Page 55 of The Beat of My Heart

Trevor: Pulling in now.

Loki: Me too.

Walking up the steps to Dexter’s townhome, I hear Loki call out. Turning, I see him take in my appearance.

“What?” I demand.

“Fuck, Trevor. Call her.”

Ignoring him completely, I say, “Any news?”

“Your father called me this morning,” Loki tells me.

“What?”

“My guess is he thinks I’m still running contracts for you. I’m thinking they will try to force me in.”

I can’t help but laugh, “Fucking hell. They think they will turn a federal agent?”

“They think I’m just a schmuck lawyer mooching off the rich boy,” he tells me.

It makes sense, but I don’t like it.

“You’ll have to go undercover, Loki.”

“That’s the plan,”

“Jesus, Loki. There has to be another way,” I insist.

“Listen, we’re not talking about Preston going in, this is me, I’m trained for this, okay? But I will be blind for a while and I have to know you can hold it together. If ever there was a time to bring Dex in on this, it’s now,” he tells me.

“No fucking way, he has newborns and a four-year-old, Loki. I can handle this, do not bring them in,” I warn.

Loki is about to argue when the front door is ripped open, “Thank fuck, guys. Here,” Dex says, handing me one of the girls. I’m ashamed to say, I can’t tell them apart yet.

“Hey there, Babycakes,” the endearment falls from my lips without my consent. It's like a sucker punch to the solar plexus.

Loki pats me on the back in silent comfort. I don’t want to know how much he heard from my time with Angel, but the fact that he knows about Babycakes tells me a lot.

“You okay, Trevor? You’re looking a little rough,” Dex says.

“This coming from the father of three with no nanny?” I retort.

“Exactly. What’s going on with you, man?” he asks.

“Yeah, Trevor, what’s up?” Loki goads.

“Just work,” I mumble. “Who do I have here?” I ask Dex.

“Ah, oh hell… check her diaper, Sara has a birthmark on her hip bone.”

“That just sounds wrong on so many levels,” Preston says, walking in behind us.

Laying the baby girl down, I do as Dex instructed. “This is not Sara and holy Christ, what the hell did you feed her?” I say, gagging.

“Oh, yeah, Harper is brutal on the diapers,” Dex says, throwing a diaper bag at my head.

“Jesus Christ,” I grumble, but looking at this little face, it’s hard to stay mad. If I’m being honest, it brings me right back to Angel. The first and last time I ever considered fatherhood.