I look up from the stacks on my desk just as Becks takes a seat in front of me, propping his feet up on its edge. “Please. Make yourself at home.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he says in that slow even drawl of his that’s equal parts irritating and comforting to me. “So?”

“He didn’t show,” I explain with a shake of my head. “I sat outside the damn office for an hour before and an hour after his appointed meeting with his parole officer and the fucker never showed.”

Such a waste of time. Staking out the probation office during the two hours around Eddie’s appointment time. Watching drug deals go down and a hooker giving a guy head in his car, while I waited to have my moment with Eddie. Draw him out to give him a little payback of my own.

“Can’t you get in trouble seeking him out with the restraining order?” he asks.

“Restraining order was filed on Ry’s behalf. Not mine,” I say with a smirk. I want him nowhere fucking near her. Now me on the other hand? I have no problem coming face to face with him. In fact, there’s nothing I’d like more.

“So you can approach him, kick his ass, and . . .”

“And no one’s worse for wear,” I say with a shrug. “Well, besides him that is.”

“Can take the man out of the trouble but can’t stop the boy in him from looking for it,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Damn straight.”

“But wait. He didn’t show, so now what? Will he be hauled back to jail for violation or some shit?” He laces his fingers and brings his hands behind his head.

“No clue. Possibly . . . but I have a feeling he’s a helluva lot more scared of the loan sharks and their thugs than missing a parole appointment. Getting put back in jail might be the safest place for him, considering the amount of phone calls I’ve received asking me if I know his whereabouts.”

“Well played, brother,” he says with a shake of his head. “Giving his name up like that to the press.”

“It hit me that night at the bar. The loan sharks came knocking when we fired him. Then he fucked us by stealing the blueprints to sell so he could pay them back. So why not fuck him over by using them to pay me back?”

Full circles. They’re everywhere I look.

“Scary fucking shit, dude,” he muses. I glance to the garage down below. “So . . . how are things? Ry good?”

“Yeah. Good.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing.”

I lean back in my chair and prop my feet on my desk like he did, lace my fingers behind my head, and look at the ceiling. “What if I told you I was looking into adopting Zander?”

Becks doesn’t say a goddamn word, yet I can tell by the jerk of his body to attention in my peripheral vision that he heard me. “Subtlety isn’t something you know how to do, is it?” he coughs out.

“Nope. So?”

“I’d ask you if you’re fucking crazy on many fronts. Especially since you’re using the term I and not we.”

Fucking pronouns.

I roll my eyes. “Semantics.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” Becks says as he pokes holes through my story.

“Rylee said she wouldn’t think of it. That she can’t choose one boy over the others. I get it, but I told her I was looking into it anyway. The whole Zander thing is really eating her up.”

“Eating her up or you up?” he asks, eyes daring me to lie to him.

Shit. He’s calling me on the carpet and there’s no way I can deny it since he knows my history. Because fuck yes, a part of me wants to give Zander the opportunity I had. Save him like I was saved.

And yet at the same time, I understand Ry’s stance because I couldn’t pick him and not the other boys.

“You told me once, fight or flight. I chose to fight,” I say, thinking of that night a long time ago after Ry lost the baby. Becks had snapped me to attention, and forced me to be the man I feared being and of truths about myself I had to face. The ones that made me realize Ry was worth the goddamn effort and then some. “Well, I’m fighting.”

“For what though, Wood? What exactly is it you’re fighting for now?” He leans forward, puts his hands on his knees, and looks me in the eye.

I shove up out of my chair and walk over to the wall of windows that looks down to the shop below. It’s easier to watch the guys than deal with this shit.

Memories I thought I’d forgotten hit me out of nowhere: The fear with each knock on the front door that my mom was coming to take me away from Dorothea and Andy. Hands that high-fived and didn’t hit. Lights left on in the hallway because horrible things happened in the dark. Superhero posters on the walls I’d stare at when the nightmares hit. Fear turned to hope. Hope gave me life.

That life gave me love: Rylee.

“I’m fighting because like you said, she’s the goddamn alphabet, Becks.” I turn around to face him, hands out to my sides and a shrug of my shoulders. “Those boys are her life, and she’s mine.”

This conversation, this confession, and these feelings, all make me anxious. Uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

Add feelings on top of feelings when I don’t want them to.

My cell phone rings and thank fuck for that because shit’s getting heavy. And the only kind of heavy I like is Ry’s weight on top of me.

“Kelly.”

“I’ve found your father.” I freeze. Mind misfires thoughts. Hand stops midway in the air and then drops.

What the fuck did I do this for? Doubt rears its ugly stepsister of a head to let me know she’s still there. Still waiting for me to fuck all of this up.

I can’t speak. All I can do is clear my throat.

“Confirmation should come within the hour. When it does I’ll shoot you over his address in an email.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I let the phone slip from my hand and land with a thud on my desk. I stare at it for a minute. Deciding. Wondering. Avoiding.

You got what you wanted, Donavan.

What are you going to do about it?


Heading to The House. Zander is meeting with his uncle. Just found out and am speeding to get there in time.