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“Ma’am, no one is getting detained or arrested. We simply wanted to remove Mr. Coltridge from the situation before he further harmed himself and his future,” one of the officers clipped out dryly.
They stopped in front of my McLaren, eyeing it appreciatively.
Dylan skidded to a halt next to us, burying Gravity’s face in her neck and holding her daughter’s head tightly. “Is he dead?” Dylan blurted out.
“Unfortunately, no,” one of the police officers said, almost apologetically. It was easy to see everyone shared our revulsion for the man. “They’re handcuffing him right now, and he’ll be transferred to a hospital. He’ll be supervised while he gets treated for his wounds, then moved into county jail. I suggest you lawyer up and find someone really good, because New York prisons are overflowing, and you want this man out of your life.”
Dylan nodded. “I’m going to see to it tonight.”
“You do that. Do you have anyone giving you a ride back home, or do you need one?”
“I’ll take her home,” I said.
As soon as they were out of our hair, I snatched Gravity out of Dylan’s arms and crushed her into a hug. I needed to feel the sensation of the little stinker’s heart beating against mine to calm myself down before I got behind the wheel. I couldn’t explain it. It felt like she’d somehow become an extension of me and that any harm that met her was inflicted directly on me.
“Are you okay, little stinker?” I choked out.
Her small head bobbed against my shoulder. Endorphins flooded my bloodstream. They were both fine. Whatever happened, they were safe.
“Good, baby. Were you scared?”
“Naw,” Gravity mewed with false bravado. “I was brave. Tiger-bikers don’t get scared. Rawr.”
I loosened my grip on her, careful not to hurt her with the might of my love for her.
There was no point denying it now. I hadn’t only fallen in love with Dylan Casablancas—I’d also fallen in love with her daughter, with her life, with her universe. I wanted Dylan to letme in, to make me a part of her world. To share with me the magnificence that was her cosmos.
“Of course you were.” I kissed her cheek. “I had no doubt, buddy.”
Gravity pulled back to look at me, her little arms still wrapped around my neck. “Uncle Rhyrand?”
Please call me daddy. I always thought I’d ask her mom to do that, but now I realized I wanted this from Gravity. To take over the space Tucker had left up for grabs.
“Yes, baby?”
“Mr. Mushroom is dead.” Her lower lip curled, and those big, dark blue eyes shone with tears.
I thumbed the hair away from her face. It was matted by the drying blood of her good-for-nothing sperm donor.
“I had to leave him behind.”
“I’m sorry. Did I ruin it for you?” It was only now, when my hand was in front of my face caressing her, that I realized my knuckles were busted and bloodied, my fingers swollen.
“It’s okay.” She caressed me back, her soft, plump hand running over my face. My heart flared in my chest. “You did it to save me, so I forgive you.”
I tucked Gravity inside her seat in my car, fastening her buckle extra-tight.
On the way back home, I threaded my fingers through Dylan’s, and she let me. I didn’t know if it was because of the adrenaline, the way the night had unfolded, or because she forgave me.
“Did you make it to the song ‘Wildest Dreams?’” I asked, bringing her perfect delicate knuckles to my lips and kissing them.
“I did.”
“And how was it?”
“It was perfect.”
DYLAN