Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Alfie Scott

K ellan didn’t call on Saturday, so I had to distract myself some other way. I mean, I assumed he wasn’t gonna call. It was past lunch, and he’d mentioned they were going out to Finn’s for breakfast. How long could a breakfast last?

I spent an hour throwing out clothes I’d never wear again. I needed some nicer pants and a few shirts, and two outfits suitable for church, and that was it. The rest could go. Leaving me with the freedom of jeans, cargo shorts, tees, Henleys, and hoodies. Much better.

Workout clothes too. I pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and grabbed a tee, and then I went out for a run.

AirPods inserted, I went to scroll a playlist or two when I noticed I had several messages from West. Honestly, I sucked at checking my phone, and I mostly kept track on my work phone when I didn’t have the kids.

Fuck my life.

I stood right there on the stoop in the blistering heat and reluctantly opened the messages.

Call me, goddammit. You’re acting like a child.

We need to discuss this as a team. We are always parents first.

The last message had come in this morning, but judging by the ranty attitude—rantytude, if you will—one might’ve guessed West had written it drunk. Or the rant had built up overnight, and he’d let it all out.

I don’t understand you, Alfie. How can you possibly be upset about my moving on when you moved on two years ago? You never share a damn thing about your life. You won’t let me pick up Trip and Ellie at your place. You always insist on dropping them off as well as picking them up. I got your address from Trip’s teacher, for chrissakes. I had to look it up myself. Because do you know what you told me when you moved? “Oh, it’s just a small place in Center City, but the kids like it, so I’m happy.”

I had no reason to question you, and I can’t say I was curious enough because I assumed I’d see it sooner rather than later. But over the years, the children have dropped enough comments to make me understand that you keep a whole lot from me. Your job, for instance? You say you’re a consultant at a security company. What the hell do you know about security? You don’t have a degree. You bartend sometimes to make extra money—where? Who are your friends? What do you do in your spare time?

You became a brick wall when we split up. Then yesterday, you cursed me out like I’d committed a crime. It was like you became the guy I got to know all those years ago. What the hell happened?

For the record, you do not have a small place in CC. You have a three-story rowhouse that you actually own. No amount of extra bartending hours can make a difference with that mortgage. And just yesterday, Ellie was talking at dinner about how much she loves Daddy’s new roof deck. Are you fucking kidding me? I may have asked for the divorce, but you cut me out of your life. I was the one who had to wake up in the goddamn bed we’d shared together. I was the one who had to find a way to start fresh in a place that’d been ours.

No, you can go to hell and rot, Alfie.

I scratched my head.

My mind was strangely quiet. I didn’t know how to process anything he’d written.

I went to my playlists and searched for the angriest metal I could find.

The run didn’t help for shit. For every mile, I just got angrier and angrier, and the moment I came home again, I hauled my sweat-soaked tee over my head, fetched a bottle of water in the kitchen, and went for the chin-up bar in the hallway.

Fuck you, West.

He thought I’d turned into a brick wall?

He thought I’d cut him out of my life? Yeah, after he’d asked for the motherfucking divorce—sure as hell not before then.

I hauled myself up with a grunt and glanced at my reflection in the mirror across the little space.

He’d made one valid point. I had definitely stopped sharing aspects about my life once we’d split. Because what fucking choice had he left me with? He’d dumped me. He’d broken my goddamn heart. I’d tried so damn hard to be good for him. To be both the jokester he’d fallen for and the man who could carry on a polite conversation when he had people over.

He’d grown up that way. Weekends were for friends and networking. He’d become a big shot producer, and for someone of his caliber to consider leaving LA, the offer had to be good. He’d been headhunted personally for this morning show, and it was his name at the top of the credits, so to speak. A lot depended on his reputation and the persona he had at work. And he was an idiot if he didn’t think his partner played a part. How would it look at a banquet if he showed up with me and I couldn’t string a coherent sentence together without saying shite or motherfucker?

I gnashed my teeth and pulled myself up again, and my reflection in the mirror revealed everything I’d tried to subdue in my marriage. Maybe not the abs. Being single and angry a lot had turned me into a workout junkie. But the rest…? How would West’s parents react if they saw this? The ink dedicated to my life. The street I’d grown up on, the license plate of the first car Ma had scraped together money to afford, Ellie’s and Trip’s birth dates. Street signs of memories—like the first date West had taken me on, like the one time I’d revisited my roots in Ireland, the hostel I’d stayed at. Lyrics, quotes, the pub I’d worked at in Cork, a Celtic cross, spotlights, shadows, vines, an Irish fiddle, shamrocks, sheet music to the lullabies I’d sung to Ellie and Trip, the little house in San Juan my grandparents on Ma’s side lived in… Two full sleeves that connected across my shoulder blades and bled down my back and toward my rib cage.

I had cut out West. He didn’t know any of this about me, though I was sure our kids had mentioned some of it. But in my defense, what was I supposed to have done instead? Beg for him to take me back? Oh right, I’d tried that too.

In the weeks following our final fight, I’d fucking tried. I’d told him I’d do anything.

“Tell me what to do, West. Please don’t give up on us. You want me to change something?”

That one had triggered an explosion.

“You’ve changed enough, Alfie! That’s the fucking problem! You’re not the man I married anymore!”

I screwed my eyes shut and pulled myself up over and over. Sweat trickled down my chest, my face, my arms.

We’d gone around in circles with the same fucking fight.

He didn’t want me to change, and yet he took me to places where people would judge the fuck out of me—and him—for not fitting in.

He couldn’t have it both ways. Didn’t he get that? Didn’t he understand that it fucking hurt to be looked at like I had no business standing next to my own husband?

West’s mother had been born into the wealth of the Main Line life. We were talking old money and all that prestigious bullshit. Somehow, West’s old man had conformed to their ways. He’d been upper middle class, but it wasn’t like a Fed earned that much. Still. He walked the walk and talked the talk.

I’d never planned on becoming some poser. Fuck that. But was it so wrong to tone down the swearing and the crudeness? I wasn’t saying it felt natural for shit; maybe I’d always be rough around the edges, and I had no problems with that. So why did West? He’d bitched at me every time we’d come home from one of his functions. Whether they were work-related or family-related.

“I don’t like how you act around them.”

Yeah, well. I hadn’t liked how I was judged for being myself.

I remembered the second time I’d seen West’s parents. I’d sworn to myself to be on my best behavior, considering what’d happened the first time, with West’s dad warning me.

“I happen to know your history, young man. For six years, I dedicated my work to learning everything there was to know about John Murray. I know where he lived, who he married, who he screwed on the side… I know you didn’t become Alfie O’Dwyer until you were three years old.”

I dropped down from the bar, panting like a madman, and rested my hands on my thighs.

Fuck me.

My vision filled with black spots.

The third time visiting West’s folks hadn’t gone any better.

We’d sat on their fancy-ass patio, and Lucille had asked me about my childhood. Somehow, I’d forgotten my place, and I’d ended up sharing a memory of when my parents had given me the best Christmas ever. I’d been six or seven—I couldn’t remember exactly. Mom had just been laid off, so money was extra tight, and we couldn’t even pay the electric bill. So Dad had lit a bunch of candles in the apartment while Ma had raided the cupboards.

The tree had been a gift from one of Ma’s girlfriends, and my new clothes were from the church’s coat drive. Like I gave a shit. Everything was wrapped, and they were new to me. Some toys too. We’d sat there by the tree, candles everywhere, eating SpaghettiOs, pan sobao with jam, and chocolate Santas.

In retrospect, I knew that memory wasn’t as fond to my folks. It’d been a low point to them. But to me…? I’d had so much fun. We’d played games, goofed off, and just spent the whole day together, the three of us.

I’d been so wrapped up in that memory that I’d noticed too late how Lucille reacted.

There were rich people who hated poverty, and there were rich people who hated the poor.

She fell into the latter category, and she’d made me feel like absolute shit with just one expression.

Why would I wanna subject myself to that over and over?

I’d changed my behavior; I hadn’t changed who I was. Granted, the changes had bled into our personal life when those uppity cunts weren’t around, but fucking excuse me. It was exhausting to keep up the charade and switch back and forth.

Even so, it wasn’t like West got a whole other version of me at home. I’d still had my opinions. I’d still had my crass sense of humor. I’d still accidentally let one too many fucks slip out, so Ellie had been, like, three when she’d cursed for the first time.

I drew a deep breath and then chugged from my water bottle.

If anything, fuck West for parading his hood rat around. Like he was some rebel who got a thrill from going against his parents’ wishes.

I’ll stick to my SpaghettiOs, thank you.

I only had two sources of guilt where West was concerned, and those lies were safe. And in my defense, I’d never planned on keeping my heritage a secret. My job, however…

I’d started working for Kellan pretty instantly after we’d moved back, and West had no idea. To his knowledge, I’d wasted six months looking for a job, and then I’d bartended and worked a bit in construction. Which wasn’t untrue. I actually had helped my old man at his construction company.

Whatever.

I was done.

My work phone buzzed on the hallway table, and I went over there and saw a text from Kellan.

The boss wants to meet you. Are you at home?

He never used Finnegan’s name when texting.

I messaged back, too spent to get nervous.

Yup. I’m available whenever. When?

I blew out a breath and?—

There was a knock on the door.

“Are you fucking serious?” I automatically stood up straighter, and I peered through the peephole. Fucking hell. No, really. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It was both Kellan and Finn. Suited up, of course.

Thanks for the warning, asshole.

I steeled myself and undid the chain lock, the regular lock, and opened the door.

Both men lifted their brows and gave me a once-over, and I hated Kellan just a bit. With five minutes’ notice, I could’ve at least showered and put on clothes.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Ford,” I said.

He smirked. I got it, I got it. The ambush hadn’t been an accident.

Finn turned to Kellan a little and muttered, “Remind me to never bring this fucker around Emilia. She’ll divorce me or surprise me with a gym membership.”

My mouth twitched.

Kellan laughed and slapped Finn on the shoulder. “I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about, boss. Your abs have just gone into hiding lately. They might reappear. And Alfie’s gay as fuck.”

“Gym membership, it is,” Finn sighed. Then he faced me and buttoned his suit. But to quote Kellan, the man had nothing to worry about. He was lethally handsome, with steel-gray eyes and cut features. He had a few inches on me too, and I wasn’t precisely short at six feet. “I hear we’re cousins.”

Technically.

I opened the door wider and extended my hand. “I’m Alfie.”

He nodded with a dip of his chin and shook my hand firmly. “Finn.” As he entered, he tilted his head at Kellan again. “He’s got Liam’s eyes.”

Uh, no, I had my own eyes. Cheers.

I didn’t want them to start looking for similarities between me and the Murrays.

“Huh. Maybe you’re right.” Kellan eyed me pensively. “Yeah, you can kinda see it—both Liam and Alec.”

“Don’t make me close my eyes, mate,” I said. I gestured vaguely to the living room and asked if they wanted something to drink.

They didn’t.

Finn wasn’t shy. He took a glance around the living room before he walked over to the shelves and studied my pictures. Plenty of photos on the walls too. Most of them were obviously of the kids, but some were of my folks, me, a couple cousins and their kids…

“Ford mentioned you have a son and a daughter,” Finn said. “How old are they?”

Kellan took a seat on the couch and pulled out his phone.

I cleared my throat and joined Finn. “Uh, Tanner’s eight, and Noelle is six. Their nicknames kinda stuck, so everyone calls them Trip and Ellie.”

“Trip.” He smiled faintly. “They’re cute. I have an army of my own. Children are a blessing. Ain’t that right, Kellan?”

I grinned at that, ’cause I remembered when I’d first told Kellan about Ellie when I’d flown out here to visit. We’d just been approved as foster parents for Tanner, so I’d kept that to myself at the time. And who could blame me? Kellan’s exact words had been, “Congrats on your tax break” and “You know gay men don’t gotta do that shite, right?”

“With all due respect, boss, fuck off.”

Finn and I chuckled. Kellan never looked up from his phone.

He did add something, though. “Lemme be clear. I like the little shits when you can communicate with ’em. But when Finn and Emilia want the house to themselves, and Shan offers to babysit…? Fuck me sideways, I wanna jump off the balcony. There are five of them. Five .”

Finn laughed. “Consider it monthly payback for hooking up with my old man.”

Kellan kissed his fingertips, and Finn shuddered.

I pinched my lips together. Shit was going all right, wasn’t it?

So far.

Figuring kids was a safe topic, I went with it. “How old are yours?”

“This is gonna take a while,” Kellan muttered.

“Fuck you, mate,” Finn laughed. “Autumn’s fifteen. The wife and I adopted her, so we’re not from Alabama or anything.”

“To be fair, you started early enough,” Kellan pointed out. “Well, Emilia did. And not by choice…”

I raised my brows.

Finn sucked his teeth. “Motherfucker, you make it sound like I’m a rapist.” He flicked me a glance. “She was very willing. I just neglected to tell her I’d replaced her birth control with placebos.”

Jesus Christ, that was all kinds of batshit. Not that I’d tell him that.

“In my defense, she’s the one pushing for more now,” he went on, and that was directed at Kellan.

“Like you’re complaining,” he replied with an eye roll.

“I didn’t say I was.” Finn shrugged. Then he got back on track and explained to me. “We had Ryan almost five years ago. Our twin boys, Reagan and Cory, will be three soon. And then we had an oops baby shortly after—Kian. He turns two next week, actually. And, so anyway, we all decided it was best if Emilia could rest for a while, but she’s itching for another girl, and the doctor cleared her before the summer.”

“So now Shannon is babysitting a whole fuckin’ lot,” Kellan drawled. “By the way, there’s nothing oops about fucking unprotected.”

Finn just looked proud. “What can I say, my swimmers and a bottle of wine will make shit happen for the wife.” He adjusted his cuff links absently. “In another by the way , nobody’s buying your act, Ford. Last time you and Dad babysat, he told me you’d taken Ryan and Kian shopping—your suggestion and everything.”

“Because you dress them like hobos!” Kellan defended.

“They’re children ,” Finn grated out. “You know what Ryan did with the suspenders you got him? He tried to choke the nanny.”

Oh my God. I couldn’t help it. I cracked the fuck up.

“Good!” Kellan laughed too. “I never liked that old bird anyway.”

Finn rolled his eyes but couldn’t really withhold his own amusement. It must’ve been a sight. I could picture it too, mostly because it sounded like something Ellie would do.

“Whatever.” Finn huffed a chuckle and rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw. “I reckon it’s Alfie’s turn to reveal more of himself now. I feel like talking about my kids has already given you an idea about me.”

He had a point. Given his role in the Sons of Munster, he had to come off as fairly intimidating at times. And definitely assertive. But behind the hierarchy and when everyone punched out at the end of the day, some of these men were brothers-in-arms who’d grown up together, and we were all practically the same age. When Kellan wasn’t referring to Finn as the boss, they were best friends.

“Well, if your wife’s itching for another daughter, I can assume being outnumbered by junior versions of the husband isn’t easy.” I felt bold enough to joke about that, at least.

He smirked. “You’re not wrong.” He walked over to Kellan and had a seat on the couch. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

I doubted it mattered if I did mind.

“Shoot.” I trailed over to sit down on the smaller couch. This was Trip’s spot. It was where he watched his documentaries and superheroes.

“You’re Catholic, I take it?”

That was his first question? Then again, I knew the church played a part in their lives.

“Yes.” I nodded and sat forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Can’t say I’m very religious, though. I go when Ma guilts me into it.”

“Good woman. Everyone who’s an official Son attends Mass on Sundays,” he said. “It’s not a requirement, but people know it’s what I like to see. It’s part of my quest to bring back order and tradition to the syndicate.”

Fair enough.

“I’ve told Finn you’re not lookin’ to get initiated,” Kellan mentioned.

Okay, good. “Probably for the best,” I said politely. “I’m in a position where I can’t and won’t take too many risks.”

“We’ll get back to that later,” Finn said. “What’re you looking for? You’ve been working for Kellan for three or four years?”

“Almost four,” Kellan confirmed.

I took a breath, unsure if this was a job interview or Finn interrogating me to see if I posed a threat. Maybe a combination of both.

“When I was married, I couldn’t do a whole lot,” I admitted. “I was lying enough as it was, but…I’m single now, so…” I shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m looking for, to be honest. I just know I wouldn’t mind a bit more responsibility.”

Finn nodded slowly, thinking. His gaze shifted to the coffee table, where he eyed our crap bowl. One of my cousins’ kids had made it for me, and Ellie and I kept it filled with shit we were too lazy to tidy up. Hair ties, nail clippers, change, a couple erasers and crayons, and two remotes.

“I know where your head’s at, mate,” Kellan said quietly. “Before you go there, maybe we should discuss the initiation. Because I think Alfie’s idea of it is fucked up.”

I furrowed my brow.

Finn chuckled under his breath. “So you said earlier.” He looked my way. “This isn’t the Cosa Nostra. We have our own code of conduct, and it’s both more lenient and stricter than whatever the fuck the Italians do. We’re about family. We do lie to our loved ones, but there’s no fuckin’ hazing to join. These days, you don’t gotta ice someone in order for us to know you’re with us.” He paused. “You’re with us until we find out you’re not, and then we deal with the problem.”

Shit suddenly got real.

“That’s…honest.” I cleared my throat.

He smiled. “Is it? What have I said, specifically? My hands are clean.”

He hadn’t said a damn thing, but he couldn’t be clearer either. Finnegan O’Shea wasn’t a rookie. Having dealt with Kellan’s work for a few years now, I knew Finn could count the people he trusted on one hand, and he wouldn’t be so open here today if it weren’t for the fact that Kellan had vouched for me.

So…my guess, based on what Finn had said…? The Sons didn’t mind giving someone a shot. But if that man failed and betrayed the syndicate, his mother was about to cry at a funeral.

“What I will say,” he went on, “is that you can’t have it both ways. You’re either in or you’re out. And that’s not an offer—yet. But if you want more responsibility—if you want Ford to bring you outta hiding—you have to prove yourself, and you have to work toward becoming a Son.”

Kellan leaned forward a bit. “I respect you, Alfie, and we’ve known each other a long time. It’s why I’m telling you that we’re looking into your past. And if shit checks out, we hope you join us.”

Jesus Christ. I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised they were doing their own research.

Finn wasn’t done either. “As my cousin, you can secure a spot both in the syndicate and the family. It’s something I know Liam will agree with. I’m seeing him next week, and I will tell him about you.”

Was that a threat or a promise?

Fuck me, I didn’t know what to say. Or to think. I scrubbed a hand over my mouth and started bouncing my knee, and a whole new world opened up before my eyes. One I’d never asked for. More family? Being a part of Finn’s family?

I was trying to get away from the lies, not create a new mountain of them. Fuck, imagine telling my mom about this…? Hey, Ma, we’re invited to cousin Finn’s house for a barbecue! Shite. She’d have a stroke. So, what, I’d have to lie to her and split my life in two again? Which had already exhausted me once. I wasn’t looking to do it again.

At the same time, a part of me wanted this. I couldn’t deny that there was a kid buried deep inside me who’d wondered, for so many years, what it would be like to be accepted by the family who’d once spent money to keep me hidden. I mean, that’s what John had done. Not Finnegan. Not Liam. So I’d watched them from afar. Growing up, going to church, sitting with Ma in the back, I’d seen the O’Sheas and occasionally the Murrays. I’d picked up gossip and stories. At some point, Finnegan and his brother had been shipped off to boarding school in England or something. Many of the higher-ups in the Sons had attended the same school. I’d heard about the charity work the women organized, Grace at the forefront.

As a young child, I’d seen these well-dressed men and women—the ones my mother had avoided. The ones she’d taken a detour with me to not get close to. And I’d seen their children running around after the service.

As a teenager, I’d observed the joking, the hell-raising, and the start of a new generation’s problems. I’d seen a mother catch her son smoking a cigarette behind the church one Easter.

As a grown man, I’d done Ma a favor once, and I’d dropped off clothes for the next coat drive, only to arrive at the memorial for one Patrick O’Shea. Finn’s brother had been murdered somewhere in Europe, and he’d been buried in Ireland. But Father O’Malley, the man who’d baptized me, had hosted a memorial service for Patrick at our local church.

And I’d always wondered… Beneath the layers of contempt and envy… What it would be like to be included in their big family.

Despite the silence stretching on, both Finn and Kellan were watching me, waiting for a response. They weren’t the type of men who’d give me a break by saying I could think things over. They wanted my thoughts on the matter, and I was gearing up to admit—fuck, something…when I heard a series of rapid knocks on the door. Quickly followed by someone tugging on the door handle.

“Daddy, open up! It’s us!”

Holy shit, it was Ellie.

“Trip forgotted his swim goggles!”

“It’s forgot, not forgotted, dummy.”

“Hey, be nice to your sister, Trip.”

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I shot right up automatically, and I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair. Shit, shit, what was I gonna do? I couldn’t very well ignore—wait. Why did I care, again?

“Daddyyyy!”

Right.

Deep breaths.

I rubbed at my chest and excused myself for a moment, and then I stalked out of the living room and out into the hallway, where I came to an abrupt stop in front of the mirror. Fuck me, I guessed we were just revealing fucking everything today, huh?

I didn’t have to care. But I did. It was going to take a while to get used to showing this side of me that I’d suppressed for too long. Also, fuck West for doing this. He could’ve bought Trip a new pair of goggles, but no, now he had to push shit.

Shirtless and with two mobsters sitting on my couch, I unlocked the door and opened it to reveal my kids and my ex-husband.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, Daddy!” Ellie rushed forward and threw her arms around my middle, and Trip slipped by and darted up the stairs. “Eeep! Sweaty!”

Meanwhile, I got stuck on West. And his stare. His surprise. His utter fucking dumbfounded…ness. Was that a word? Dumbfoundity?

He broke the stare first. Dropped it to my chest. He couldn’t hide his shock, but he sure tried. His jaw ticked with tension, and I knew I’d pissed him off somehow.

I don’t care, I don’t care, I’m pretending I don’t care, fuck you for not loving me back anymore, I don’t care.

“Hey, honey.” I kissed the top of Ellie’s head. “I guess youse’re off to a water park?”

“No, just the pool at home, but Trip needs his goggles,” she replied frankly and passed me. “Oh! Um, hi. Who are you? Who are they, Daddy?”

Fuck, shit, all right. Rolling with the punches.

I ran a hand through my hair, and I almost lost my shit. My brain was suddenly screaming at me. Why did West come, what do I tell Finn and Kellan, how do I respond, how will this affect my parenting relationship with West, how much can I divulge, what have I signed up for, what do I really want ? —

“This is my friend Kellan and my cousin Finn,” I heard myself say.

Motherfucker, you said what?

Finn smiled, looking neither surprised nor displeased. “How you doing, hon? You must be Ellie.”

Ellie turned shy in a heartbeat and plastered herself to my thigh. “Hi.” She looked up at me next. “Have I met him before, Daddy?” she whispered. Not very quietly.

I chuckled and combed my fingers through her unruly hair. “You have not, baby girl. We’re just, uh…reconnecting, I guess you can say.”

“Hopefully, there’ll be a lot of that in the future,” Finn said.

I made eye contact with him, and I nodded once. Yeah. Fuck it. I hoped so too.

I really did.

“Okay, we’re gonna go swimming in Daddy’s pool now,” Ellie announced. “Bye!” With that said, she ran back to the hallway, where West waited in the doorway. He’d seen Finn and Kellan, but he made no move. He wasn’t interested in introductions. Or eye contact. He poured all his focus into Ellie and picked her up.

“Did you find your goggles, son?” he called.

“I’m looking!” Trip hollered.

That tension rolling off West wasn’t all in my head, was it? Whatever he’d come here for had backfired. My guess—he’d wanted to confront me since I hadn’t responded to his texts. And now, that wasn’t possible.

I walked out into the hallway again—not sure why, but I wanted an answer or two. I just didn’t want Ellie to catch on. We’d been good at keeping our arguments away from the kids.

“Did you get what you came for?” I asked. Because it sure as fuck hadn’t been Trip’s goggles.

West cleared his throat and repositioned Ellie on his hip. “No, I got something else entirely.” He flicked a quick glance into the living room, and then he eyed my torso just as briefly. “Ellie’s mentioned the drawings on Daddy’s arms and ribs a few times, but I hadn’t expected that.”

“They’re cool,” Ellie gushed. “I’mma get drawings like that one day.”

We’d see about that, girl.

“Oh yeah?” West plastered a smile on his face for Ellie’s sake. “You wouldn’t hide them like Daddy, though, would you? I guess he even hides cousins . Can you believe that? I wonder what else he hides. Probably a lot.”

I clenched my jaw.

Ellie giggled. “He hides candy sometimes! But so do you , Daddy.”

West rumbled a chuckle and smooched her cheek. “That’s because I don’t want to see how you’d react to chocolate with rum in it.”

Ellie put her hands on her hips and jutted her chin. “Maybe I like rum!”

“You can find out when you’re twenty-one,” he laughed. “In the meantime, can you go help your brother find his goggles?”

Oh, fuck no. Was he honestly gonna argue with me when I had Finn and Kellan in the living room?

“Yup! I’ll probably find them before he does.” Ellie scrambled down and sprinted up the stairs.

I peered into the living room real quick, relieved to see Finn and Kellan speaking quietly to each other.

“He looks familiar, the copperhead.” West kept his voice down too.

I suppressed a sigh and forced myself to face him.

“Since when do you have a cousin I don’t know about?” he asked. “I’ve met your aunts and uncles and their kids on both your parents’ sides.”

I wasn’t gonna get into this with him. Not now and probably not ever.

“You don’t know everything about me.”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “No, you’ve made that clear.” For a quick second, his eyes flashed with pain, and it fucking killed me. He was getting it wrong.

“This is a new development,” I told him. “If I kept something from you before, it was only because it wasn’t my secret to tell. It was my mother’s.”

That confused him, but then he merely shook his head, as if it didn’t matter anymore. “Whatever you say. It’s none of my business.” He folded his arms over his chest and peered into the kitchen and dining room. “A small place in Center City. Nice shirts and ties… And then this.” He nodded at me, at my ink. “And you had the nerve to get angry with me for agreeing to a dinner date. I don’t even know who the fuck you are.”

I swallowed hard, too conflicted to speak. Anger simmered below the surface, but devastation weighed me down. I hated fighting with him. I hated circling back to the same goddamn issues over and over. I hated how the hurt never ceased to floor me.

“You brought a pair of scuffed boots to a black-tie affair and got pissy when the boots tried to look better,” I said. “I don’t wanna hear another fucking word about my changes . If you didn’t want me to grow up and clean up my act, then you shouldn’t have put me on display to be judged by your family and coworkers. Because you don’t have the slightest fucking idea how much that hurt.”

God-fucking-dammit, I’d said too much. I didn’t want him to see my anguish, how vulnerable I’d been?—

“Who the hell judged you?” he asked incredulously. “What’re you talking about?”

And this was why. Because he’d never fucking seen it.

“I don’t think your sisters like me much.”

“What? Why wouldn’t they like you? Don’t read too much into it. They’re standoffish at first.”

He’d dismissed me every time I’d brought something up, as if the notion that some might not like me was absurd. But his sisters hadn’t only been standoffish. They’d been catty and obvious as fuck, from high-school level once-overs quickly followed by whispering to one another, to waiting till West left the room to drop comments like, “Must be comfortable to have a man like West to support you, huh?” and “Do you ever feel bad for not being able to contribute as much as our brother?”

I was saved by the kids reappearing outside their rooms upstairs, and I took a step back and swallowed.

“Forget I said anything.”

“I found his goggles!” Ellie declared triumphantly.

West stared at me for a beat longer, but as the kids reached us, he had to shift his focus.

Under normal circumstances, I’d never wish for my children to get out of the house, but today was an exception. My head was completely fucked, and I just wanted them out of here so I could throw my body to the wolves that were the Sons of Munster. Because I was suddenly beyond fucking desperate to belong somewhere. To be wanted somewhere.