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“Are you ready to go home? Your Daddy Asher promised breakfast again.” My voice croaks at the word home, but I shake it off. Carter assured me we were safe. There are agents wandering around my property. And Asher is going to meet us there.
We’re in good damn hands. I just can’t shake this nagging feeling something is about to pop up and throw me off my axis.
Lyric grins. Everything about her lights the fuck up at the mention of them bringing her breakfast.
“Pancakes?” she whispers with big, pleading eyes. She had a few an hour ago, but my child is always down to eat.
I shrug, watching the light in her eyes sparkle brighter. My heart pounds. This is so damn new for us. Slick sweat coats my palms as I slide into the driver’s seat, giving one last wave to my family. All the shitty what-ifs bounce around my skull like an unpleasant smell. What if they leave again? What if they break her heart? Or yours?
No.
Scratch that last one. River’s barely mended heart is currently locked beneath thick steel and razor blades. It’s impenetrable. Maybe bulletproof. More importantly, Whispered Words proof. They can show up as dads. That’s it. Nothing less. Nothing more.
Keep telling yourself that.
“He didn’t specify,” I murmur, driving away from the only family that has ever given a shit about me.
It’s odd. Years ago, I hated Seger and Zeppelin for what they had. Dad’s love. His money. Everything under the sun while I barely survived on food stamps, two jobs, and a dream. It wasn’t until they came to me that I understood what they didn’t have either. They may have had a swimming pool with a cave and waterfall, money galore, and twenty cars, but they didn’t have love either. They only had each other. Well, and Kaycee, Chase, and Carter, too. They made their own family. Just like I did.
Not until we formed our own bond. I mean, the twenty-million dollars helped out a lot. But money can only buy so many things.
“I hope it’s pancakes! Or French toast!” She giggles behind her hands, watching out the window as we drive past all the familiar spots on our way home.
“I should have named you Maple,” I quip when she wiggles in her seat with an excited giggle.
No one should be this cheerful in the morning. I need to siphon off some of her energy.
“I like syrup, Mommy,” she murmurs, plastering her little face against the glass, leaving marks behind as we pull through the gate of our driveway.
My eyes pass over the guard, sitting at attention in the hut. He eyes me with concern but waves me on. From the looks of it, he’s on high alert after last night’s incident. I’m sure Carter and his crew filled him in on what fuckery could be on the horizon.
As I pull into the driveway, my brows furrow. There, standing with a tray of coffee in his hand and a large plastic bag, is Asher. His back is turned to me as he stares off toward the house.
“Weird,” I mumble, throwing the car into park and turning to look at Lyric, who is scrambling to undo her seat belt. I jump when Asher’s worried expression peers through the window as he taps. “What’s up?” I ask, raising a brow when I roll the window down.
His eyes dart to Ly in the backseat. “Um, could I talk to you outside? Leave her in here,” he whispers.
“Ly, stay here for a second. Daddy needs a word. Okay?” I raise a brow when she crosses her arms and throws herself back into her booster seat.
“Fine,” she grumbles dramatically.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, stepping out of the car after rolling up the window so Lyric can’t spy on us like she loves to do. Sometimes I think my kid is way too observant for her own damn good.
“I don’t want to freak you out—”
“You’re already freaking me out.” My heart pounds out of control when he swallows hard, looking over his shoulder.
“There’s a package for you on the porch. And it’s—covered in what looks like blood.”
I blink rapidly. My breath catches in my damn throat, closing in on me.
“What?” I croak.
“Let’s just go through the back and go inside, okay? Then we can look at it. I just want to make sure Ly doesn’t see it.” I nod without thinking, letting Evil Ash take control of the situation.
My mind doesn’t allow me to peek at the porch when he ushers us in through the back sliding glass door.
Once we’re inside, he sets the coffee and food down on the counter, spreading it out as a distraction, and puts it onto plates.
