Having come out here to share the news about Bear, Cyan’s state didn’t exactly make me want to reveal the truth to either of them. I didn’t think she knew Bear all that well anymore. Before Rene’s death, they’d been like two peas in a pod, but after Rene passed away, he’d distanced himself from everyone. Not just close family, but the entire MC.
Regardless, now clearly wasn’t the right time to share Bear’s passing so, instead, I asked, "Baby, what is it? What’s wrong?"
Storm straightened up. "She’s upset because we had words."
"Why? What did she do?" Storm wasn’t exactly a disciplinarian. That shit fell to me. Which was, I assumed, why I’d turned into the Hans Gruber of our household.
Even though he was stricter now after that bastard, you couldn’t change eleven years of parenting overnight.
"She got into a fight with one of the kids in there."
My eyes flared wide as shock slammed into me and almost knocked me on my ass. "Cyan? Our daughter, Cyan, got in a fight?"
Said daughter sobbed a little harder, and Storm’s already tight mouth pursed some more. "We should get inside. It’s cold."
"It is," I agreed, but before he could make a move, I tacked on softly, "Storm, I think it’d be best if you came and stayed at the house tonight."
Brow puckering, he mouthed, "Why?"
I grimaced, but Cyan stopped sniffling as she turned her face away from where she was hiding it against my neck, and whispered, "Daddy can stay the night?"
Humming, I said, "He sure can."
It was the first time I’d let him, and I did so for one reason—learning about Bear’s passing would destroy him.
Storm didn’t question crap, not like I’d thought he would. But his concerned frown didn’t die as he said, "I’ll grab my stuff."
I cleared my throat. "MaryCat’s coming home with me, too, Storm. Are you okay with sleeping on the couch?"
He shrugged like it made no difference to him. "Of course."
When he walked past me, the aftershave he’d worn as long as I’d known him wafted along too.
God, he smelled good.
How was it that hadn’t changed, the basic layout of his face hadn’t either, even if he was a lot older now, and yet, the man was so different.
I half expected to receive a cocky smirk, one that told me he’d charm me out of my pants the second he could. I thought there’d be heat or expectation in his gaze—there wasn’t. There was just the acceptance that I needed him at home tonight.
The thought had me biting my lip as I squeezed Cyan. "You okay, baby? What made you get into a fight?"
She sniffled some more as she peered up at me. "Why can’t you and Daddy get back together, Mommy? Daddy says it’s because you’re smart, but I miss him. I-I don’t want him to be at the clubhouse. Why can’t he stay with us all the time?"
‘Mommy’ was still my kryptonite word. The one she’d stopped using, so whenever it came out, it felt like both a hug and a bullet.
And yet, for all that it had the power to stop me, what resonated the most was her words.
Daddy says it’s because you’re smart.
What was that supposed to mean?
She’d talked about our separation, and Storm had told her I’d done the right thing?
As much as when a cold front bashed into a warm one, I felt the stirrings of a hurricane brewing, but I wasn’t sure why.
The key lay heavily around my neck, suspended there as if it were a trophy, much like it were a precious gem in a pendant I could show off when it was the opposite. In reality, it was bulky and heavy and industrial, but oddly comforting for all that.
If he accepted that I was right to have dumped his ass, why had he gone to all this effort?
Property of Keira.
I thought about the tattoo he’d shown me back at Rachel’s house in West Orange. I’d seen his junk a thousand times before, but it was different now. So different. Enough that, despite the frigid temperature, the grief, and the situation, I squirmed a little inside.
He’d branded his dick with my name, for God’s sake. Had padlocked it and handed me the key.
That sure as hell beat the gesture of him giving me damn flowers and a limp apology for ‘accidentally’ falling into some slut’s pussy, didn’t it?
"Mom?"
Cyan tugged at my focus, and I blinked down at her. "Do you want to know a secret?"
Confusion flittered into her eyes. "Okay."
"I fell in love with your dad the second I laid eyes on him." My lips curved as memories bombarded me. "I was walking out of the auditorium at school. I was in the theater group and we’d been rehearsing for a play. A Midsummer Night’s Dream." I tugged on a piece of hair that had fallen into her tear-slick face and slipped it around to tuck it behind her ear. "I walked through the entrance, and he was there. Perched on a bike, looking bored as heck.
"He didn’t know that I saw him, not at first, but I did. I watched him watch me." My lips quirked up. "I started school older than everyone else until I skipped two grades. So, for a while, the boys around me weren’t just young in maturity but in age too. Your daddy was so different by comparison. He stuck out like a sore thumb to me.
"In all these years, he hasn’t changed that much. Still wears Henleys and jeans and that cut, but he was younger and dangerous and when I saw him, seated on his hog, he was the most terrifyingly beautiful man I’d ever seen."
She peered up at me, all bewildered curiosity even as she was hungry for more. "What happened?"
"Nothing." I shrugged but I softened it by squeezing her into a hug. "I smiled at him. He watched me go."
"That’s it?" she complained, which made me grin.
"That’s it." I didn’t tell her that he’d been there every day for the remainder of the school year.
I didn’t tell her that he’d been sitting outside, whenever I left weather be damned, and that, each and every time, we’d smiled at each other.
Instead of telling her any of that, I just whispered, "I loved him then, I love him now, but baby, life isn’t simple. I wish it were, I wish I could give you what you need, but I can’t." I sucked in a breath as I gave myself a moment. Nothing about today had gone how I expected, and yet, for all that my head was here, there, and everywhere, I had no desire to malign her father. Not when it seemed as if he were the one source of joy she had amid this welter of changes in her life. "Your dad and I, we can love each other without being together."
"But I want you to be together," she whispered, her voice soggy with emotion. "I-I want to go to sleep at night knowing Daddy’s down the hall. I want him to be there all the time. I want—"
When she broke off, even though her words killed me, I whispered, "What do you want, baby?"
"I-I want to be safe. Daddy keeps us safe. If he’s there, no one can get into the house."
Tension whipped up inside me, but as calmly as I could, I asked, "Did—" I almost choked on the bastard’s name. "—Martin get into our place?"
"Just once." Her eyes were wet. "I-I didn’t like it, but he was..." She swallowed. "I-I don’t want to feel unsafe anymore, Mommy. Can’t Daddy come and live with us again?"