Page 49 of Sweet Strings


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My eyes drop to Lyric clinging to his hand as her wide eyes take every inch of me in, sizing me up. I swallow the hard lump forming in my throat. She’s a fucking mini version of River mixed with my features, too.

In my heart, I know there’s no denying who she belongs to. You take one look at her and you know without a doubt, without getting a DNA test, that she belongs to me. And because we walked away, we never got the chance to know her. I never got the chance to watch her walk or talk or crawl. Fuck.

“I’m going to take care of River,” I say softly, peering into Lyric’s eyes. “I’m going to take care of your mommy until she feels better, okay? And then maybe we can hang out?” I question, raising a brow when she slowly nods in agreement.

My heart seizes in my chest when she pulls away from Callum and slams into me, hugging my thigh. Her strong little grip clings on as she takes several deep breaths and finally peers up at me.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says in a raspy, overused voice.

“You’re welcome,” I say, as a burning heat rises behind my eyes. My fingers trail through her long dark locks, trying to soothe the worry.

“Yeah, Little Pretty Girl. Why don’t we get you dressed and have a fun daddy’s day,” he says with uncertainty, looking down at her like she’s the fucking sun in his sky.

Looking around the room, I examine all their varying expressions. From the looks of it, they’ve all known for a period of time and haven’t said a word to me.

An off-feeling of understanding presses down on me. I fucking get why they didn’t talk to me about it, but it still fucking sucks. I was so bitter in the limo when Asher asked.

It fucking hurt so goddamn bad that she would go behind our backs not only sleep with Van but have his baby, too.

Gloria picked on me when my nerves were raw as hell and dropped the news on me at my lowest. Her mothering skills were weak at best, and I don’t know why the hell I took her word for it back then.

Rad scoops Lyric into his arms, navigating toward her room like he’s tucked her in a million times before. Within ten minutes, Lyric is dressed in a mismatched outfit and a worried expression lining her face.

“My mommy will be okay, right?” she asks in a quiet voice when I crouch in front of her. The back of my fingers brush against her plump cheeks, and I nod.

“Don’t worry, Little Blue. I won’t let anything happen to your mommy today.” And that’s a fucking promise. River has to feel better so the five of us can sit down and have a lengthy discussion.

As if my words erase the worry sitting on her shoulders, she gives me a toothy grin. She’s melting my fucking heart without doing anything at all. The need to not only protect her but heal her wounds has my fatherly instincts on overdrive. Without another word being said, she wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes me while kissing my cheek.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Those words. They stay in my mind long after they take Lyric across the street and do God knows what with her. Our house isn’t exactly childproof.

I silently chastise myself. Grabbing the forgotten glass of water, I silently walk back into the bathroom where I had left River minutes before. River has barely moved from her spot. Except now she leans against the wall with her eyes squeezed shut and her knees at her chest, sucking in air.

“Sorry,” I mutter gently, sitting beside her and handing her the glass of water. “I met Lyric. Don’t worry about her, though. The guys took her across the street.” Her breaths shutter in her chest as she gives a slow nod. Taking the glass of water, she gulps down a few mouthfuls and takes a deep breath.

“Let me guess; you didn’t know either.” She doesn’t bother opening her eyes, instead squeezing them tighter. She grimaces, rubbing a hand across her stomach.

“If I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have stayed away. Even if I fucking despised you for what you did… I would never stay away from my baby.” My sentence starts out strong but dissipates by the end, coming out as a breathy whisper.

River doesn’t react like I thought she would. I expected a scoff or some form of disagreement, but she simply lays her head against the wall.

“Yeah, I’m getting the distinct hint that nothing I believed is real,” she grumbles, finishing off the water in three long swallows.

“Gloria told me that you had a baby. But she said it wasn’t mine or the guys; she told me it was Van’s.”

Running a hand down my face, I relive all the situations that long ago I shoved into a little black box of forgotten memories. From the moment we left Central City to the day we got to East Point. It all comes back like a tornado, wreaking havoc on my emotions.

“And you believed her,” she says defiantly, with anger rising in tinging her voice. If this conversation keeps progressing, we are going to have an all-out brawl of words we can’t take back.

“Not now. Let’s do this when you’re feeling better; then you can bust my lip. Right now, you’re sick as shit. And you need to rest before we can hash this shit out.” As much as I want to continue the conversation and get to the bottom of what the hell happened, I know my words are true. I want her to get better, and I want to figure this out.

“Fine,” she says through a breath. “I’m going to bed. You can go home,” she says, trying to get to her feet. River stumbles around a little bit before catching herself against my body. Fuck. The feel of her pressing against me messes with my damn head. Fire brews beneath my skin. Her touch is so right. Yet so wrong at the same time.

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere. You’ve been here for six-plus hours. You need help. And that’s what I’m going to do. Once you’re better, we are all going to sit down and have a nice long conversation.” The familiar glare I grew to love years ago stares back at me in defiance.

“You really don’t have to stay. I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. I didn’t ask you to come over here…”

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