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“Then, of course, I want him. You two need a night alone. And while you’re enjoying yourselves, lean into it if you feel the urge to confess your love.” She smoothed a hand over Caleb’s head. The little guy was lost to a world that included only him and his snack.
“For chrissake.” Lock pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to get the fuck out of there before he started considering their asinine ideas.
“Are you ladies torturing the poor man?” Curly’s voice came from the front of the house.
“No!” a chorus of giggling women shouted. At the same time, Lock yelled, “Yes! They are. They’re all up in my goddamn business. Get in here and control your woman.”
Liv stuck her tongue out at him. “Tattletale.”
“It’s cute you think I can,” Curly said as he strode into the room, casual in charcoal sweatpants and a black tee.
“That’s right. No man controls me,” Liv announced before she hiccupped. “Oops.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I might have had too much.”
Lock snorted. “Ya think?” He’d reached his limit of nosiness for one day. “Okay, I’m outta here while I still have my balls.” He turned to Brooke. “You sure you don’t need anything for him? I didn’t bring a thing.”
“Nope.” She accepted a kiss on her cheek from Curly. “We have everything, including clothes. Go. Have fun.”
“Take her out on the bike,” Curly suggested. He scooped Caleb out of his chair and nuzzled his nose against the baby’s soft cheek. Caleb giggled and grabbed a fistful of the president’s curly hair as he did every time.
“That’s a good idea, Prez.” Toting Caleb around cut his bike time down to a depressing level. A car seat didn’t exactly work on a motorcycle. “You be good, buddy.”
Caleb gurgled and turned toward Lock when he heard his voice. There was something magical about the simple pleasure of his son being able to pick out his voice among all the others.
He kissed Caleb’s forehead and then went on his way after accepting hugs and more unsolicited advice from all the women. They meant well even though they drove him crazy. He loved each of them not only for his brothers but for their unconditional support. Even when he flat-out didn’t deserve it.
Brenna wouldn’t be done working for a few more hours, which was fine. He had a quick appointment in the afternoon at a small business in town, but then they were free to have a child-free night of fun.
Hell yes.
After leaving Brooke and Curly’s, he drove straight to his house to switch out the car for his bike.
Two seconds after he pulled into his driveway, a non-descript sedan rolled to a stop at the curb in front of his house.
“You lost, man?” he asked as a short man with a stocky build and a thick head of graying hair climbed out.
“You Jake Renlow?”
Lock frowned. “Who wants to know?”
The guy walked toward him carrying a thick manilla envelope. “I have some official court documents for you if you’re him.”
“I am. Court documents?” He accepted the package with a frown.
“No idea what it’s about, man. I deliver the papers. No one tells me shit.”
“Yeah. Okay, thanks,” he said. His mind already dismissed the man as he carefully worked the packet open.
“From the law offices of Madison and Cooper,” he muttered. Cooper? Why did that name sound familiar?
He read on and sank to his knees on the lawn after three lines. Pain like he’d never experienced twisted his insides until he was doubled over, panting.
No.
This couldn’t be real.
His vision blurred, and everything he’d worked his ass off for over the past few months evaporated into thin air. Nothing mattered anymore. Not the work he’d put in, not the sobriety he’d achieved, not the happiness he’d found with Brenna since the first time he touched her.
A primal wail tore through the quiet afternoon air, sounding like a wounded animal in horrific pain. The ground crumbled beneath him, sending him tumbling into endless darkness. He lost himself as he careened toward nothingness, swallowed by despair and failure.
