Done. Deal.
Even though she kept Maverick from me, I know why. Didn't say I hated it, but I get it. She wanted to protect her baby—our baby—and the last time she'd seen me, I didn't exactly lament the idea of having children with her.
Lord, what she must have experienced that night. Just thinking about all I've done to her causes a lance of heat to painfully strip across my chest.
I called her a little con. Made her feel like she was a thief. And for what? Because my oldest brother is a lying bastard, who doesn't even deserve to breathe.
The Prince family, aside from Emmerson, can bite my ass. My dad for taking his side of things for all these years, and my mom for protecting him and trying to force me into settling things. The only person who's been there for me, besides that scheming bitch Cassandra, was my brother, who isn't really my brother, Emmerson.
Not anymore. I got my crew, and I'm set. I will help Harloe raise Maverick and be there for both of them every second of every day. No matter what. I don't give a damn if Harloe is pissed, stressed, or just exhausted and wants to use me as a punching bag. Know what I have to say to that?
Bring it on, baby.
I'm not the type to skip out when the going gets tough and shirk my responsibilities. Fuck that.
Maybe I wasn't there during the pregnancy. Maybe I wasn't there when he was born or for the last two years. But I will be there for him until the last breath in my body has long since slipped from my lips.
He's my world. They both are. And I'm determined to spend the rest of my life proving that.
My lips tick up into a secretive smile when I think about spending my life with Harloe. One day—maybe not soon, but one day—I want to be the man she deserves. Our past may be littered with bullet holes and scar tissue, but that doesn't mean we can't make it into something beautiful.
Something wholesomely ours.
Easton taps on the archway leading from the hallway to the living room. I give him my attention, and he says, "I want my marshmallow and mini-mallow, dude."
My lips tick up even more. "They have names, E."
He nods. "They're my mallows, and that's just the way it's going to be."
Without another word, he turns back around and disappears back into the bathroom. Now, he's doing the most around here to get things cleaned up for Harloe and my son's arrival.
My son. Fuck, every time I think it or say it, it just doesn't feel real. But it is, and I am fucked if I'm giving back this version of my reality. There's no way I would have done anything differently. Except for maybe the way we ended up here after all these years. But still, I'm right where I want to be.
Easton, Leo, and Zeke? They're right here with me. They may be doing their own things, but we're still just as close, if not closer than we were before graduating high school.
Fluffing the last pillow, I quickly dart upstairs to make sure everything is in order. Up here, there're just three bedrooms and a bathroom, so I do quick work to clean and dash. Checking the bathroom, I'm relieved to find it's in a semi-orderly state. Then I go about checking Zeke, Easton, and Traven's rooms.
Never know when a two-year-old will fancy a tour, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for my little man.
Stopping to knock twice, I open Traven's door. "Yo, not that I give a fuck, but Harloe and—"
What I see stops me in my tracks, causing my blood to boil instantly.
"The fuck is she doing here?!" I all but roar.
Being the dumbass I apparently am, I invited Traven to the cookout. You know, since he lives in the house with us. Even though I know how he is and what he tried to pull on my Harloe, I turned the other cheek and told him he could come. Leo even said that it was “mighty big of me” to do such a thing.
I'm trying to teach my son that the thought of redemption isn't a lost cause. But apparently, it is with this fool.
Cassandra and Traven are sitting on his bed, quietly talking amongst themselves. But that's not what has me in a tizzy. It's the fact he invited her here at all. Every single one of the guys knows how things went down with Cass. They know about the clinic visit, and how she was behind my break up with Harloe three years ago.
In knowing, they also comprehended without needing words that she was no longer welcome in the house I'm paying for.
"You stupid fuck!" I clench my fists and step into his room.
Kicking the door shut behind me, I narrow my gaze and assess both of them. Traven is the first to speak, even while Cass's eyes eat me up from head to toe like she has the goddamn right.
"Didn't think it'd be a big deal," he says by way of excuse.
My eyebrows hit my hairline. "Not a big deal? I was regularly fucking her less than seven months ago, Lockridge. She caused all of my fucking problems! Get her the fuck out of my house!"
He decides to grow some balls, standing up from his bed. "I pay my way in this house just as much as you. If I want her here, she can be here." I see Cass jerk her head in a nod, pleased with someone standing up for her dumb ass.
"You pay a percentage of the bills, not equals," I growl, taking a menacing step forward. "And if you don't want to lose your place in this house, I'd suggest you toe the. Goddamn. Line!"
I know I've made myself clear when his eyes narrow on mine, and he says nothing in return. There's always a time and place with him, and Traven is the type to bow down like a subservient little pup before he gets the shit knocked out of him. It's the only reason I allowed him to move in here with us. The only fucking reason.
Pleased with his silence, I flick my gaze in Cassandra's direction. "Harloe and my son," I emphasis my words for more effect, so she gets the drift and beats feet, "—will be here any minute. You better not be if you know what's good for you."
Jerking to her feet in skyscraper heels, she crosses her arms and pins me with a glare. "I warned you that we weren't over, and you didn't take my warning seriously. This is your last chance before I take action into my own hands."
"I'd rather eat fucking shit than be within your vicinity. Get. Fucked."
Adrenaline buzzes in my veins as I turn around and make my way out of his room. Slamming the door behind me, I clench and unclench my hands to try to work some of the aggression out of my system. What I wouldn't give for a punching bag right about now.
As I come to the top of the stairs, Leo meets me about halfway up, eyeing me up and down. His gaze hardens when he notices my state of anger. "What's wrong?"
Without looking at him, I stop beside him at the steps and look out through the top balcony window. I seethe low and gritty, "Get her the fuck out of my house," before continuing my way down the stairs.
Heading straight for the fridge, I grab a cold Budweiser and unscrew the lid, guzzling it. One of the best things about having an influential name—you get shit, even if you aren't legal yet.
As I'm throwing my bottle away, there comes a tiny knock from the front door. It's slow, unhurried, as if the person has to think for a moment how they want their knuckles to land on the weathered wood. A smile gently pulls at the corner of my lips, fighting with the anger still buzzing underneath. But, eventually, it wins out because I know whose little knock that is.