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We don't move.
"Rylee, are you okay?" I murmur, tugging on her gently while she zones out.
Her watery laugh hurts my soul. "No. I'm not okay, Marcus." Turning, she looks me in the eye and allows me to see her exhaustion. "My baby brother just showed up on my doorstep, and all I could do was cry and panic. Where is Layla?"
Now that her rant is complete, she starts frantically scanning the area around her.
"LAYLA!"
"Mommy!" The driver-side door of Jude's black Jeep flies open and out-tumbles Jackson with a wiggly Layla. As soon as her little feet hit the ground, she's sprinting to her momma like they had been separated for years. Rylee kneels just in time to scoop her up.
Jackson isn't far behind the little one, but he runs straight to me and grips my jaw gently in one hand. "Shit, babe. Are you okay? We need to get some ice on that!"
"I bet sitting on the sidelines was hard for you, huh?" I smirk, hoping to ease his worry. Scoffing, he lays his lips on mine for a moment. When he releases my face, the arm around my hips stays even as he walks us closer to the girls.
"JJ..." Rylee breathes, Layla sitting on her cocked hip. "Thank you for protecting her. I didn't know what was happening, and I knew you would... I just... thank you for keeping my little girl safe." No more tears fall, but Rylee's lip quivers, and her voice wobbles.
Without missing a beat, Jackson wraps the four of us in a hug. It feels so right. A ball of emotion gets lodged in my throat when Layla rests her head against my shoulder.
"I'll always keep you both safe, I promise." JJ drops a kiss on Layla's forehead when we pull away. "Now, can someone tell me who the fu-fudge is in your house?"
Rylee sighs, her eyes going distant. "That's my younger brother, Tate. The one I haven't seen in six years."
"Shit."
"JJ! Language!" Layla pushes his chest from her perch on Rylee’s waist.
Jackson looks down with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, sweetie." He plucks her from Ry, looking mighty pleased with himself when Layla twirls his black hair around in her fingers.
Sparing a glance at Rylee, she looks just as I feel.
Completely fucking wooed.
ChapterTwenty-Six
RYLEE
Sundays aren't meant to be like this.
I should still be sipping coffee and watching my child do whatever she wants to do for the day. Layla wanted the guys to come over. What we were going to do? I have no idea, but I was excited.
The festering guilt in my soul spits at me.
I should be thrilled to see my brother, and here I am thinking about all the ways this just fucked up my Sunday with my daughter and my guys.My?
Seeing Tate on my doorstep at first didn't make sense. All I saw was a stranger who was staring at me and Layla way too hard for me to feel comfortable. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I told my daughter to run to the men I trust, and I put myself in between her and potential harm.
As soon as I saw Layla in Jackson's arms, the man in front of me finally registered. He’s grown up now. But his blue eyes are the same as mine. As Layla's. Tate had a very thin face growing up, and it seems he still has fairly fair features. Although, he's made it clear we shouldn’t underestimate him. Underneath his high cheekbones, blonde hair, and sharp jaw, my little brother can hold his own. Thinking about it, his bone structure reminds me a lot of Leo.
Seeing Tate brought on an entire fucking tsunami of memories. Not the good ones. The pool of guilt swallows more of my sparkle.
I should look at my brother and remember the good times. Chasing each other around the yard, having water fights, making shadow puppets, watching him play video games, trying not to laugh at the dinner table together. Instead, when I faced my little brother after six years, a torrent of my worst memories since I was ripped away from him drowned me in tears and sorrow.
Looking at the young man he has become, all I feel is loss. I missed out on so much. I could blame our parents, but I question if there was a way we could have connected sooner.Should I have tried to stay in his life? Even after being forcibly removed from his life.
My heart fractures remembering the aggressive hands that dragged me out of study the night I told my parents I was pregnant.
I swear my heart grew arms and is trying to claw its way out of my throat. A mutant organ born from anxiety.
