Chapter Nineteen: Ryan

I wake on Saturday morning to an empty bed and the murmur of low voices drifting up the stairs and into my bedroom. Considering I'm not expecting anyone other than Oscar to be in my house — our home , I correct myself giddily— the fogginess of sleep evaporates instantly and I'm on high alert.

It's only the fact that I can hear the distinctive twang of Oscar's voice, calm and measured in whatever he's saying to whoever else is downstairs with him, which keeps me from leaping to conclusions about home intrusion or whatever. Nevertheless, I dress quickly, pulling on my discarded pj pants and a soft cotton t-shirt before hurrying down the stairs.

I stop as I hit the bottom step, blinking in surprise at the three people seated around the little dining table, all nursing steaming mugs of coffee. Oscar, I expected. But the other two?

"Papa!" Mak is up and out of her chair and flinging her arms around me before I can properly process what is going on. "You're finally awake. I thought Dad was the one who slept in. You were always the early bird."

With my brain sluggish from only having just woken up, and still reeling from the surprise of seeing my step-kids sitting at my dining table so unexpectedly, my mouth engages before my filter does. "It's not my fault Daddy kept me up late."

Mortification kicks in at the same time Trev inhales his coffee and it erupts from his nose in a cacophony of splutters and choking sounds. Oscar passes him a couple of paper towels and sends me an amused look over the top of Mak's dark brown hair.

"Don't panic," he says calmly, already out of his own seat and moving around the table to stand at my side and rub my back. "Pretty sure one of us was going to slip up at some point. My money was on a couple of years down the line, mind you, but this just gets it over and done with nice and early."

My face feels like it's on fire. I cover my eyes with my hand, feeling Mak take a step away from me, ending our reunion hug. "Fucking hell," I curse myself. "Can we just forget I said that?"

"No," Mak says firmly, and I peek through a gap in my fingers to find her giving me a look so painfully reminiscent of Maddox that my heart hurts. I always did think she took after him more than her brother. Her eyes are soft with understanding and not even a hint of judgement, and her lips are curling upwards with a nearly invisible smile. "We're in your safe space, and unannounced at that. Plus, Dad would kick our arses if we even considered making you change who you are and what makes you happy. I…no," she looks over her shoulder to confirm with her brother, who nods, " we want you to be yourself around us."

My heart feels like it's going to hammer its way out of my chest, but Mak's words go a long way to bringing me down from an impending panic attack. "Even though he's your age? You…you don't think it's weird?"

"You warned us that he was younger," Trev says with a shrug. He balls up the napkins now that he's finished mopping up his accidental mess. "Granted, you didn't say how young, but age doesn't change whether a person is good or bad, and we can tell Oz is good for you."

"And the, um, the fact that I just…that I call him Daddy?"

Trev's lips stretch into a wide grin. "Is fucking adorable. You're never living it down, though."

I groan and turn to bury my face in the crook of Oscar's neck, and he pats my back consolingly, even while he chuckles. "You and Maddy raised damn good kids," he says, and it should be weird that he sounds so paternal about people only a few years younger than himself, but it doesn't. He's a Daddy, so the maturity is a natural setting for him in a way. However, there's a hint of melancholy when he adds, "I'd have given anything for parents like you guys."

"Maddy did most of the work before I even came onto the scene," I admit, and both my kids scramble to correct me almost immediately.

"Uh, no," Mak says, sounding affronted. "You came into our lives during our teens when we were at our most impressionable and annoying."

"You were never annoying," I tell her, and Trev scoffs.

"Yes, she was. Especially during her boy band era."

"Shut up," Mak shoots back at him.

He starts humming a One Direction song. She stomps around the table to smack his shoulder.

I'm instantly transported back in time, and it makes me want to laugh and cry all at once.

"What are you guys even doing here?" I ask instead, trying to stave off the tears.

They exchange slightly guilty looks and then Trev runs his hand through his sandy-blond hair and answers, "We were worried about you. With the lawsuit, and newly dating some younger guy, and living on the opposite side of the country…"

"I know we should've called first," Mak cuts in, "but you've always had an open-door policy, so we flew in overnight because we missed you and wanted to make sure you're okay." She points to the kitchen counter where a big Tupperware box is sitting and adds, "Mum even sent you a batch of her brownies."

I was never close to Mak and Trev's mother, Cynthia, but she was one hundred percent supportive of my relationship with her ex-husband. For as long as I've known her, she has travelled a lot for work, which was why Maddy had custody of the kids, but any time she was home, she would bake her signature brownies with the kids and send us batches when they'd come home. It's a bit of an emotional moment to realise that I haven't had any of her brownies since before Maddy died. Maybe even not since the kids were at uni.

"I'll have to send her a text to thank her." Then, registering the rest of Mak's explanation, I shake my head. "You're always welcome here, and you never have to ask whether you can come over."

"I mean," Trev looks between me and Oscar and smirks, "with this new dynamic, we probably should check you're not, uh, otherwise indisposed before we just turn up on your doorstep."

"A call from the airport would work," Oscar tells him. "One of us would come get you."

Trev shakes his head. "Nah, I always rent a car. I like being able to drive myself around."

"Fair enough," Oscar acknowledges.

"But, yeah, next time we'll call when we're on our way. Make sure you're decent or, at the very least, at home." His expression turns sheepish. "We're used to Papa being a homebody these days, but I'm guessing that might be different now."

"Eh," Oscar shrugs. "On the weekends I'm here, we do tend to stay close to home anyway."

I get a thrill at the reminder of last night's conversation. Home . This is our home. Together. Oscar gives me a squeeze, as though he's on the same page and thinking the same mushy thoughts.

"Oh, that's right. You're only here once every few weeks, right?" Mak asks, which prompts a conversation about Oscar's roster, and then his job, and soon enough we're all seated around the table eating Cynthia's brownies for breakfast, paired with fresh coffees and lots of laughter.

The kids don't bat an eye when I slip up and refer to Oscar as ‘Daddy', and it's the best morning I think I've ever shared with my new boyfriend.

I can see this becoming our new normal, and I love it.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Henry calls.

"It's going to be fine," Oscar assures me when I stare at the phone in a panicked daze.

"Lawyers don't work Saturdays," I reply, and Trev snorts from where he's sprawled out on the couch reading a book on an app on his phone. How he can do that on such a small screen is beyond me.

"He knows I'm here," he says without even looking over. "So I can help with any legal jargon or offer my thoughts if need be."

Still paralysed in case it's bad news, I let Oscar pry my phone from my hand and watch as he slides his thumb across the screen to answer the call.

"Hi Henry," he greets cheerfully, "you're on speaker and the whole gang is here."

"Hello to the whole gang," Henry sounds jovial, which is a good sign, right? "Trevor, you owe me a dinner at Dan Arnold."

My eyes bulge. A hatted restaurant? Henry has expensive tastes.

"Fuck off," Trev calls back, eyes still on his screen. "The Cowboys had that game in the bag. Fucking Titans rigged it or something."

"Don't be a sore loser, mate," Henry chides, but he's laughing. "I'd hate to see you in court if this is the way you put a case forward."

Trev just raises his middle finger at the phone, which makes Oscar laugh. "You're not on video, man."

"Anyway," I prompt, my anxiety too high to properly enjoy the banter in the moment, "is everything okay with my case? Is there a problem? Do I need to come back to Brisbane?"

"Everything's fine," Henry assures me. "That's actually why I'm calling. I've been back and forth with the other guy's lawyer all week, but he's convinced his client to drop the case because they know they don't actually have one."

My knees go weak, and I drop into a chair at the dining table. "Really?" I croak.

"Really," Henry confirms.

Tearing up, I thank him effusively. "You have no idea how relieved I am."

"Oh, I think I have some idea," his tone is warm, even through the phone's tinny speaker. "But I told you the whole thing was bogus. It was just a waste of time and money on Old Mate's part. A stalling tactic against whatever criminal charges are heading his way. We could all see it: even his lawyer."

Mak and Oscar are sandwiching me between them, squeezing my shoulder and forearms while Trev sits up on the couch, paying attention now. "They are going to press charges?" he asks, all traces of his previous playfulness gone. He's in lawyer mode, gaze shrewd and lips set in a firm line.

"I believe so," Henry affirms. "Someone from the CIB will probably get in touch with you, Ryan, when they do. They'll explain the process from there better than I can — I'm not really across criminal proceedings."

"They'll want to hear your statements again," Trev says, looking between me and Oscar, "and they'll let you know when there's a court date and when you'll be required to testify—"

I stiffen and shake my head emphatically, already protesting that I don't want to sit in a court room reliving the assault.

"—which you might be able to give via video-link, seeing as you live out here now and have a business to run," Trevor continues gently.

I relax a little. That doesn't seem as daunting.

Trev looks at Oscar. "When they call, ask them to do a conference call and loop me in."

"We'll do that," Oscar affirms.

"So, it sounds like my job here is done," Henry says, reminding me that he's still on the line.

"Thank you so much," I repeat my earlier gratitude. "Send me your invoice and I'll pay it immediately."

"Nah, it's on me," he says, and I frown.

"I'm not usually one to tell someone how to run their business, but the best way to keep having a business is to accept payment for your services."

He laughs. "I'm doing well enough that I can afford to do a few phone calls for a friend for free."

"Henry…" I try, and he blows a raspberry down the line.

"Convince your son to honour his bet," he says, "and I'll consider us even."

"Oh, you're playing dirty," Trevor complains at the phone. However, he still sighs dramatically and adds, "I'll make reservations and let you know."

Oscar and Mak also thank Henry, and the call ends soon after. I can't believe how easily fixed the issue was after how stressed and scared I felt when I opened that letter last week. It feels anti-climactic somehow, not that I'm complaining that Henry was able to resolve it so quickly.

Knowing that there's still a criminal trial looming on the horizon still ties me up in knots, but the only impact that will really have on my life is knowing whether the bad Dom who assaulted me will face consequences or not. It's not going to have any sort of effect on my business, or my private life, or my relationships with people moving forward. I'm not going to go through months of defending myself or justifying why I made the report to begin with. Yes, I might need to answer uncomfortable questions about the club and the kinks I enjoy, but the people involved in the trial won't ever cross my path again. That's assuming it even goes to trial: it might even settle out of court if this guy wants to try for a lighter sentence.

All I know is that I was right for reporting him all those months ago. I didn't defame him, and he's not getting away with what he did to me. What he's probably done to other people, or what he might do again.

I have Oscar to thank for having my back then, and for continuing to support me now. He was the one who called Trevor and arranged Henry's help as well. Without Oscar, this all could have been a much bigger, scarier mess for me. Daddy or not, he's a good man. A good boyfriend. A good Dom.

"You okay?" he asks me softly, nuzzling his cheek against mine.

I close my eyes and breathe easily, feeling truly at peace for the first time in over a week, since the letter about the lawsuit first arrived.

"I'm better than okay," I answer. "And you made that happen."

"I mean— ow! " Trev rubs at his arm and glares at his sister who is rolling her eyes at him.

"Yes," I chuckle in his direction, "you helped, too. But if Oscar hadn't called you, I'd probably still be looking for the right lawyer to help me, assuming I would have pulled my head out of the sand at all."

"You don't give yourself enough credit, darlin'," Oscar says, and he wraps his strong arms around me and kisses the back of my neck. "You're stronger than you think."

"What he said," Mak seconds. "After Dad died, we all struggled. But you…you stayed strong for us." She gestures between herself and Trev. "You dealt with arranging the funeral, with selling the clinic, with making sure the wishes in his will were all met…you did it all and you never asked us for help, or accepted it when we offered."

"Because you're our kids," I fall back on the same argument I used over a year ago. "I was his husband. The adultier adult. It was my responsibility, not yours."

"Still dumb logic," she huffs, "but whatever, it's done. The point I'm making is that you did all of that because you're strong…only you've got a support system and it's okay to let others take over sometimes, too."

"Ah, fuck," I look up at the ceiling, blinking back tears at the gut punch from her words. She looks and sounds so much like Maddy that hearing her be so logical is bitter-sweet. "You're a pest," I accuse.

"I learned from the best," she teases back.

"Yeah," I agree, "your dad was a pain sometimes."

She picks up one of the cushions from the couch and lobs it at me. "I meant you, Papa."

"I know." And, because I'm mature, I poke my tongue out at her.

The serious mood starts to lift again.

"So, should we talk about what to expect when the police charge the guy?" Trevor asks, and I groan, shaking my head.

"Not today. I just want to enjoy this time with you guys before you fly back home. We haven't had proper family time since…"

Since Maddy died.

Oh, sure, I have spent time with the kids, but I was a shell of myself for most of the year following his death, and then I moved out here away from them.

"I can head out if you all want some time on your own," Oscar offers. He says it without a hint of resentment or upset, because he's just that sweet and understanding. But both kids and I deny him in unison: a chorus of horrified "fuck no"s.

"You're my Daddy," I tell him, without a trace of the embarrassment I felt when I first let it slip this morning. "And this is your home now, remember? You're a part of this family now."

" Oh ," Mak widens her pretty, hazel eyes and then grins evilly. "Can I call you Daddy, too?" She rakes her gaze over Oscar with an exaggerated predatory glee, and I tug him close against me.

"Nope," I tell her. "Mine. Find your own."

"I'm so going to need therapy after this," Trev moans, then ducks as Mak attempts to smack him upside the head. "Papa, she's so violent."

"Only ever with you," she shrugs.

Trev sets his big, brown eyes on Oscar. "This is the insanity you're getting roped into. You prepared for this?"

"I'm the cowboy," Oscar says, "I do the roping." He looks at me with an expression so soft and full of love that it takes my breath away. "And I wouldn't want to be anywhere or with anyone else."