Anger. There it is again. So much anger that is compounded by every little thought and image. By every memory and every possibility I didn’t know about.
I grip the handle of the gate tightly, trying to get myself in check, thinking maybe I should’ve had that drink before I left.
“No one’s home,” a voice calls from behind me.
Slowly I turn to face the uninvited person. Irritation I’m struggling with slithers up my spine at the sight of a man who looks entirely too comfortable to engage with me. Like he thinks he belongs here.
I slip off my sunglasses and toss him a derisive smirk. “I could guess that by the lack of vehicles in the driveway, but thanks for letting me know, mate.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, widening his stance in an attempt to intimidate me. He’s not a small guy. My height, but with a larger frame and a few more pounds of muscle. He’s definitely used to his size scaring people off.
Unfortunately for him, I don’t scare easily, and not by people like him at all.
“You can run along now,” I flick my finger, shooing him away like an annoying bug buzzing around me.
“Aren’t you several years too late?”
And there it is. The territorial bullshit. Bullshit because despite what he may believe this isn’t his territory. It’s mine.
“And you must be several years past common sense to talk to me like that, mate. Don’t pretend to know me.”
“I don’t need to know you to know you’re the deadbeat that left her to raise your kid alone.”
I take a step toward him with my fists clenched at my side. My fingers dig into my palms so tightly, I’m surprised I don’t draw blood. “Don’t assume you know shit about me. For that matter, don’t assume you know shit about her.”
I grab him, teeth bared, ready to beat the fuck out of his stupid face, when I hear car doors slam. “Ryder! Don’t!” she calls out, panic clear in her voice.
She grabs my arm, pulling me. The electricity from her touch sends a jolt right through me. Just like before. I look down into her pleading eyes. More anger floods me. Anger that she’s protecting this dumb shit. Anger that he knows her. Anger that he knows Tyler.
But that look, that’s the look that has had more than one apology falling from my mouth. That’s the look I need to protect myself against.
I open my mouth to say something spiteful to counteract the feeling when I catch sight of an older boy, probably late teens, and a little gangly kid with hazel eyes full of mischief and scruffy dark blond hair.
Tyler.
My son.
My chest squeezes with something I never truly understood until this moment. Something I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced. Pure, unconditional love.
It takes everything in me to stay upright.
I release the guy and take a step back. I will not let my son see that side of me. Ever.
“Why are you even here? They don’t need you. You never wanted them.” He wraps an arm around Heaven and the need to break his arm begins to bloom. “I’ve been here for her. So why don’t you go, crawl back onto your tour bus, and forget about them.”
I grit my teeth, but it’s Heaven who shoves him. “Brett, stop,” she yells.
“You’re not serious?” he asks, looking genuinely surprised. “Heaven, after what he did, how can you let him anywhere near you?”
I grind my teeth. I don’t want to do this in front of my son. And any neighbors or nosey paparazzi that may be hiding in the bushes. We’ve been fortunate so far that no one has found us yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
But that control that snapped hasn’t returned yet, and my patience is wearing thin.
“I’m dead serious. Stop this right now. You have no right interfering,” she tells him, looking like a little pissed off tiger cub.
“You heard her,” I say, dropping my voice so only he can hear. “Go sniff out someone else’s pussy because she’s mine.”
She whips around on me. Her eyes narrow in anger, but there is not an utterance of denial that passes those pretty lips.
