So I thought about going until I realized I didn’t have anything to run from now.
I sat beside the grave, but he wasn’t in there. They couldn’t find…most of him. That type of fire was too difficult to escape.
I wasn’t sure he even tried.
You’re gone.
My cell rang. I didn’t want to answer it so close to the grave. I walked away and resolved never to look back.
Sarah’s number blinked across the display.
“Hey,” I said. “What’d the doctor say?”
“Everything’s looking good.”
“And Bumper?”
“Kicking my lungs.”
“Well, they don’t work anyway.”
“No, but they’re generally nice to not have bruised.” She hesitated, confirming what we figured. “The doctor warned I might have to go on bedrest in another few weeks because of the asthma.”
I groaned. “That’s not the good kind of bedrest. You’re not allowed to do anything fun then.”
“Certainly not your idea of fun.”
“That’s every man’s idea of fun.”
The wind whipped against the phone. I inhaled, but whatever charred the estate also settled in my veins, my skin, my hair. Two weeks had passed, and I still found smudges of ash over my house. It’d be spooky if I hadn’t already lived through my worst fears.
“Where are you?” Sarah asked.
Yeah, right. She wouldn’t understand, and I didn’t want her to worry about that night. Too many things went wrong.
Actually, not a whole hell of a lot went right over the past year.
I was changing that. Better late than never.
“I’m outside,” I said. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. I’d never lie to her. “You?”
“Home.” Her voice warmed. “Well, at Nick’s. Are you coming over?”
I cleared my throat. “Actually. I…uh, I have a date.”
Shock. The baby would probably crash out of her right then.
“You have a date?”
“Yeah.”
“With a girl?”
If she didn’t know my preferences by now, I couldn’t help her. “Yeah.”
“Is she…” Sarah laughed. “Is she normal?”
Were any of us? “She’s just someone I know. Thought maybe it’d be good to get out. Head to the ocean. Surf.”
“Sure. Yeah. That’s…” Sarah smiled, and I could hear it over the phone. She was doing that more lately. I liked it. “That’s really good. I’m so glad you can finally…”
And now the weeping. So much for the smile, but she blamed the pregnancy.
It wasn’t. She felt the same thing I did.
Relief.
“I’ll stop by tomorrow,” I promised.
“I want all the details.”
Yeah, she was getting them whether she wanted them or not. For the past year my only relationship consisted of trying to fuck and breed my step-sister. How the hell was I supposed to be normal now?
Most girls wanted flowers and roses. Sarah just wanted to stop bruising and get mounted by me and my brother at the same time.
No matter how much money I had in my pocket that shit wasn’t the eccentric life of a billionaire. It was pure fucking crazy. And who the hell knew how much damage it did to any of us.
Sarah bounced back, if only because she was more spring that human, forced to the ground to pop up again. And Nick? Christ. What the hell did he care? He got everything. Company. Woman. Baby. Future.
I couldn’t even think about Max.
Which left me and my baggage, each piece categorized with a neat little tag. Father issues, Guilt, Grief, Oddly specific sexual fetishes that weren’t resolved or explored.
Yeah, we were in good shape.
But at least I finally had the chance to try. I wanted out, and this was it. My own life, my own future, my own everything.
God help the girl who got saddled with me.
But that’s what the dimple was for. So far, it got me into enough trouble. Maybe it was time it got me out of some.
Or maybe it was time I found someone to share the trouble with me.
It was the most harrowing, sweaty, utterly disturbing experience of my life.
Then the nurse passed the squirmy bundle of pink to me.
And I figured it hadn’t been so bad.
Nicholas didn’t last. I never saw him cry before, but he nuzzled against me, breath just as labored as mine. They probably should have given him the oxygen. I didn’t need it.
I hadn’t breathed since Bumper looked up at me.
“Oh, she’s the most beautiful baby girl,” the nurse said. “She looks just like Daddy. Look at those big, golden eyes.”
I clutched her, but I was lost. Overwhelmed.
Nicholas held us, both of us.
Me and his daughter.
And we both wept in joy.
The party was scheduled for tomorrow. After finals. Because, for some reason, I thought it’d be fun to chase the baby, take an eight AM final, graduate, and then have a giant formal party to celebrate my degree.
But if anyone could handle it, it was me.
Still, my books were piled on the patio table, cast out around me. I stared at the results of my titration lab. They were the right figures, of course, but smudged with smashed bananas. I’d pass it off as me initialing the work and hopefully my professor—a woman with a young child herself—wouldn’t take too many points off my current A.
It really wouldn’t matter. I still had Atwood Industries to run and the future GMO division of the Bennett Corporation to oversee, but I wanted this degree. Not because it was what my family planned for me, and not because I had to finish anything I started, but because it was for me.
It was mine.
And I wasn’t letting anything keep me from what was mine anymore.
So I pushed the sippy-cup toward the high-chair and let the chubby little hand squeeze my fingers as I studied.
“Hannah,” I smiled at the squealing toddler. “Can you say titration?”
“Ie-ie-ah-banana.”
Nicholas snorted over his laptop. “Sounds like she’s going into business with me.”
“Yeah, right. That was an –ethyl group. She’s talking compounds and esters.”
The sippy-cup smashed to the table. Nicholas scooped it up before it spilled over my books.
“Thank you, Daddy.” I murmured.
“Did you graduate yet?”
I bit my pencil. “Not yet. Give me twenty-four hours.”
“You sure you can’t take off early?”
I didn’t trust the devious glow in his golden eyes—warm and promising and absolutely not the distraction I needed while studying for my last test ever.
At least, until I went for my doctorate.
“The plane’s ready,” he teased. “Beautiful spot on the beach. Just you, me, Bumper.”
“You know we can’t go until after tomorrow. Hard to host a graduation party if I’m not here.”
“Hard to have a honeymoon if you don’t want to go.”
“Oh, I want to go.”
“Do you?”
“Depends,” I smirked. “What are you planning?”
“You’ll see.”
Nicholas curled a finger. I leaned in close, stealing a heated, perfect kiss.
Hannah squealed in shrill delight. I knew that excited sound. I murmured against his lips.
“Uncle Reed’s here.” I pulled from Nicholas. Reluctantly. “Honeymoon can wait.”
Reed jogged onto the patio, making a beeline for the baby. Hannah loved the game, and she raised her arms for a hug. Spoiled little thing. All she ever got were hugs. And kisses. And trust funds. Mostly hugs.