Page 11 of Held-

“Yes, you did,” I cut him off. “But it doesn't matter. The toys are yours. Do whatever you want with them.”

I turn to my brothers, jerking my head toward the door. “We're done here.”

“But—” Cece starts.

“Enjoy your Christmas,” I tell her, already moving toward the exit. I don't need this shit. Don't need to stand here and let some holy roller make me feel like I'm still that troubled kid who had a thing for his daughter.

Domino follows me without question, the others falling in line behind him. That's the thing about brotherhood—they might give me hell, but they've got my back when it counts.

I'm halfway to the door when she catches up to me.

“Brayden, wait.” Her hand lands on my arm, and I stop despite every instinct telling me to keep walking. “Please.”

I turn, and the look on her face makes something twist in my chest. There's genuine distress there, mixed with anger that doesn't seem directed at me.

“You don't have to explain,” I say, glancing back at her father who is still standing there like a disapproving statue. “I get it.”

“No, you don't.” She steps closer, lowering her voice. “My dad is just having a bad day between the dick in the manger and the Kincaids pulling their donation. He’s under a lot of pressure.”

“You married Ethan Kincaid?” His name scrapes out of my throat like gravel. That golden-boy prick who spent high school doing whatever the hell he wanted and never paid for a damn thing. Teachers drooled over him, coaches worshipped him, and every time he screwed up, Daddy’s money swept it clean like it never happened.

I remember him walking those halls like a crowned prince—chin up, smug grin, whole damn place bending around him.

I watch her face carefully, seeing the pain flash across it before she schools her expression back to neutral. It's the kind of practiced move you perfect when you don't want the world to know you're bleeding.

“Yeah,” she says simply, redirecting the conversation away from Ethan. “Look, I know my father doesn’t seem grateful for what you and your club’s done, but I am. How can I thank you?”

“Can you get us some holy water?” Domino calls out from behind us. “Got some demons that need banishing back at the clubhouse.”

“Not even holy water can help you, asshole.”

Cece actually snorts at that, covering her mouth with her hand like she's trying to contain the laughter. The sound makes something warm unfurl in my chest, even as her father's disapproval practically radiates across the room.

“I'll see what I can do,” she tells Domino, then turns back to me. “Seriously though, how can I repay this?”

“You can tell me what else you need,” I hear myself saying, even though every rational part of my brain is screaming at me to walk away. “This can't be everything. Toys are just part of it, right? What about food? Clothes?”

Her expression shifts, surprise flickering across her features like she hadn’t considered the bigger picture. “I...we usually get food donations from the grocery stores, but this year...” She trails off, glancing toward her father.

“This year the Kincaids made sure those dried up too,” I finish for her.

She nods, looking miserable.

I hold out my hand. “Give me your phone.”

“My phone?” Her brows draw together, confusion etched across her face.

“Yeah, your phone.”

She hesitates, one hand instinctively moving to her pocket like I’ve asked for her kidney instead of her cell. “Why do you need my phone?”

“Because I’m not leaving you high and dry with half a charity drive.”

Behind me, I can feel Domino’s stare burning into my back. This wasn’t part of the plan—get in, drop the toys, get out. No lingering, no complications, no getting tangled in small-town drama. But something about the defeated slump of her shoulders, the dark circles shadowing her face, has me ignoring all my better judgment.

“Cece,” her father warns from across the room, his voice carrying that paternal edge that probably worked great when she was sixteen.

She shoots him a look I can't quite decipher before pulling her phone from her pocket. “Here,” she says, unlocking it before handing it over.