Chapter four

When I get home, I step out of the car, shut the door behind me, and stride toward the front door. My eyes sweep the dark surroundings as I step inside, approving of the mix of light and sombre interior design that Wren chose, but I immediately pick up on the faint sounds of movement coming from a room on my left. With my suspicion raised, I instinctively reach into my pocket, pulling out my knife as I slowly make my way toward the noise.

I slow my steps as I near the kitchen, peeking around the doorway with one eye. What I see makes my brows furrow. There's a man standing at the counter, his back to me, scrubbing down the surfaces like he owns the fucking place.

I stride into the room, coming to a stop a few feet behind him, my knife raised and pointed directly at him.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house, motherfucker?" I bark.

He jumps, spinning around to face me, his eyes wide with shock. I tilt my head to the side in an unnerving manner, narrowing my gaze as I size him up. He looks to be around my age, with dark hair and a pretty lean build.

"Hurry the fuck up, you stupid little cunt, and explain yourself before I cut you ear to ear." I snarl, letting the blade glint in the light.

His eyes stay locked on the knife, and he quickly raises his hands in surrender, his voice trembling. "I am... I am the cleaner."

I blink blankly, my confusion deepening. "You're a fucking guy," I state flatly, the ridiculousness of it making me jerk my head back slightly.

He swallows hard, his shoulders lifting in a nervous shrug. "I am just doing my job for Ms. Hayes, sir," he replies, clearly trying not to provoke me further.

My brow arches higher, agitation rising like a slow burn as I take a menacing step forward. I stop when I'm close enough to feel his warmth, the tip of my knife hovering dangerously close to his eye. His body starts trembling beneath my gaze, fear radiating off him in waves.

"My fucking wife is Mrs. Hayes to you," I growl possessively.

His response is immediate, his eyes wide as saucers. "Of course, Mr. Hayes," he sputters.

I lean in, the blade pressing just a fraction deeper into his skin. "Stay the fuck away from her bras and panties," I warn, my eyes drilling into his, ensuring he understands every word.

He stares at me, mouth hanging open in shock, but I'm not joking. Not even a little.

"I would never do that, Mr. Hayes."

When I'm satisfied with his answer, I slowly pull back the knife, flicking it closed with a snap. My brow stays raised, eyes locked on him as I make a sharp head tilt toward the door.

"Get the fuck out of my house," I order coldly.

He nods frantically, his steps quick and stumbling as he rushes for the exit, head lowered. I watch him closely, giving him a hard side-eye as he finally disappears through the door. Still annoyed by the situation, my irritation simmering, I glance around the kitchen.

"A fucking guy?" I mutter under my breath, rubbing my hand over my face in disbelief. Shaking my head, I turn and make my way up the stairs, still grappling with the madness of it all.

After climbing the stairs, I stride down the long corridor, glancing around like I'm in a stranger's house. The entire place feels foreign. I start opening doors at random, trying to piece together the layout of a life I haven't been part of. Each room is a mystery; I don't know where the fuck anything is, don't know whose room belongs to fucking who.

I finally stop at a door halfway down the hallway. I push it open, stepping into what must be Cree's bedroom, though nothing about it feels familiar. I take it all in, slowly, like I'm seeing it for the first time—because I am.

The room looks so different from what I'd pictured in my head, different from the last memory of our old home. It's modern with black and white décor, but knowing Wren, she would have asked him what he wanted, and this must have been it. It's not the little boy's room I imagined. The decor, the toys, the books—everything screams that Cree's already grown up more than I got to witness. I wasn't there to see it happen, and now it feels like a punch to the fucking gut, like I've been robbed of watching my own son grow.

I let out a deep huff and sit at the foot of his bed. The mattress feels stiff beneath me, and I glance over my shoulder at the blankets neatly folded at the top of the bed. Reaching for one, I pull it into my lap, the soft fabric slightly wrinkling under my fingers. Then, instinctively, I raise it to my face, closing my eyes as I inhale deeply.

His scent hits me immediately—faint but it's there. It's the only familiar thing in this entire house, and I hold onto it like a fucking lifeline. Slowly, I open my eyes, lowering the blanket to my lap.

I'm not sure how Cree will handle seeing me again. I missed so much—too much. I missed his fourth birthday, him starting school. He's only four, and the last time he saw me must feel like a fucking lifetime ago. I just hope—more than anything—that he can forgive me. That somewhere in that little heart of his, there's still space for me.

I carefully place the blanket beside me, doing my best to rein in the whirlwind of emotions brewing beneath the surface. Taking a steadying breath, I reach into my pocket and pull-out Wren's phone. Swiping up, I find my mother's contact and press the call button. As the line rings, I rise from Cree's bed and head toward the door.

"Wren?" my mom asks through the speaker.

"It's me," I reply as I step out of the room and start pacing down the hallway, unsure of where I'm going again.

"How did she take it?"

I let out a long breath, the weight of it all pressing down on me as I continue walking. "Badly," I mutter, "To the point of giving fucking birth."

"What?"

I sigh again, trying to ground myself as I push open another door, scanning yet another unfamiliar room. "She's had our baby," I repeat.

My mother exhales a stiff breath. "I told you—you should've waited, Arlo. She was already struggling without you and seeing you while heavily pregnant must've been even harder."

I flick on the light as I answer, irritation creeping into my tone. "Yeah, well, waiting wasn't a fucking option, Mom. I wasn't going to be apart from her any longer."

"How are they both?" she asks.

I step into our baby girl's nursery, the sight of it silencing me. Everything's carefully placed—tiny blankets, stuffed animals, soft, pastel hues. It hits me, the weight of what I've missed, and I just stand there, taking it all in.

"Arlo?" she presses, the concern unmistakable. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah," I finally mumble, shaking myself out of my thoughts. "I'm here, and they're fucking fine."

"That's good to hear."

As she continues talking, my eyes land on a few bags tucked in the corner. I walk over and kneel in front of them, unzipping one and searching inside.

"Did you tell her everything?" she asks, wanting details.

I groan, pulling out a tiny sleepsuit. "I told her what I fucking could. She was in shock; I didn't want to overwhelm her."

There's a pause on the other end of the line before she speaks again. "You haven't seen Cree yet?"

I shake my head, even though she can't see me. "No, not yet. I'm at home getting things for the girls. Wren had a caesarean, so she's got to stay in the hospital for a few days. I'll see Cree after I'm done here and take him to meet his little sister."

"Okay," she responds. "I've told Sara and Jasper about your return."

I smirk slightly, pulling out another onesie with ‘Daddy's Little Angel' scrawled across the front and my lips twitch up in amusement.

"Oh yeah? How'd they take it?" I ask absently, folding the onesie and continuing to go through the bag.

"As expected, they're shocked," she says. "But they're eager to see you."

"Yeah, well, they'll see me today," I reply, now focused. "I need you to drop off my clothes. I've got nothing here except what I'm fucking wearing."

I lift a tiny outfit with ‘Lumi Hayes' embroidered on it. The sight of my last name attached to hers brings an unfamiliar warmth to my chest, even if my mind is still spinning from everything.

"Of course," my mother assures. "Jasper will bring me."

I place everything neatly back into the bag before zipping it up and standing. "Nice one. I'll see you soon."

Hanging up, I shove the phone back into my pocket and head to our bedroom. Without a second thought, I strip down and step into the bathroom. The hot water hits me as I get into the shower, and for a moment, everything else fades into the background, leaving just the sound of the water and the weight of what comes next as I try to mentally prepare myself.

When I'm done with the shower, the doorbell echoes through the mansion. Wrapping a black towel around my waist, I stride out of the bathroom and head toward the front door, knowing it must be my mom and Jasper.

As I descend the stairs, I catch a glimpse of them through the glass panelling. I pull the door open, and my eyes lock with Jasper's. He looks stunned, his face paling, like he didn't actually believe I was back until this very moment.

"No fucking way," he breathes.

Before I can respond, he lunges forward, catching me completely off guard. His arms wrap around me in a tight hug, and the force of it makes me stumble back a step, fighting to regain my balance. I stand there, stiff as a fucking statue. No man ever dares to touch me like this—family or not. But Jasper holds on, like he's afraid I might disappear again if he lets go.

I reluctantly lift my hand, giving his back a few awkward pats until he finally releases me, pressing his brow against mine. His palms cup my face, his gaze filled with unfiltered pain.

"I'm so sorry, brother," he murmurs, his voice breaking. "I should have gotten you out of there."

The sadness and guilt in his blue eyes hits me, stirring something deep in my gut that I rarely feel for a family member. I tap his cheek with my fingers, then point at his chest, my tone steady.

"You did exactly what I would have fucking wanted you to do, bro. You saved my girls." I reassure him.

As the words leave my mouth, I watch the tension drain from his shoulders and he steps back, wiping the tears from his reddened eyes with the back of his tattooed hand, struggling to pull himself together. I stand there, expressionless, letting him have his moment.

My gaze shifts calmly to my mother as she steps out from behind Jasper, a suitcase in hand containing my belongings. I take it from her, raising my chin in thanks. She offers a slight smile, her eyes soft with understanding.

"Do you want us to take you to see Cree?" she asks.

I stand tall, taking a deep breath, then give a small shake of my head. "It's best if I do this alone. I don't want him overloaded." She nods, and I continue, "I'll give you a call when Wren is ready for visitors."

She nods again, and my focus shifts to Jasper. "You need to tell Lily about my return so she can tell her parents."

When I say that, my eyes flick to my mom when I notice her give a subtle shake of her head, signalling that Jasper is still in the dark about Ghost being Wren's father—a truth I'd prefer to keep under wraps for now. The only reason I told my mom was because she'd met Ghost before, and she would have pieced it together at some family event in the future. Her reaction was one of sheer shock, just as mine had been when I first found out the truth.

My gaze locks onto Jasper's as he stares at me, clearly absorbing my words. "I don't need them staring at me like I'm a fucking ghost. They need to be prepared before visiting Wren and Lumi."

My mother's voice draws my focus as she asks, "Is that her given name?"

I nod slightly, "Lumi Bridget Hayes."

A soft smile touches her lips, and Jasper extends his hand, capturing my attention once again. "Congratulations. We have a lot to catch up on when you're ready."

I grip his hand firmly, shaking it as I gesture toward the door behind them. "Thanks for stopping by, but now get the fuck out so I can get dressed."

Jasper laughs, shaking his head as he lets go of my hand. My mom steps forward, giving me a gentle kiss on the cheek before whispering into my ear, "Let us know if you need anything; there's a brand-new phone in your suitcase. It's good to have you back, son."

I give her a small, wordless nod as she pulls away, and I watch silently as they leave, the weight of everything slowly settling around me.

After loading everything into the trunk, I slide into the driver's seat and start the car, the engine humming to life as I pull away from the house. My thoughts drift to Cree as I drive toward Sara's place. I hope I don't shock the life out of him when I walk through that fucking door. Wren's reaction was something else—she literally thought I was a fucking ghost, or that she was trapped in some nightmare. It threw me the fuck off, but I get it.

Now that I'm on my way to spend some long-overdue time with my family, there's a darker part of my mind that can't help but turn to the aftermaths of everything that's happened. The people who fucked us over as a family—they're going to pay. They have to. But how the hell do I tell Wren that her dad could've been the reason I almost died that night in Mexico? She doesn't even know who her father really is, but there's no doubt in my mind that Ghost is already aware I'm back, even if Jasper hasn't told Lily yet.

That night haunts me. I remember being dragged out of that burning mansion by two masked, armored men. Everything else is a fucking blur, but I do remember those masks—they had the Ghost logo. The same damn logo that popped up on my phone the night I killed my father. Coincidence? I fucking doubt it. What I can't wrap my head around is why one minute he saved me, and the next, he was leaving me for dead. What the fuck changed so quickly?

If Ghost really had anything to do with it, this is going to start a fucking war—a war I'll have to bring to Wren's attention soon. She's in the Elite world now, and I can't keep this from her, but for now, I need to focus on my kids and on Wren getting better. Everything else can wait.

I pull up outside Sara's house and cut the engine, the silence in the car the complete opposite to the hurricane of feelings churning inside me. I sit there for a while, trying to brace myself for what's coming. When I finally collect my thoughts, I step out of the car, the weight of the moment pressing down on me with every step I take toward the front door.

Instead of knocking, I just enter, closing the door softly behind me with an undetectable click. Almost immediately, I hear his little voice. I can't help the sob that wants to build in my throat as I press my brow against the door, my eyes closed. It's been so long since I've heard his voice, and it hits me just hearing how much he's grown since I've been gone.

I turn around, lingering in the hallway for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest, until the sound of small footsteps echoes across the marble, growing louder, closer. My body tenses as I keep my gaze fixed on where they're coming from.

When I finally see him, my entire world narrows to that one moment. He freezes the instant his wide gaze meets mine, like he's looking right through me—just as I expected. My own eyes well up as I take him in, seeing how much he's changed, how much I've fucking missed. When our eyes lock again, I soften, the overwhelming emotion almost too much to bear. Slowly, I squat down, lifting my sweatpants as I motion for him to come to me with my hand.

For a second, he just stares, holding his breath. Then, like a dam breaking, he runs at me full speed, launching himself into my arms. The impact nearly knocks me off balance, but I hold him tight, squeezing my eyes shut as he weeps into my shoulder. A tear escapes me, tracing a path down my cheek as I clutch him tightly, my heart aching with pain, relief, and love that I can hardly hold.

"It's alright, Cree. I'm back." I whisper into his ear, thick with emotion as I rub the back of his curly hair with my palm. His small body trembles against mine, and I turn my face to press a soft kiss on his cheek, then lean in, resting my brow against the side of his head, "I missed you so much, son."

His brown, tear-filled gaze meet mine as he pulls back slightly, his expression full of innocent confusion. "Wre... Wren told me you were in heaven. Did you go to see Mommy?" He stutters, and searches my eyes, desperate for answers.

I feel a pang of guilt and sadness, knowing how hard this must be for him, and I keep my voice gentle but honest as I reply, "No, Cree, I wasn't in heaven. Sadly, no one ever returns from heaven." I say, hoping to comfort him with the truth.

He tilts his head, still confused. "So, why did Wren say you were?"

I gently wipe away the tears from his cheeks with my thumbs, my heart breaking for him. "Because Wren thought I was," I explain, trying to keep it as simple as possible for him.

"So, tell me, where were you, daddy?"

I pause, searching for the right words, not wanting to load him with too much but also wanting to be truthful. "I was very far away and couldn't get back home," I respond finally, hoping that the explanation will be enough for now.

Without warning, he lunges at me again, locking his arms around my neck in a strong hug, as if he's afraid to let go. I hold him close, feeling the warmth of his little body against mine, and as I stand, I lift him with me, his head nestled against my shoulder.

"I won't leave you again, Cree," I murmur, more to myself than to him, but I know he hears it. I swear to myself that I will do everything in my fucking power to keep him safe and never let him feel this kind of pain again.

As soon as I open my wet eyes, I notice Sara standing at a distance, a very grown-up Phoebe balanced on her hip. The sight of her, with tears brimming in her eyes, tugs at something deep within me. My own gaze softens, the tension in my body easing as I extend my arm to her, inviting her into the moment. She doesn't hesitate, rushing toward me with Phoebe, and as soon as she's close enough, I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight.

She breaks down, weeping uncontrollably into my shoulder, and I feel the weight of her emotions in every shuddering breath she takes. I press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, a small gesture that's almost alien to me. It's a reminder of all the things I used to take for granted—things like my real family, connection, and the simple act of being there for someone.

For so long, I believed that no one gave a fuck about me, especially my family. Growing up, I never felt valued or loved, at least not for who I truly was beneath the monster I had become. It always seemed like I was only worth something when I was doing the most fucked-up things, getting shit done, proving myself in ways that didn't really matter, but now, standing here with Sara crying tears of relief, Cree clinging to me like a lifeline, and Phoebe watching us with those wide, innocent eyes, I realize just how fucking wrong I was.

This whole fucked-up situation has shown me that it's the reverse. People close to me clearly do give a fuck; they've all wept for me, grieved for me, and missed me in ways I never imagined they would. I'm not sure why, considering the cold cunt I've always been toward them.

I gently place my hand on the back of Sara's head, feeling the soft, silky strands of her golden-brown hair slip between my fingers. When she finally looks up at me through tear-streaked, red eyes, I press my lips to her forehead in a rare moment of tenderness.

"It's good to see you, sis," I say quietly, the words holding more weight than I ever expected them to.

She sniffles, her voice trembling, "Where's Wren?"

I raise my brows before I glance down at Cree, who lifts his head from my shoulder.

"Wren has had the baby," I tell them with a small smile.

Sara's reaction is instant—she squeals with delight, a sound so unexpected and loud that it startles Phoebe, who looks at her mom like she's lost her fucking mind. I can't help but grin at the sight before turning my attention back to Cree.

"Do you want to come to the hospital with me to meet your little sister?"

A smile slowly spreads across his face, and he gives a small, eager nod. I smile back before setting him down onto the floor, but as soon as his feet touch the ground, he clings to my leg, his grip tight. I place a reassuring hand on the back of his head, rubbing it gently as I look down at Sara.

"It's going to take some time," she says softly. "He missed you so much. We all did."

Her words hang in the air, heavy with the truth of everything I've put them through, and I nod, recognizing the pain I've caused, even if I didn't intend it.

"Let's go see your sister," I say, ruffling Cree's hair before we all turn toward the door.

I look back at Sara, catching her gaze as I take Cree's hand in mine. "I'll be in touch," I tell her. "When Wren is ready for visitors, you can come and meet Lumi."