“Missed you, too,” I tell her, and I realize it’s true. I ran from her and from everything, but it wasn’t her fault. “The kids are asleep.”
I pull back to nod at the sofa, and I’m not surprised when she lets go and heads that way to check on them.
“Hey, man.” Kaden reaches for my hand, but I pull him in for a man-hug. “Long time no see.”
Yeah. After we talked at Christmas, I stopped taking his calls. Barely replied to his text messages.
He looks good, his blond hair pulled back, his cheeks scruffy, blue eyes bright. A spitting image of our father. “How’s your girlfriend? What was her name… Hailey?”
Funny how I remember such details at a time like now when everything else is dark.
“Uh, yeah. She’s okay.” He rubs the back of his neck. “We’re not… we had some problems.”
Shit. “Sorry, K.”
I vaguely remember that he was accused of misdemeanor or some shit like that last year. He was acquitted, but his social and work reputations had suffered.
Then he found his girl and was happy, until it apparently fell through.
That’s how it always is. Life gives you sugar, distracting you, and then fucking mows you over.
“Any news about your girl?” he asks, and I shake my head. He slaps my shoulder. “We’re here now. Go get some sleep.”
As if I can do that, knowing that motherfucker has Octavia.
“There are police parked all around your house,” he goes on. “They’re camped in your garden, dude. Nobody can get through this time.”
But it’s too late. He got her.
The question is, how do I find her?
Sitting in a chair by the window, I drift in and out of sleep, my cell phone cradled against my chest. Dawn is breaking when it buzzes with a message.
Rubbing a hand over my eyes, I check the text.
It just says, “Open the door, fucker.”
That can only be one person, and for a moment, I forget myself and grin. Pushing to my feet, I walk past the kids and my mom asleep on the sofa, and Kaden curled in my armchair. After checking quickly, I unlock the door and open it wide.
Zane.
He’s my adopted brother. Well, Emma’s adopted brother. And he’s family like few people are.
He lifts his chin in greeting, his blue Mohawk surreal in the gray morning light. Son of a bitch looks scary, his gaze intense and his big shoulders tense. “Matt.”
I grab him in a hug before he says another word. “Jesus.”
“No, I actually go by Zane these days.”
I thump his back, stopping myself from laughing because it’s a thin line between laughter and crying. I can’t afford to break down now, while Octavia needs me.
He seems to sense something because he draws back. “We’re here to help any way we can.”
That’s when I notice another guy stepping up onto the porch, a cop trailing him. “Rafe Vestri.”
The owner of the tattoo shop where Zane works, and one of his closest friends. I nod at the cop to let him know it’s okay and shake hands with Rafe.
“You guys must be beat,” I tell them, rubbing at my chest. Morning time and still no news, goddammit. “Did you drive all night?”