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23. Wyatt

Chapter Twenty-Three

WYATT

Laughter hit me the second I stepped out of the car, rolling through the thick, humid evening from the back of the house. The sound stopped me in my tracks. Eden loomed in front of me, massive and timeless, its columns bathed in twilight. It was beautiful, sure, but I never thought of it as a place where people laughed much.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and wandered down the gravel path that wrapped around the house, following the smell of charcoal smoke and fresh-cut grass. Nostalgia crept in—barbecue, laughter, kids running wild—the kind of stuff that reminded me of simpler times.

Tonight was going to be anything but simple. I knew why I was here. Gage’s brothers were ready to put me through the wringer, and I’d agreed because I’d do anything for him. Even sit at a table with Dominic.

Sound and smell carried me through a stand of live oaks and out into a sprawling lawn where chaos reigned. Water balloons exploded like landmines across the grass as teenagers shrieked, soaking each other and ducking for cover. Mason crouched behind a lawn chair, barking orders at two boys while Loretta, of all people, lobbed a perfect shot over his head. The balloon nailed Gage in the back with a wet pop, and he burst out laughing.

He took my breath away, tearing across the lawn, soaked and barefoot and laughing in a way I hadn’t heard in years. His shirt clung to him, outlining every hard line of his chest, and his hair dripped water down his face. Worm huddled behind him for cover, giggling as Gage shielded him with his body. The boy tossed a balloon through Gage’s legs, hitting Mason square in the chest.

Gage’s laughter rang out, full-bodied and reckless, and I couldn’t look away.

Eden had always felt like a half-dead relic, haunted by a strange and complicated past. Not anymore. Gage and his brothers had turned it into something better. Maybe Gage had it wrong, and Boone hadn’t adopted them to carry on the Beaufort legacy. Maybe he’d wanted them to rewrite it.

I spotted Gideon leaning against an oak tree, impossibly dry and put together. Ivy sat on the ground at his feet with her knees tucked into an oversized t-shirt that nearly swallowed her petite frame. She was pulled in tight, arms wrapped around her knees, watching the fun with a standoffish expression.

I slid my hands deeper into my pockets and strolled toward them, making sure not to look directly at her. Kids like Ivy—the ones who’d been hurt—usually came in two types: the ones who lashed out and the ones who curled inward. Gage had been the first. Ivy was the second.

Her shoulders rose when she noticed me, but she didn’t look up. I let the silence hang, giving her space to decide what came next. I knew Gideon was doing exactly the same thing, serving as a silent presence and allowing her to face life on her own terms.

“You here to take me away?” she asked finally, glaring up at me.

My heart felt heavy when I looked down at her. “No,” I said softly. “You can stay as long as you want.”

Her knuckles turned white around her knees. “I’m gonna age out soon anyway,” she muttered in a voice barely louder than a whisper. Then I’ll be back on the street.”

I glanced at Gideon, but he didn’t jump in to bail me out. He just watched us with that heavy-lidded gaze that always made people feel seen—and seen through. “I don’t think it works that way here,” I said.

“I never left,” Gideon confirmed simply.

Ivy’s head came up at that. Her eyes darted between us, searching for something solid to hold on to.

“You’re safe here,” I told her. “No one’s taking you anywhere.”

She eased up a fraction, and her face lost some of that drawn, nervous look. “People think they’re safe,” she muttered, ripping at the grass, “but that just means they don’t know what’s coming.”

I crouched beside her to get a better look at her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Her swallow was a dry, clicking sound I could hear from a foot away. “I heard things about people around here. People with badges. People who look the other way for guys like…l-like the guy who tried to take me.”

A chill crept over me. “Do you know their names?”

She shook her head fast, refusing to answer. I wasn’t sure she was telling the truth, but I didn’t push. Kids like Ivy survived by keeping their mouths shut, and I couldn’t blame her for it.

“Guys like that do whatever they want,” she muttered bitterly. “They could kill someone and get away with it.”

“They wouldn’t,” I said firmly. “Not if I can help it. But I need a name, Ivy.”

Her sharp little chin lifted. “What good would it do? He’d make bail, and then he’d come and find me for payback. That’s how it works.”

I had no comeback for that. She wasn’t wrong. The DA dropped more cases than he pursued, too busy scratching backs with Vanderhoff down at the country club. Even if I arrested every bastard in the parish, it wouldn’t mean much without convictions. Ivy didn’t need to hear that, though.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” I said softly. “Gage wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Neither would I.”

Her eyes flicked to Gage across the lawn. The way her cheeks flushed told me all I needed to know. The crush wasn’t likely to last long, but right now, I could use it to my advantage. “You think he’d let someone hurt you?” I pressed.

She shook her head, whispering, “No.”

“Damn straight,” I said. “He’s got your back. So do I. The second you say a name, I’ll get him off the street. I promise you that.”

Gideon’s deep voice rumbled above us. “No one’s untouchable, Ivy. Not even men with badges.”

We were pushing too hard. She clammed up again, screwing her lips up tight, and fixed her attention on the game. Ignoring us. I let it go. Time had a way of softening edges, even sharp ones like hers. She didn’t trust authority, but she trusted Gage. That was enough for now.

I watched as he hefted a kid over his shoulder and swung him like a helicopter blade, and I smiled, soaking in his laughter. He looked so content, so alive. Helping with the kids came as naturally to him as breathing. If he could drop the idea that he was just a fighter living on borrowed time, he could make a real difference here, doing work that mattered.

As if he felt me watching, Gage looked up and flashed me a grin. He raked a hand through his hair, shaking out droplets, and started toward me with an easy swagger that made my breath hitch. Before I could say a word, he’d pulled me to my feet and kissed me hard. Water dripped from his hair, cool and sweet on my lips, and I cradled his face in both hands to get a better taste.

A round of sarcastic applause greeted us when Gage finally pulled away.

“Damn,” Luis groaned, covering his eyes with one hand. “Get a room, bro!”

Gage hadn’t released me, and his chuckle rumbled against my chest. “Good idea. The adults need a minute to dry off. Thanks for volunteering to clean up, boys.”

While the boys let out a round of exaggerated groans, I glanced over at Ivy. She was staring at the grass, cheeks red as fire, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. I’d take it.

“Lord, I’m soaked!” Loretta complained, wringing out her mass of frizzy curls. “I still need a few hands to wrap up leftovers before y’all start a movie.”

“Why are we stuck cleaning?” JJ whined, crawling around on his hands and knees, plucking bits of colored balloon from the grass. “I still don’t see why the grown-ups get a separate dinner. What are you serving them that we didn’t get?”

“Collard greens,” Loretta answered with a straight face.

“I like collard greens!” But the way his nose wrinkled told us all he was lying.

Mason lobbed one last water balloon in good-natured spite and then reached down to ruffle JJ’s hair. “You’re better off with barbecue and a movie, kid. The big table’s just for talk.”

“You already talk too much,” Luis retorted with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re not wrong,” Mason said wryly, checking his wristwatch. “Speaking of which, I need to handle something before we sit down.”

“Oh, me too,” Gage chimed in, wrapping a possessive arm around my waist and tugging me toward the house. “Come on. We need to change.”

“We do, huh?” I glanced down at my dry shirt. “You think I need to change?”

His eyes skimmed playfully down my body, and he reached out to toy with one of the rolled-up sleeves on my white button-down. “Might be safer if you did,” he said playfully. “Can’t have you looking too good, or my brothers might get ideas.”

I shook my head, amused, but not believing a word of it. I wasn’t exactly primed to steal the show in a dress shirt and a pair of jeans.

His hand slid down to mine, lacing our fingers together and tugging me up the porch steps. “Come on,” he said, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “We’ll get through dinner quick. Then we can have the rest of the night to ourselves.”

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