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“So, we’re really doing it then?” She asked, biting her lip, and dimming her smile.
“Hell, yeah. Even with my music and a little travel now and then to work on my career, which I fully expect you to go with me,” Beck pointed a finger at her, “I’m ready to not be driving all over town to see you assholes. Not you, you’re my pretty girl.” He winked at her.
“I’m down. I don’t have access to my trust fund anymore, and I doubt I will ever get it based on what George is saying, but I’ve already saved up quite a bit of money from working at the shop.” Rhys set his beer on the table after downing half of it.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Thatcher sat up. “Not that I care about the trust fund, but what’s George saying? Thanks for having him work on Trinity’s case by the way, in case I haven’t said it.”
“You’ve said it a million times. And Trinity has even thanked me. I’m just sorry he dropped the ball at the end.”
Thatcher pulled a face like that was a ridiculous thing to apologize for. “I might feel differently if she had to work out a plea deal or something, but it all worked out. Back to what George said about you.”
“Not about me exactly. More like, the leak of Stan’s association with Noel Warrick isn’t doing him any favors. No one can prove that he was part of her child trafficking business, but that doesn’t matter. It’s been leaked all over the news. He’s been condemned in the public eye.” Rhys met Thatcher’s gaze without an ounce of misplaced shame or embarrassment.
Good. I was glad to see he didn’t see himself as an extension of his father. Other people might. They probably always would, but it would never touch us.
Because no one else mattered.
I couldn’t speak for Rhys, but the weird looks students, teachers or hell, even people out at restaurants sent him didn’t seem to factor anymore.
We’d appeared in a few more gossip magazines about our polyamory relationship, which made me snort. That wasn’t what we had at all, but whatever. Like I said, they didn’t matter.
Now that we were certain it wouldn’t affect our colleges, it rolled right off our backs.
“Did you even want the money?” Beck asked, reaching a hand out to trace doodles on Astrid’s knee.
“Hell, no. I never would have touched it anyway. To use that money would give him power over me and I would never have allowed that. I would have starved first.”
“No need to get all dramatic,” Thatcher said as he held up both his hands. “We all have jobs. You three have college plans. No one will be homeless or starving.”
“You idiots, Dad would never let you be homeless or starve.” Angel fell on the cushions next to Beck.
The man just kept appearing out of thin air, like Rumpelstiltskin. No one had even said his name.
“Maybe Beck and Jonah.” Astrid leaned back against Rhys’ chest as she gave Angel a loopy grin.
“Nah.” He smiled at her. “You guys have grown on us. Even if you walked away from these knuckleheads, we’d help you if you needed it. I think you guys aren’t giving yourselves enough credit though. None of you would allow yourselves to get to that place. You’re too determined. Like little chihuahuas nipping on the heels of life.”
We all laughed.
“Where’s your sister?” He nodded at Thatcher. “She out celebrating?”
Thatcher grinned as he settled back against the couch. “Trinity has self-sworn she wouldn’t do anything to get herself in that position again. She came here with me.” He nodded over to the far side where the kegs were.
I twisted my neck with everybody else.
And there was Trinity, no cup in hand, so she wasn’t drinking. She looked good. Happy. Not the troubled girl she’d been ever since I’d met her.
She glanced over and grinned at Astrid before turning back to the guy she was talking to, who looked like he walked straight off of a Sons of Anarchy set.
With all the tattoos, piercings and all around mean mug, he had an edge to him that the leftover members of Grave’s club lacked.
An odd choice for her to talk to so soon after her charges were dropped, but looks meant nothing. Just because he looked like an extra inmate from Scared Straight, didn’t mean he was a bad person.
Didn’t I have a whole body full of tattoos myself? For all I knew, he was a muffin man underneath the hard exterior.
“What the fuck is Benson doing here?” Angel growled, his top lip curling. Pushing his hair back, he scooted to the edge of the seat.
“Who’s that?” Astrid asked, a cute, confused expression crossed her face.
