“How’s it tonight, Milly?” Trent asked her. For the first time, his tone was casual.
“Better now that my favorite boy is here.”
Trent chuckled and smiled at her. “Sweet talker.”
“Not sweet talkin’ when it’s the truth.”
My chest felt light, watching this, seeing the softer side of Trent.
The way he was with his son, though different of course, as if he’d found ease in an old friend.
Milly turned her regard to me, her aged eyes edged in curiosity and a bit of speculation. I got the sense she was calculating, adding up to see if I was worthy to be sitting across from a man she clearly admired. “And who might this be?”
I swore it was affection in Trent’s tone when he sat back in the booth and gazed at me as he said, “This is Eden, Milly.”
Her questioning gaze turned soft. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Eden.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I murmured.
“Think we’re gonna need a couple coffees here, Milly,” Trent said without looking away from me.
“Sure thing. Be right back.”
She walked away, and the air shifted, the man’s nerves real and alive, almost as intense as mine. I was trapped in it. His stare. His trepidation. His fear over trusting me when it was clear he needed it.
A friend.
A confidant.
Maybe…maybe what he needed was me, kind of the way I was coming to need him.
Regret clung to my throat, the words mottled as I whispered, “I’m so sorry about this afternoon, Trent. I—”
Milly was already back with our coffees, sliding them in front of us and placing a bowl of creamers in the middle. “Here we go. Are we eating tonight?”
Trent glanced at her. “Two of tonight’s specials.”
“Sounds good, sweetheart. They’ll be right out.”
“Thank you,” he gruffed, his familiarity with her clear.
Respect poured out of the woman. I got the sense she watched him like a hero. As if she owed him something.
We watched her go.
Trent was already speaking by the time our attention returned to each other. No doubt, he could feel the questions coming off me.
“Milly got herself into some trouble a couple years back. We fixed it for her.”
A shiver rushed at the way he used the word fixed.
“I see,” I said, the admission quieted like a secret, and I realized why we were here. Trent was opening up. Giving me something I wasn’t sure I was ready to hold.
He slung himself back in the booth, an arm over the top, so calm and cool in the midst of what he’d all but just declared.
A jaundiced, yellow light hung above the booth, and a red neon light that hung on the wall blinked against the blunt, severe lines of his cheeks.
It made him appear ethereal. Deadly. Devine.
He cocked his head to the side. “Do you?”
I huffed a muted, disbelieving laugh. “I honestly have no idea what to make of you, Mr. Lawson.”
“I think we’re passed the Mr. Lawson bit, don’t you, Kitten? You should probably call me Trent.”
“Not The Law?” Somehow, I managed the tease. Maybe it was the only way I’d make it through this.
He grunted a laugh. “No, not The Law. Not for you.”
“And why am I any different?”
Trent shot forward, that wide chest exposed, the words marked there clear.
Live to Ride, Ride to Die.
“What’s different about you, Eden? Everything is different about you. Something better. Something good. Something I’m not sure how to ignore.”
I gulped, his aura spearing me. Gripping me. Gutting me. “What if I don’t want you to ignore it?”
He sat back, disgust lining his words. “Told you I don’t have anything else to offer.”
“I think that’s an excuse. A defense.”
“A defense for you. You should welcome it.”
My heart wobbled with emotion. I fiddled with the paper napkin on the table, desperate for a diversion, barely brave enough to peek at him from the side. “Yet I’m sitting here.”
Trent gave a tight nod. “Need you to understand something.”
I lifted my gaze, waiting.
His eyes dimmed and swam and bled. “About Gage.”
Anxiety clutched my spirit. The affection I had for that child was so overwhelming I thought it might crush me. “About today?”
Trent dipped his chin. “What you said…implied,” he corrected. A wave of severity rushed. “Kid means everything to me, Eden. He’s my world. My reason.”
“He’s why you were late?” I chanced, sure it went much deeper than simply getting caught up in an issue at the club.
“Yeah.” Rage bristled beneath his flesh. Something he could hardly contain.
Still, I pressed, “What happened?”
“His mother.” He cast the words like a millstone.
A thousand questions raced as I realized how little I actually knew about their situation.
Protectiveness surged. “Does he…have contact with her?”
Guilt flashed. So, I’d peeked at Gage’s records on the school system, unable to stop myself from digging around in areas I shouldn’t. I was the fool who’d felt relief when Trent and his brothers were the only people listed with permission to pick up Gage.