Page 14 of Hearts of Fairlake (Men of Fairlake #8)

IAN

"Sheesh," Bennett muttered beside me. "You'd think there'd be fewer people today, but I think there's more ."

I raised a brow. “Seriously? I expected the second day to be worse."

"Who said anything about worse?"

"Well, for those who aren't thrilled at seeing a bunch of people, having all this noise, or soaking up attention, it's worse. You know, people who aren't you."

He laughed at that because what was he going to say? Bennett was the most extroverted extrovert I’d ever met, and that was after going to college and meeting many different people. And he absolutely, without a doubt, enjoyed the attention he got. Not that it was all that difficult to see why. He was friendly and sociable despite the slight 'threat' that his uniform and badge should have given to some people. It didn't hurt that he was good-looking and had a sense of humor that caught people by surprise at times, and even when they rolled their eyes at his lame jokes, there was usually a smile on their faces.

"You sound like Adam. He always accuses me of being an attention whore," he said with a note of affection in his voice, probably aimed more at his husband than anything else.

"Because you are," I said with a snort. "I'm sure if we asked Trev…Chief Price, you'd hear the same thing from him."

Bennett smirked at me. “Ever since that little incident, you've had a hard time calling him by his title."

'Little incident' was a nice way of saying that my ex had shown up to kidnap my daughter because she suddenly decided she wanted to be a mother and only because she'd found out I was in a relationship with another man. I hadn't been at my best after that and, quite frankly, had fallen apart, as my mother had rightly, if brutally, pointed out. Yet it had been Kyle who had gathered everyone together to try to see if there wasn't something that could be done with combined willpower and skill sets. Turned out he was right, and I had been an ass for shutting him out, a lesson well learned, especially when I got to have Ayla back and watch Isabelle get carted off to prison.

"I try to keep it so I only think of him by his name when I'm off the clock, but there's still some muddling here and there."

"Uh-huh, and what does the Chief think of that? Because you can't tell me you haven't done it to his face."

I grimaced at the reminder. “I have, a few times. He just gives me a look and doesn't say anything."

"Ooh, that 'I'm going to strangle you if you do that again' look?"

"No, Bennett. I'm pretty sure that face isreserved for you...and probably Ethan on occasion," I said with a shake of my head. Not that I would have blamed Trevor. It wasn't exactly a secret that Ethan could be a pain in the ass. Well, and as I knew from personal experience, sometimes being in love meant wanting to throttle your partner in their sleep but knowing you'd miss them the next morning .

"And I'm sure the strangling he wants to do with Ethan is a different kind than with me," Bennett said and then wrinkled his nose. "I hope...do you think they're into breathplay?"

"I don't know what that is," I said, holding my hand up when his mouth opened. “And do not tell me. Thank you."

Bennett, of course, grinned, and I still expected him to tell me, but he stopped, staring into the thick crowd and cocked his head. “Is that...Ayla?"

I followed his line of sight, using what Kyle liked to call 'cop vision' to sort through the crowd and home in on the familiar face of my daughter. She was chatting with a few people, all of whom were guys by the looks of it and guys who were older than her. Not by much, but they were college-aged, and one of them, in particular, chatted quite animatedly as he kept eye contact.

"That it is," I said as I watched him reach up to brush a strand of hair off her shoulder and laugh at something she said.

"You know, you have a very hard face to read sometimes."

"Good to know...but why do you bring that up?"

"Because I can't tell if you're okay with what's happening or if you're wondering if you can get away with using the Taser."

I snorted. “I'm not going to taze them. And I don't want to either."

"So...you're okay with that?"

"Nope," I said with a snort. "But she's an adult and...I trust my daughter. Kyle and I did everything possible to prepare her for when we're not around, and she's always had good sense. I guess she didn't really have a choice in that. She's always needed to have good sense."

As much as I’d tried, it had been impossible to give Ayla the life any child deserved. In many ways, that was my mistake. I should have seen Isabelle for what she truly was long before I accidentally got her pregnant. That would have been the prime moment for me to back out of the relationship before we accidentally dragged a child into this world to deal with having parents like us. And then I should have realized what Isabelle truly was after she'd dragged me back into a relationship under the threat of losing access to my only child, something she'd known full well would work. Maybe then I could have figured out a way to get out of that situation and with my daughter before the damage was done.

I hadn't done any of those things at the proper time. It had taken Isabelle to decide she no longer wanted to even play at the idea of being a mother and disappearing before I could try to put a life together for my daughter. Then we came here, transferring from my original precinct in Denver to be closer to my mother to keep an eye on her, and maybe live in a better, healthier place for Ayla and me.

And the past several years had been spent trying to make up for those mistakes, and with a partner at my side that helped me every step of the way. He was adamant in reminding me that Ayla was a product of not just my screw-ups or Isabelle's monstrous behavior but also the hard work I’d put in to do what was right by her. We'd both tried to give her the space she needed to be her own person while instilling lessons that would help her in her adult years. Kyle had pointed out earlier this year that with adulthood approaching for Ayla, we should dial back on parenting and see how she did while still here to help her.

So, no, I was not thrilled that a pack of college-age guys were flirting with my daughter. Yet I also knew she could easily handle herself in a social situation, and anyone thinking she might be easy 'prey' or a good target was in for a rude awakening. Now, all that would change if things got physical while I was around, but for now, she seemed to be doing just fine, and the guys were behaving themselves .

Bennett grunted. “Yeah, I guess that's a good point. She's always been good about taking care of herself. That's something to be proud of."

"Yeah, well, she didn't have much choice," I repeated with a sigh. "You do realize you're going to have to deal with this sort of thing one day, right?"

"Honestly, I don't know which of the three I'm going to worry the most about when it comes to dating," Bennett groaned. "Adam doesn't even talk about it. I think he's pretending it's not a problem."

"Well, there's not really a good reason to worry about things when they're not a problem or a problem that's even close to showing up yet," I said with a shrug.

"Ugh, you sound like Adam."

"And you sound like Kyle. I suppose every relationship has to have someone who worries about everything and someone who's more laid back. Though I'll be honest if I had to guess which of the two you were, I wouldn't have guessed the worrier."

Bennett sighed at that. “Yeah, well, having kids to care for will do that to you. I used to think I was pretty chill, and then suddenly, I have these three little creatures to take care of. Now the whole world scares the shit out of me. I try not to show it, but?—"

I could only smile in understanding. “I remember that feeling all too well. You think you've got a pretty good handle on life and the world, and then suddenly you've got a kid. Now, you have to look at the world in a whole new way. What things do you take for granted that a kid isn't going to know about? I remember trying to keep Ayla safe when she was your kids' age. They're like suicidal drunk people at the age, and I do not miss it."

Bennett laughed. “Bri said that one time, and when I pointed out she would have chewed me out if I said something like that about her kids, I'm pretty sure she was ready to string me up by my ankles. I love her to pieces, but she can be scary sometimes. I asked Adam if she was always like that, and when he said yes, I told him that probably used to turn him on."

"I think it says something about you that I'm not surprised in the slightest...and he probably wasn't either."

"Yeah, he just sighed and shook his head. But I want to point out that he didn't deny it either."

"Yes, because trying to fight you on something when you've got it stuck in your head is a great way to solve the problem," I said with a roll of my eyes. I was still keeping an eye on my daughter, but she seemed to be doing just fine. I couldn't tell if she was noticing that the guy kept getting into her space, but for someone who was really particular about her personal space, I doubted she didn't notice. So either she was enjoying the attention, which was understandable but uncomfortable as a parent, or she was letting the guy have his fun without letting it go too far. He wouldn't know, but the latter was far more dangerous for his ego than the former would ever be. Ayla had inherited my brains, but she had her grandmother's tongue and could shred all but the toughest of egos with relative ease.

"Eh, he knew what he was getting into," Bennett said with a shrug. "It's the same sort of thing I would have teased him about before he decided he liked my naked body."

"That...is one way to put it," I said with a shake of my head. "Not really a good way, but it's certainly one way."

"Thanks!"

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I'm choosing to take it as one."

"Of course."

"Alright, I should probably go patrol around. If there's this much energy before the sun has even started to set, there's probably plenty of booze flowing, and we know how people get in crowds with too much alcohol. I hope I don't have to arrest another naked person."

"Another?"

"It's...a long story. And from a different celebration. I try not to think about it too much. That was weird, even for me."

"I think weird just follows you around. Like attracting like."

"Probably."

God, even when you were trying to give him shit, Bennett could roll with it in a self-aware way that wasn't self-deprecating. I'd probably come off as arrogant or pathetic if I tried to pull off the same trick. Kyle was pretty good at sounding self-deprecating but in a way that always made people laugh rather than be concerned or put off by it. Again, it was a trick I’d never learned and wasn't going to.

"Well, howdy stranger," a new voice piped up, and I turned to see Annie standing nearby, a canvas bag hanging from her elbow. She had recently cut her hair, and I wondered when that had been done.

"Huh, I thought that style was...well, out of style," I said as I eyed the way the tips of her hair curled outward.

"Yes, but a style can always be brought back if it looks good on someone."

"And do you think it does?"

She narrowed her eyes. “For someone who raised a girl, you're not particularly good at talking to them."

"Which is why I'm married to a man," I said with a smirk. "And I ask because I learned a long time ago that people, especially women, get these sorts of radical changes done because they want them and want to feel good. Not because they're trying to impress someone. So I'm just asking if you're happy with it. "

"Ah, so someone has taught you," she said with a chuckle. "Sometimes I can't be sure."

"I also need to point out that if Kyle had said that, you would have laughed, called him a name, and said that you looked great, whatever he might think."

"Yes, but that's Kyle. You are something else entirely."

"How?"

"Like being a cop."

I rolled my eyes. “Bennett's a cop too, but you don't give him shit for it."

"Sure I do," she turned toward where Bennett had stopped to talk to Trevor for a moment. "Hey, Bennett, do I give you shit about being a cop?"

"Hell, yeah, fuck the police," he said, pumping his arm in the air only to get smacked in the back of the head by the chief. Which, of course, made Annie and I laugh as Bennett immediately launched a pout that worked and yet didn’t. As much as Trevor tried his best not to let Bennett get to him, even he wasn't immune to Bennett's unique...charms.

"Fine, you do give him shit," I said with a shrug. "But I feel obligated to point out that you seem to like cops just fine since you're dating one from Fovel."

She grinned. “Remember what Bennett just said?"

"Yeah, he said fuck the...gross," I said, wrinkling my nose. "That's like hearing my little sister talk about sex."

"Well, that's your problem, isn't it? Because I'm sure as hell not suffering," she said with a laugh. "Also, your husband sent me on a mission to ensure everyone working out here gets plenty of fluids. So I come bearing a gift."

I snorted, taking the bottle of water from her. “I'm surprised he's not sending you around to offer water to the people drinking after the day he had yesterday."

She shrugged. “That's next on his agenda, I think. He's been talking about being 'proactive,' which either means, yeah, I'm going to be coaxing drunk people to drink something other than alcohol, or he's going to go out and start shoving saline IVs into people's veins."

"Is that what he threatened?" I asked in amusement.

"Yeah, I told him that wouldn't do a whole lot of good and was probably illegal, and he pointed out that he can have the bags dosed with anti-nausea medicine to prevent what happened yesterday."

At that, I could only slowly blink before feeling a little uneasy. "Okay, that...isn't great."

"He was kidding," Annie said with a roll of her eyes and then paused, looking thoughtful. "Wasn't...he?"

"Probably," I said. "But when he starts putting thought into these wild plans of his, I get a little nervous because it generally means he's actually thinking through how to do it. Which is way too much energy for something that should just be bitching and moaning."

"Well, in that case, why don't you go make sure he's not about to get arrested," Annie said with a wince. "I mean, I'm sure being handcuffed by you isn't exactly new to him, but?—"

"Alright, enough," I said, looking up at the sky and wondering what I’d done in a previous life to deserve the people I was forced to deal with. "I'll go make sure the heat and stress haven't baked his brain in his skull."

Not that I believed Kyle would do something like that, he was a professional. He believed in the part of his job aimed at helping people and keeping them healthy. That would not cover running around and sticking them with IVs full of medicine that would make his life easier. At the same time, I knew when Kyle got a bug up his ass and started acting out, anything could happen. He wouldn't begin dosing people, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be a scene.

"Uhh...Chief?" I muttered as I slid closer to him and Bennett. "I'm going to the First Aid tent to make sure we're not about to have a...meltdown."

His brow furrowed together. “Kyle?"

"Yes, sir."

"Right, he looked a little twitchy when I saw him this morning. Bad?"

"Not like...in need of police intervention bad, but maybe a little husband intervention. I just realized he hasn't texted me in a while, and that's...not great."

"Right, go make sure nothing happens. We've got a few more hours of this, and nothing significant has happened...other than what was in the plan. I want to keep it that way. If your husband ruins that, your ass is what's going on the line, got it?"

"Yes, sir," I said, this time with a sigh. At least now, if I needed to calm Kyle down, I would have a round in the chamber. I didn't doubt there were days he wanted to throw me off a cliff, but he would never intentionally get me into trouble...professionally, anyway. I had no doubt if he was feeling spicy enough, he’d get me in trouble with Trevor in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the job but just to screw with me.

I walked away from the two of them, glancing over to see Ayla still talking with the guys, but she had put some distance between herself and the one who’d been showing her the most attention. When our eyes met, I raised my brow and tapped the gun on my hip with a smirk. She rolled her eyes and quickly signed 'not yet,' which made me laugh. I told her I loved her and was going to the first aid tent. Our little conversation caught the attention of the guy pushing his luck, and he looked around in confusion, obviously having no idea how to translate the ASL she’d flown through without hesitation. He saw me and looked me over before turning to ask a question I couldn't hear, but when Ayla smirked, I saw her lips move, 'My dad.'

Which would have been fine, except it made the guy take half a step away from her, making Ayla laugh, and I knew then that no matter what else he tried, he had just lost any chance to impress Ayla like he’d been trying to do. She was already difficult to impress, but she had precisely zero patience or interest in someone who’d be scared off by the sheer presence of one of her dads, even if said dad was an armed police officer who’d clearly been paying attention to them.

Despite her independent nature, I had to trust she’d ask for help if a situation got out of her control. On the other hand, even if she didn't, plenty of witnesses and officers were around to step in if need be. But as I'd just told Bennett, there was no point fretting about something just because it could happen, especially when there were several obstacles in the way of anything happening. I needed to be worried about what my dear, sweet, not-at-all-ill-tempered husband might be doing, especially if today was turning out anything like yesterday.

There didn't seem to be a crowd around the tent when I arrived, but that wasn't necessarily a good sign. What I was taking as a good sign was that I wasn't hearing any shouting or barking of orders from inside, and no one around the tent seemed all that alarmed. So I stepped through and glanced around to find the place still intact, and the patients seemed to be resting peacefully or sipping water.

Kyle appeared from behind a curtain, his hair sticking out in several directions, telling me he'd been anxiously running his hands through it. It gave him a slightly crazed look that made me smile because it was also the way his hair looked when he was freshly woken up...and after a good bout of sex. I watched as his head snapped up when he saw someone new standing at the entrance to the tent. His shoulders relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Wait," he said, looking me over. "You're not hurt, right?"

"Not hurt, not sick, don't even have a headache."

"Good, because I don't think I have it in me to deal with you and a headache."

"I...what about me with a headache?"

"I love you to pieces, ," Kyle began because anything that followed that phrase would always be complimentary. "But the minute you’re in pain, you become the world's biggest baby."

"I've been shot and stabbed," I protested. "And I didn't make a fuss."

"Yes, thank you for reminding me," he said with a sigh, pinching his nose. "And that's injuries in the line of duty. But other, normal everyday injuries? You're useless, no, you're worse than useless. You're the thing that drains all usefulness out of a situation as you lay supposedly dying."

"That's dramatic...and rude."

"Please, the last time you got a moderately bad bug, you lay in bed and groaned like a starving Victorian child dying from the plague."

"Pretty sure those were two different time periods."

"Influenza then. Consumption. Whatever you want to call it."

"This from the man who turns into a demonic bear if he has to go more than twenty-four hours without caffeine." No, that was not as much of an exaggeration as it sounded. Even my mother behaved herself around Kyle when he went too long without. It seemed there were some things on this Earth that even my mother had a begrudging respect for. Admittedly, it was a little scary.

"And may I point out," he said as if I hadn't just made a good point, "that you passed that annoying little tendency to your daughter."

"I like how she's my daughter whenever she's in trouble or you're bitching about her, but she's our daughter otherwise."

"Because I know damn well she's going to get halfway through her first semester of college and end up calling me to whine and cry about some bug she caught at the disease factory known as campus. And I'm going to have to tell her it's time she puts on her big girl pants and take care of herself because I'm not driving out of my way to go take care of her because she's got the flu."

"Wow, you are...very worked up today. Would it get me killed if I said it's kind of hot?"

Kyle stopped and looked at me in confusion and annoyance. “Are you kidding me? There's the shittiest circulation in this tent, so I'm covered in sweat, and there's no flooring, so I'm covered in dirt too. I'm beyond irritated, half crazy at the moment. I probably still smell of stale alcohol and booze from a puking incident earlier, which, by the way, thank God they haven't been as bad today. And fuck knows, I slept like absolute shit last night, and I swear to fucking God, if Fred tries to do something this big again, there is no way in hell I'm doing this shit alone like I have been doing, or basically alone anyway. And I hope you're prepared to arrest me if it happens because I will end up on the news if he tries to say otherwise."

Some people wouldn't understand it, but this was one of the reasons I loved him to the ends of the earth. He had never been able to understand it, but there was something unbelievably charming about listening to him lose his shit while still having his shit together. I'd watched him have a 'meltdown' much like this before while he carefully made sure to keep a man's innards inside him while they were loading him up for the ambulance ride. It was his way of letting off steam while maintaining control and focus on the task at hand.

Well, maybe I thought it was cute because he could be so friendly and pleasant with people until his temper rose and lashed out wildly, if harmlessly, all over the place.

"Get that look off your face," he snapped, jabbing a finger in my direction.

"What look?" I asked innocently.

"The one that says, 'Aww, he's so cute right now' and 'Aww, I love him so much.' I'm not in the mood."

"You're not in the mood for me to find you cute and think I love you?"

"I'm not in the mood for you to patronize me with facial expressions while I'm trying to put out several fires with minimal help."

"Doesn't patronizing require me to say something?"

"Yes, so stop looking at me in that tone of voice."

Which, of course, only made me laugh even harder. “But I do think you're cute, and I do love you."

"Yeah, well, I don't like you very much right now."

I took hold of him, knowing he was being a dirty little liar when he didn't fight me as I pulled him close to me and kissed him atop his head. “Seriously though, you okay in here?"

He sighed, leaning forward to press his forehead against my shoulder. “More or less. It's just been a lot, and Annie can only do so much when she's here. I've got to handle all the actual treatment on my own, and it's just...a lot."

"Dare I ask if you’ve talked to the mayor about this?"

"That absolute fuck told me I seemed to have a handle on things."

"And you told him you were going to get a handle on his throat?"

"I...damn, am I getting predictable? "

I snickered. “It just struck me as something you'd say."

"I'm choosing to take that to mean you've gotten that good at understanding me rather than me being predictable. I'm not ready to deal with the idea of the second thing," he said, wincing and placing a hand on his lower back. "And can I just say I'm not getting any younger...as my back has been intent on reminding me."

"Those mean old forties have crept up on you," I told him with a smile, which only made him scowl because he hated when I teased him while he complained...and I believed he secretly liked it too. But this was Kyle we were talking about, he wasn't going to admit that so long as he could draw breath to deny it.

"The only thing mean and old around here is me," he grumbled and sighed, knowing how ridiculous he sounded. "Fine, not old, but older."

I chuckled, running my hand through his hair and ignoring him when he grumbled about me making it worse because we both knew his mad scientist hair wouldn't get any worse. "Doesn't look like you're getting any grays yet, so maybe you're still on the younger side."

"I'd make a comment that it's not the same for you, but you don't care about your gray hair."

"It helps when my husband likes to run his hands through my hair, extolling the virtues of those grays."

"Maybe," he agreed begrudgingly. "But you're dealing with aging just fine."

"I wouldn't say that," I chuckled, looking him over. "When I first saw those gray hairs, I was not happy. I plucked the first fewanddid that for a few months whenever I spotted one."

He looked up at me in surprise. “Seriously? You never told me that."

"Probably because the first time you spotted them, you kept running your hands through my hair and made me late for my shift," I reminded him, also remembering we were in public and 'jumped me and gave me a blowjob in the hallway' was probably not something I should be sharing with the world.

His eyes lit up at the reminder, and he grinned. “Oh yeah, I remember. I didn't know you'd been hiding your gray hairs, though."

"You should know better than anyone else that I don't deal with everything as gracefully or as calmly as I'd like to have people believe," I said with a shrug. "I'm not immune to feeling the passage of time creeping up on me."

"Time is very much linear," he said with a snort, reaching up to slip his hand over the top of my head. "For the record, I do love your gray hairs."

"I gathered as much," I said wryly, trying not to focus too hard on the memory of the first time he'd expressed appreciation. The uniform pants were nice, but they weren't exactly the best at keeping secrets.

"No, I mean," he glanced around and saw no one close but still dropped his voice. "When I wasn't so busy hating you for what happened."

"Which I've repeatedly apologized for."

"We're married, pretty sure I'm over it," he snorted. "The point is, even when we weren't together, and I wasn't stuck on being pissed off at you, sometimes all I could think about was the future I’d wanted with you from pretty much the third month of dating you. And then it started all over again when you showed up in Fairlake, taking me by surprise. Even when I was furious at seeing you again, I still thought about what it would be like to wake up next to you."

"Which sounds romantic in theory, but I recall you made Ayla laugh earlier this week by threatening to strangle me in my sleep with the socks I leave on the floor every night. "

"I also threatened to whip you to death with the wet towels you kept leaving on our wood furniture ."

"A threat you'll note, I took with the seriousness intended. The socks, though? Not so much."

"My point," he said with enough emphasis that I didn't need to be told to shut up and stop ruining his moment, "was that I also dreamed of moments like that, where I could see proof that we were getting older, together . And that morning, when I saw those gray hairs on you, I remember thinking, 'Wow, it happened. We're together, and I'm seeing this happen.' And honestly? It ranks right up there with you making me cry at our goddamn wedding with those vows of yours."

"You were the one who insisted on writing our own vows. You wanted them to mean something."

"Yeah, well, I guess I wasn't expecting you to pull that shit out. I think I made the ugliest noise when you whipped out, 'I didn't realize how badly I'd broken my life until I broke your heart, but you gave me a chance to fix it, and now I find my life and my heart have been healed,’ and then looked me dead in the eyes. Thanks for that, asshole."

"Of course, you remember it word for word," I chuckled, cupping his face. "I meant every word, then and now."

"Stop," he complained, but I could see the smile on his face and the color rising on his cheeks. "Don't get me going in public. Bad enough that I got all emotional in front of everyone at the wedding."

"Yes, yes," I said, knowing full well that my tone would make him scowl because I was clearly trying to placate him. Kyle would forever be the man who needed to be placated sometimes but despised knowing he was being. I had to be more subtle about it. Ironically, purposefully trying to irritate him with obvious placation was an effective tool at my disposal, as long as some of his sense of humor was still alive and well. "I'll behave."

"For the moment," he said, then looked around, sighing. "I guess today hasn't been that bad. Just a lot thrown at me at once when, in all reality, I would have wanted it to be with all of us out there with everyone else. Except you're out there on a mandatory shift, and I'm locked away in here."

"Ayla seems to be enjoying herself."

"Well, that's good, at least."

"She's been getting hit on by a guy I'm pretty sure is old enough to drink."

Kyle's eyes widened. “What? And you did...nothing?"

"I had a bit of fun," I chuckled. "But she was handling things just fine."

A complicated set of emotions warped his features before he let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know...I'm aware that I was the one who said we needed to dial things back for her and start letting her have a true taste of freedom, but that's...I don't like that."

"I wasn't exactly clicking my heels together," I admitted in a grumble. "But we've trusted her to take care of herself up to this point. And we can't change our minds now. Especially when she hasn't done anything wrong."

"Can I just say how weird it is that she was getting hit on by someone probably the age you and I were when we first met?"

That made me back up mentally and stare at him. “Well, I was more focused on the idea of a college-aged man hitting on my daughter, but thank you for making me even more aware of the passage of time and how I’m getting older."

That made him laugh because, of course, it did. "It is kind of weird to think about, isn't it?"

"Weird isn't the word I’d use. Uncomfortable. Horrible. Terrifying. Dread instilling. All those words work a lot better, but weird? No, it's not weird for me."

"Careful," he warned with a warm chuckle. "I don't need someone trying to take the crown of most dramatic person in this relationship from me."

Which wasn't exactly fair considering I wasn't immune to being dramatic, though only when I felt utterly overwhelmed by things happening in our lives. Kyle was dramatic whenever he was stressed but refused to operate like I did and instead let his displeasure at life's events be known in the most direct and easily understood way possible. In many ways, his being expressive, even as often and sudden as it could be, was far healthier than my tendency to lock things down tight inside my head and deal with them when I had the chance...if that chance ever came, because sometimes things just stayed locked up.

"I'll be sure not to do it too often. I wouldn't want to risk having to fight you over the title," I told him, mouth opening to continue the joke and then stopping, mouth hanging open as I strained to listen.

"What is it?" Kyle asked, his voice devoid of his previous annoyance or the growing humor I'd managed to bring back. I'd seen that look before whenever something serious happened that he felt he needed to pay attention to, which meant my sudden alarm was showing on my face.

"The crowd," I said softly and listened even more closely to the sounds outside the tent. Nearby was the normal babble and barks of laughter I'd heard all day, but even that sounded like it was starting to die down. I now realized that quieting was what had initially caused me to pause, but it was the sounds coming from a distance that had truly got my attention.

Shouting .

"Oh," Kyle said, eyes going wide. "Is that?—"

I didn't need him to finish that question any more than he needed to. Even at a distance, we could tell it was Ayla shouting. As the crowd around us grew quieter, having heard the commotion, it only made my daughter's fear all the more apparent.

Later, I wouldn't remember leaving the tent or bursting through the crowd like a bulldozer. Kyle would later say he’d never seen me act in such a way, barely paying attention to anyone as I shoved my way through the crowd toward the sound of my daughter. All I would remember was my daughter's voice, higher pitched in fear than I had ever heard it before and with a desperation I never wanted to hear again.

I reached the source of the confusion and stopped dead in my tracks, heart thundering in my chest as I pushed through the crowd of people in disbelief. Ayla was standing only a few yards away, facing the crowd, her face screwed up in a mixture of fear and fury I'd never seen before. She was held tight by another person, pinned by an arm that refused to let her loose as she snarled and snapped in her frustration and rage.

"Isabelle," I hissed, reaching not for the Taser in my belt but the gun.

Prison had not been kind to my ex, but I doubted she’d been any kinder to it while in there. Her hair had thinned, and the streaks of white and gray were even more apparent than mine. Lines that had barely been there before had gone even deeper into her skin, and there was a scar on her forehead that I belated realized must have come from when she'd crashed her car trying to escape the cops after kidnapping Ayla.

If I had thought the young woman I'd known and had genuinely loved once was gone before, there wasn't the slightest trace of her now. Instead, there was this...creature, skin as haggard as her face but with more hate and rage inside her than should ever exist in one person. Now she was here, holding my daughter hostage, arm wrapped awkwardly around Ayla's chest and up toward her neck, the other holding a knife against her side.

"Ayla!" I barked. "Don't!"

"Dad!" she said, and her eyes were wide and wet, her voice cracking like it used to do in that first year after Isabelle had left, and Ayla would wake in the middle of the night having had a nightmare that her mother had returned, killing me and then trying to do the same thing before she could wake up. I could remember holding my sobbing, six-year-old daughter on those nights, heart breaking for her, and a hatred that took forever to die festering in my heart.

Except now I realized that sometimes hate didn't always die. Sometimes, it found a nice dark place to curl up and sleep. Perhaps it would have stayed deep asleep if it had never been given a reason to wake, only occasionally fitfully dreaming whenever I remembered all this woman had put us through. But now she was here, a weapon held to my daughter's side, ready to try to take what had never been hers to possess in the first place.

"Don't," Isabelle hissed, and for a moment the knife wavered, and I knew it wasn't doubt on her part. No, I would bet she was wishing desperately we were closer so she could use that knife on me. I would be hard-pressed to guess who she was more furious at, Ayla for spurning her when Isabelle finally decided to come back, or me for standing in the way of what she wanted when she finally wanted it. Or perhaps she hated me more for the pure fact that I’d once scared her so badly she’d realized she couldn't terrorize me like she once had. "Don't you fucking dare! "

"Jesus fucking Christ," Kyle hissed beside me. "Where the fuck did she come from?"

"Shut your mouth," Isabelle snapped, knife twitching again at the sight of Kyle. It seemed there was enough hate inside her for Kyle as well, though I wasn't surprised. It had been my relationship with him that had compelled her to kidnap Ayla years ago. I had never got the full explanation as to why, but she’d let out a few slurs to let me know she was not comfortable with gay relationships. Then again, Isabelle had long since proven she didn't need to justify her hatred for something or someone. She was simply glad to have the opportunity.

I looked over the crowd that had backed away, either out of fear of the weapon or of accidentally causing Isabelle to use the weapon on Ayla. Officers showed up, with Bennett to my left near the small stall Isabelle was using to brace her back and Trevor opposite him. Others were there as well, but the grim look on Bennett's face caught my attention the most. I had never seen him look so serious, and I was reminded of the only time Bennett had been forced to use his sidearm to save someone else's life.

"I suppose shooting her is out of the question," Kyle muttered beside me, and I could feel the anger rolling off him in palpable waves that I swore, if possible, would have scorched the grass around us.

"I would in a heartbeat...if I could," I admitted, not caring one bit that it would result in the loss of life. Isabelle had already proven she wouldn't stop, no matter what was put into her path. Even being thwarted once and thrown into prison hadn't convinced her she should leave us all alone. Now, she had gone beyond just kidnapping Ayla. She was threatening my daughter with a weapon. I supposed it was technically our daughter, and it should have angered me that she was willing to hurt her own daughter, but I already knew Isabelle was long past that sort of humanity.

"Reiner," a voice hissed in my ear, and it took me a moment to realize it was Chief Price speaking over the radio. "You're not the one to handle this."

"Isabelle," I called again, raising my hands and ignoring the cursing over the radio. There was no doubt I would catch holy hell for it later, but right now, all that mattered was that my daughter needed me. "What're you doing here? What's the point of all this?"

"You think…" she said as if she was out of breath, which, for all I knew, she was. I didn't imagine she had easily gotten her hands on Ayla. The only reason she had probably gotten close to Ayla, other than the crowds and Ayla's guard was down, was that Isabelle didn't look like herself. If I hadn't been looking her dead in the eyes without distractions, my gaze might have passed over her with only a small tingle of discomfort and confusion before moving on. "That you can just...take everything from me? That you get to live your sick little life and leave me to rot?"

"You did that to yourself, you stupid, selfish bitch!" Ayla snarled, the fear gone from her eyes as she fought with sudden force. Kyle hissed beside me but stayed in place as Isabelle managed to keep her grip, but if the look on her face was any indication, that was a hard-won victory. "And you're going back to fucking prison!"

"Is that any way to speak to your mother?" Isabelle growled between clenched teeth, and my eyes widened when I saw the knife twitch, forcing Ayla to still. I didn't know for sure if the blade had penetrated, as my daughter gave no indication, but it was enough to get her attention and make her stop flailing against her mother's hold.

"You," Ayla began with a heaving chest, “are the woman who gave birth to me, that's it. You...were never my mother, not even when you were around."

"Isabelle," I said in a forceful voice that swiftly stopped their discussion. There was enough authority in my voice that they promptly looked at me. "What are you doing here? What is it you want after all this time?"

Her eyes darted around madly, and I knew the sight of an animal trapped and looking for its exit. Before coming to Fairlake, I’d dealt with my fair share of criminals and desperate people in Denver. It was the same look in their eyes when they realized they were caught, cornered, and had almost zero chance of getting out of a situation without ending up in cuffs, the hospital, or the morgue. It was also the sort of realization that could destroy what little resistance the person had left or drive them to even worse desperation.

And if I were a betting man, I would bet Isabelle was the second type.

"She says I'm not her mother, but listen to that mouth," Isabelle said with a snort. "She's got my temper, that's for sure."

"You're not the only one responsible for that," I reminded her without thinking what I was saying.

Her gaze drifted to where my hand was resting on my gun. “Gonna shoot me, ?"

"I really hope you don't bring it to that," I said, knowing Trevor was making sure the other officers were moving people away from behind Isabelle in case it did come to that. The stall Isabelle was pinned against was one of the many food shops circled around a small clearing, and I could still hear the food sizzling away on the grills somewhere behind her. Hopefully, the stall runners had managed to get away safely. I didn't know if I'd be able to live with myself if someone got hurt because of her .

"Oh c'mon, we both know you'd love to," she said, her eyes sliding over to Kyle, making her lip curl. "Though your little fairy boyfriend looks like he wants to do it instead."

"Fairy boyfriend? She sounds like a nineties teen movie bully," Kyle muttered.

Isabelle couldn't hear him, I didn't think, but she clearly knew when she wasn't being taken seriously, and she yanked Ayla with her. All of us were forced to watch as she dragged my daughter behind the stall. For a moment, I thought she was reaching for a weapon she had stowed away, but my motions to quickly shuffle around and get eyes on her stopped when I saw the lighter in her hand and a mangled-looking cigarette in the other that she lit.

"I want...what's mine," Isabelle said, setting the lighter on the counter. She had to use the hand holding Ayla to smoke, but that didn't seem to deter her as she made sure to keep the lit end of the cigarette dangling near Ayla's face.

"There is nothing here for you, nothing that's yours," I told her. I was torn between the rage rolling and seething inside me and the sheer terror of my daughter being in this disaster. Never in all my life had I felt as helpless and useless as I did then while my ex held our daughter hostage, smoking dangerously close to what I knew had to be propane tanks for the grills.

"You act like you're better than me, always have," she said, and I didn't like how calm she was now. She was surrounded, not just by the crowd, but by several cops, and there were plenty of officers around to catch her if she tried to escape. She should have had no reason to be calm suddenly. "All because...you've got this perfect life? Fucked up as it is."

"You had your chance to be part of my life...repeatedly," I told her in a calm voice, even as my anger bubbled higher and higher. "In Ayla and my lives. You didn't want it, and now you're...what? Going to try to take it? Going to destroy what's here? You know that can't work out for you, there's too many people, too many cops."

"So many pigs around," she said with a roll of her eyes, her body jerking as she kicked out in anger, hitting something beside her.

"Are you guys...going to do anything?" Kyle asked softly. "She's up to something, and I don't like her being up to something."

"She's always up to something," I said grimly. "But you're right."

"Dad, she…" Ayla began and then winced when Isabelle's hand twitched again.

"Shut it," Isabelle snarled. "No need to ruin the surprise."

I didn't know what the chief had in mind because the radios had gone silent, probably because they'd switched to another channel. I would be out of the loop because Isabelle's focus was purely on me, and the slightest movement from me could potentially provoke her. The only thing I could hope was that whatever they had in mind would settle this without anyone getting hurt. Well, anyone innocent, that was. I wasn't concerned if Isabelle ended up hurt again. She had done all this and if the consequences found her, then all the better.

"Plenty of them to roast," she said, shoving Ayla forward and sending her careening over the back of the stall she'd positioned them behind. Ayla flailed as she tried to catch herself, but she’d been caught by surprise and had no time to recover. She flipped over the shelf and landed on the ground with a grunt. I was moving before I knew what I was doing, and I barely paid attention as Isabelle reached for something, and I heard the Chief yell at me to stop.

Ayla was already pushing to her feet to throw her arms out as she yelled. “The tanks, she...opened the tanks! Run!"

I caught up to my daughter just in time to connect the dots and look up at Isabelle. The silver lighter was in her hand, lit and tossed upward, spiraling through the air in a graceful, smooth arc. Only then did I realize I could hear the hissing of the tanks she had probably kicked earlier.

Shouts erupted as some made the same connection, but none felt as loud as the one that bellowed up out of my chest as I yanked Ayla to her feet. “Run!"