After Dad took off, I fought for the right to look after them, but I’m not their official guardian. That’s still Dad. If they find out Dad is gone and I can’t take good care of my brothers, then they might be put into foster care, and I…
I’d die before I let that happen. Over my dead body. This is what’s worth fighting for, much more than a scholarship and college.
Second chances. The words echo in my head, and I do my best to ignore them. Not now. Not important.
Priorities. Miles and Teo depend on me. They come first.
The school bus arrives, and I watch Teo climb down. I take his hand. He gives me a tiny smile, and I kneel to check his temperature. Not one hundred percent sure, but he seems okay.
I grin, elated, and together we wait for Miles who’s approaching us slowly.
“Okay, buddy?” I ask, and he nods.
“Will you always come get us?” he asks, hope in his voice, and man, I wish I could say yes.
“We’ll see,” I say carefully. Dammit.
His eyes shift away, but not before I see sadness flash through them.
“We gonna have hot chocolate and marshmallows?” Teo is tugging on my hand.
“After dinner,” I say automatically, waiting for Miles to take my other hand. He’s staring at it—at me—suspiciously. “What?”
“Did you lose your job? Is that you’re here?”
A snort escapes me. Christ. So not funny when your ten-year-old brother worries about money in the house.
“I didn’t lose my job. I just left a little early to pick you guys up.” I ruffle his blond crew cut and grab his smaller hand in mine. “Ready? That hot chocolate and marshmallows won’t wait forever.”
With a chorus of “hot chocolate” from both Teo and Miles, we cross the street and walk toward home. Teo is singing something over and over again—I can’t catch the words—and Miles is silent. When I squeeze his hand, he doesn’t squeeze back.
I open my mouth to ask what’s on his mind, when he lifts his other hand and points. Right at our house.
Someone is standing outside, a tall, broad-shouldered figure. He seems to be peering into the house through a window.
I frown. Who can that be? It’s not Dad. Is it one of his buddies, from this new church he’s joined? A drunk? A burglar?
Dark is gathering. I slow down, pull my brothers closer and wrap my arms around them as I try to think what to do.
Then the stranger turns around and lifts a hand in greeting. A second person appears from behind him—a woman.
“Dylan!” she calls and waves at us.
Audrey. And Asher.
After a few seconds spent gaping, my brothers squirming in my hold, trying to escape, I manage to shut my open mouth and start walking.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask as we take the path up to the front door.
“Zane said you won’t make it to the concert tomorrow,” Audrey says and squats down, smiling at my brothers. “So we decided to come visit.” She winks. “We brought chocolate cake.”
Miles whoops, and Teo giggles. When Audrey opens her arms, Teo wiggles out of my hold and goes to her.
Dammit. Both Miles and Teo are so young. They need their mother. Hell, they need both their parents, and I’m a poor substitute.
Ash nods at me, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and I nod back, a bit uneasy. I didn’t exactly treat Ash nicely when he was down.
Not sure how to feel about that. Not sure what he’s thinking. We both bear the dragon tattoo. We’re brothers in this weird little family Zane put together, but the three of them—Zane, Ash and Rafe—have always been closer. I can’t help feeling like an outsider looking in.
Yeah, great self-pity party, Dylan. Christ. If I’m an outsider, it’s nobody’s fault but mine.
I let go of Miles to unlock the front door, then nudge him inside. “Come in, then.”
We file into the living room, followed by Ash and then Audrey who’s holding Teo. He looks so damn happy in her arms. Maybe I should hold him more often. Maybe—
“Dylan?” Audrey is waving a hand in front of my face. “You okay?”
I nod automatically and wander into the kitchen, trying to decide if there’s anything I can offer them.
“Hot chocolate and marshmallows!” Teo chants.
“That should go nicely with the chocolate cake,” Audrey says, a smile in her voice, and I shake my head.
The fridge contains bread, cheese, ham and lettuce for sandwiches, juice, milk, a few wrinkled apples. And beer.
Hey, look at that. I didn’t even remember I had any.
“Beer?” I ask Ash, who’s leaning against the counter, arms folded over his chest, his face unreadable.