Page 86 of Oathbreaker

She arches one brow. “What? You thought the boys weren’t going to make her a tomboy?”

Yeah, that would be wishful thinking on my part.

Finally, after more bags, coolers, chairs, and toys than three people should possibly need for a day at the beach, we’re on the way. It’s warm for November, Indian summer hitting hard this week, so we opt to take advantage of it and have a nice day.

As a family.

Briar and I are slowly finding our way as a couple, and she and I are working together to ease me into Frankie’s life too. It’s taking longer than I would have liked, but I’m not stupid—moving slowly is the only way this works long-term.

It’s taking even longer with the boys.

Banks and I have hung out a few times.

Royal stops by a lot under the guise of seeing Frankie, but it’s about me too because the last time he came over while she was at school. He pretended he forgot but I know better.

Atlas and Dash are a lot more stubborn.

Atlas texted me the other day to ask if I was interested in having a drink one night in the near future. No date or time, just a generic invitation. Briar warned me to be nice and not tell him to fuck off, so I didn’t, but I will when I see him.

What the fuck is that all about?

“If you set up the umbrella and chairs, I’ll get the food,” Briar says once we’ve arrived. “And Frankie—do not get in the water. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you!” Frankie already has a pail and three water guns, running toward the shore full speed.

“She okay on her own?” I ask worriedly.

“She’s stubborn and sassy and a whole lot of other things that are sometimes difficult, but she’s always good when it’s a matter of safety. She’ll play on the water’s edge until we’re ready to join her.”

“Okay.” I glance out at the water, pausing from jabbing the pole of the umbrella into the sand. “It’s warm today but the water’s choppy.”

She follows my gaze. “Yeah—Frankie! Don’t get in the water unless one of us is with you!”

“I know, Mommy!” she yells.

I bite back a laugh. “She’s hilarious. How do you manage to discipline her?”

“It’s not easy,” she admits, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. “It’s nice when we’re all together and someone else can discipline her so I can walk out of the room and laugh.”

“I don’t know that I’ll be much help to you,” I say, chuckling. “Because she cracks me up.”

“Me too. But you’ll figure out when it’s okay to let her get away with stuff and when you have to be strict. Luckily, she’s a good kid. It seems to be instinctive, that she knows when she can push and when to back off. The first time I lost my shit and screamed at her she gaped at me. She was…not quite two? She tried to crawl into the hot oven.”

“Jesus,” I breathe, grimacing.

“I’d opened the door to put a roast in, but it was heavy so I opened it all the way, then turned to pick up the pan with both hands. In that two seconds she started to climb up and we both screamed. I managed to get her before she got burned, but I was scared. That’s one of the only times I’ve ever shrieked like that, and it was more about getting her to pay attention than punishment. I try not to ever react that way, but it shocked her into understanding how dangerous it was. She never did anything like that again.”

“I don’t know how I feel about discipline,” I say, meeting her eyes. “Like I can’t picture yelling or spanking or anything.”

She pauses from where she’s spreading out the blanket. “I don’t spank, but yelling? Oh, yeah. It’s a thing. I don’t do it often, but she gets it when I really yell. You know, the full on Frankie Marie Dash—get your little butt over here!”

We both snort out laughter.

And then it hits me.

Frankie’s last name is…Dash. Not Blackwood. Dash.

I never thought of that before.