered my call.
As soon as I heard her voice, my pulse started to race, and my hands became clammy. I wanted to hate her, hate her for who she was and that she ran, but at the same time, I couldn't. In the short time we spent together, she had become an irreplaceable part of my life. Little did I know back then how big of a part she would be. We would have a daughter together.
During one of our conversations—and there were many over the few days I spent in New York—Den metaphorically backhanded me by saying, "You didn't give her a chance to tell you her side. You could've told this Kiwi dude or her roommate that you needed to get in touch with her."
I was still convinced that something else was driving her sudden interest in pushing me toward King, but D wouldn't give anything away. She either dodged me or simply ignored me.
She also declared that I would have to be sober from now on. No one would want a drunk for a father. Another slap in the face. She was right, though. I had let my circumstances become an excuse to drink myself into oblivion—either to forget or to not care that I wanted King…wanted her with every fiber of my being. Because when I was sober, I didn't allow myself to go there. Which was how I asked her to meet me to talk about logistics. Lo-fucking-gistics. As if my daughter was a shipment. Jesus, I almost asked D to punch me after that.
In the end,Lilly punished me in a different manner, by making King her bodyguard's date.
My fingers curl inward again as I watch D stare out the oval window into the dark. We took off after a two-hour delay and wouldn't be landing in Montana until eight.
Just as the wheels touch down, my phone lights up.
Rhys: We're at The Grizz.
"What the fuck?"
Den quirks an eyebrow at me, and I turn the screen toward her. I can't read her; she simply nods.
My car is waiting for us in the long-term parking lot, as usual, and we drive straight to King's former place of employment. The former quickly gets scratched when we walk in, and my eyes zero in on my very pregnant (ex-)girlfriend behind the bar.
Mags is on the other side, and the new girl is also there. King is reaching for a bottle on one of the higher shelves but can't get to it. An arm appears out of nowhere and hands it down. King swivels and beams at her helper. Following the arm to a face that is now smiling down at her with a gentleness I've never seen before, my vision turns a deep crimson. Marcus laughs at something King says and pulls her into a side hug.
A growl builds in my throat, and I start forward.
My bicep is suddenly in a vise grip. "Whoa, slow down."
I jerk around and get into D's face. "Are you seeing this?" I point toward the bar with my free hand.
She doesn't move away. I can't intimidate her. But she does let go of me and speaks calmly. "I am, but you told her that all you wanted was to be in your child's life, not hers."
"So, she replaced me with Lilly's shadow?" my voice gets louder, and I'm starting to make a scene. A group next to us stops talking, and their entire focus is on us. My pulse is thrashing in my ears, and Den's reaction to the show in front of us pisses me off even more.
"You guys made it." Rhys's overeager exclamation breaks our stare down, and D's eyes move behind me.
She gives him a curt nod and walks past us to a table Lilly and Elle are currently occupying. Seems everyone is starting to get to town.
Rhys opens his mouth, but I shoulder past him, aiming for the only person I have any interest in talking to.
As if there haven’t been five months and two major secrets-slash-life events happen since the last time I saw her behind the bar, she senses my approach—that hasn't changed. Her eyes fly to mine, followed by her stepping out of Marcus's embrace. I shove my fists into the front pockets of my jeans in the hopes that I don't do anything stupid—like clock The Shadow. Marcus doesn't force her back into the hug, but he angles himself so that he shields King.
As soon as I'm within earshot, I can't stop myself. "Really, Shadow?" I seethe. "You think I would hurt her?" A mix of sarcasm and rage forces me forward until I'm almost nose to nose with him.
