Page 11

Chapter eleven

Patrick

The heater’s blowing full blast, drying my eyes out and making my fingers sweat against the wheel. Brenda Lee hums low through the crackle of my stereo, but I barely hear it.

All I can think about is her.

Levana. Spread out beneath me like she’d never been touched before. All soft, all open, all mine. She couldn’t stop herself. Didn’t even want to. Just me take her, let me keep taking her, over and over again to the point she was sore, and still wanted more.

She couldn’t resist me if she tried.

This is so fucking perfect. Everything’s going to plan.

Fifty-five minutes into the drive home, my phone buzzes in the cup holder. I check it at the lights.

Levana.

Missing you already.

I smile, biting it back when I catch my own reflection in the mirror.

See? This is meant to be. She’s finally getting it.

I turn down the narrow lane, tires crunching over scattered leaves. The house appears slowly, tucked behind a wall of skeletal trees. A modest two storey place with a deep porch, half-hidden in shadow. The paint’s dull now, flaking in patches, and the shutters hang crooked in places. I keep telling myself I’ll sort it out, hire someone in to fix it up, clear the gutters, maybe tame the overgrown grass that’s turned brittle and pale. But I never get around to it.

The porch light burned out months ago. I make a mental note to change the bulb, but I know I’ll forget. Not on purpose, not really, but when everything started unraveling, the house just seemed to slip with it.

I kill the engine and sit for a moment, watching the wind stir the dead leaves across the yard, bracing myself for the inevitable shit storm I’m about to face.

The porch steps creak underfoot as I head inside. I wince and shake it off as I step over the threshold, and nudge the door closed behind me.

“What the hell, Patrick?”

“What?” I sigh as I shrug off my coat and hang it up.

“You know what.”

“No, I don’t,” I mutter. “Please, enlighten me.”

I head down the hall toward the kitchen, jaw tight.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m doing what I said I’d do,” I shoot back, pausing in the doorway. “You said it was fine, so don’t start with me.”

She’s standing by the counter, arms crossed. “Fine is not the same as okay.”

I exhale hard through my nose as I head to the fridge. “Well, I’m not in the mood to argue about semantics right now, alright?”

“You’re gone all the time,” she says. “This would be a great time to argue about it.”

I grab a loaf of bread and a knife, and start making a sandwich. Anything to keep my hands busy.

“It’s not all the time, Mara.”

“It is, Patrick.”

I set the knife down and lean back against the counter, looking at her properly. The tension in her face, the tired pull around her eyes, the way her hair’s half-tucked behind her ears like she didn’t have the energy to finish getting ready this morning. She’s wearing one of those big, shapeless sweatshirts that’s stretched out at the cuffs, the kind she always pulls on when she’s too exhausted to bother with anything else.

“I’m sorry, I just…” I shake my head. “I need her, Mara. You said I should find her—you told me I should.”

Her arms stay crossed, but her eyes soften just a little.

“I know,” she says. “I know, Patrick. But you’re never here anymore. You’re not helping out, you’re taking time off work constantly. You’re gone before I’m up half the time, and when you do come home…”

She swallows hard and presses her lips together. “We need you too. I need you. The kids…”

She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t have to.

I feel the cold crush of it in my ribs.

I should be here more. Should be home, helping, fixing things, cleaning things, being the person they need me to be.

But Levana…

I can’t lose her. I can’t lose what we’re so close to having.

“I’ll fix it,” I say. “I just need a little more time.”

“You keep saying that.” Her voice dips. “But Patrick, this isn’t just about you.”

“I know. I know. But I promise you. Soon, she’ll be a Dalton. She’ll be here to help, okay?”

“You’re that sure?” She asks, brows lifting.

“Yes,” I say, firm. “I’m that sure.”

Because how could I not be?

It’s happening. It’s all happening.

I step forward, reaching for her arm, but she doesn’t move. “For god’s sake. Come here.”

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her in tight. At first, she’s stiff as a board, her shoulders hard and sharp beneath my hands, but then she blows out a heavy breath and relaxes, folding herself into me.

“Sorry,” she mumbles into my chest. “I’m just tired.”

I’m pressing a kiss to the top of her head when the girls come flying into the kitchen like twin whirlwinds, all tangled hair and stomping feet, barreling straight into us before I can even react.

“Whoa!” I grunt, staggering back a step as I grab hold of them both, one arm wrapping around each little body to steady them. “Easy, easy! You’re gonna send Mommy and Daddy flying.”

Mally’s giggling wildly, her face half-buried in Mara’s side, and Dolly’s clutching my leg like she’s trying to climb me.

“You okay?” I ask Mara, giving her a sheepish look.

She huffs out a laugh and smooths Mally’s curls back from her face.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “I’m okay.”

For a second, it feels like old times—like before everything cracked and crumbled.

“I missed you, Daddy!” Dolly says, voice all high and breathless.

“Me too, me too!” Mally pipes up, bouncing on her toes. “The most!”

“Oh yeah?” I grin down at them. “I dunno… I think I missed you the most.”

“Not possible!” Mally declares, grinning so wide her cheeks puff up like a chipmunk. “I missed you the mostest!”

Dolly gasps dramatically, spinning to look at her sister like she’s just been gravely insulted. “Nuh-uh! I missed him the mostest!”

“I did!”

“Nooo, me!”

“Alright, alright!” I laugh, crouching down and pulling them both in. “I’ll tell you what… hmmm… we all miss each other the mostest. How ‘bout that?”

They seem satisfied with that answer for now, but Mally wriggles out of my arms and pouts at me.

“You were gone so long,” she says with a tiny furrow between her brows. “Mommy said you were working, but I said you were with your girlfriend.”

I freeze for half a second, and Mara’s smile falters.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, keeping my voice light. “And what do you know about that?”

“She’s real pretty,” Mally says confidently, like she’s met Levana herself. “That’s what I think.”

“She nice?” Dolly asks quietly from her spot on my hip, her little fingers curled in my shirt.

“She’s…” I swallow down the tightness creeping up my throat and press a kiss to Dolly’s temple.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “Yeah, baby. She’s real nice.”

Mara’s watching me again, arms folded tight across her chest. I know what she’s thinking—that I’m setting myself up for failure. But she’s wrong.

I give Dolly one more squeeze and meet her eyes over the girls’ heads.

“You’ll all meet her soon.” My voice drops lower. “And I just know, you’re gonna love her.”

“Is she gonna love us ?” Mally asks, her voice muffled against my shirt.

I press a kiss into her hair. “She sure is, baby.”