Dylan(14)

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.

“Sure.”

“Audrey likes kids, huh?”

His face softens. His mouth crooks up in a lopsided grin. “She does.”

I follow his gaze to where Audrey’s humming and turning in a circle, a giggling Teo on her hip.

For a moment, I see another face on my old friend’s face—blue eyes, a wide mouth, golden hair.

Tess.

I blink, and it’s again Audrey, green-eyed and freckled, her wild red curls bouncing.

“Need help with that?” Ash says, and I realize I’ve been standing there, a beer in one hand, staring at his girlfriend.

Fucking hell.

“Sorry, man. Here.” I hand him the beer and fish two more from the fridge. “Can you open them? I’ll make the hot chocolate for the kids, and I’ll order a pizza or something.”

“I’ve got this,” Ash says. “My treat.” And he turns away, pulling out his cell.

I say nothing, instead swallowing hard. My chest is tight with a funny feeling—part relief because money is tight, part embarrassment, and part anger. Whether it’s directed at Ash for showing up to feed us all dinner, when I failed him so spectacularly in the past, or at myself, is anybody’s guess.

I open the cupboard to get the marshmallows and chocolate powder and find a scrap of paper taped inside the door. Something is written on it, in Dad’s hieroglyphic scrawl.

‘Cleanse this house with fire.’

What, now he decided to take issue with my cleaning abilities? Not up to his standards, are they?

Disgusted, and also relieved to be distracted from my previous thoughts, I grab the ingredients I need and pour milk in a pan to heat. I work on auto-pilot, the stress of the day catching up on me. Coach West’s words about second chances won’t stop echoing in my head.

Great. Just what I need. Doubts. Confusion. Hope.

I carry the mugs into the living room and find Ash playing a game of Risk with Miles, and Audrey tickling Teo. His chubby cheeks are flushed, and panic grips me for a moment. Is he running a fever again? Then again, would he be laughing like that if he were sick?

“Anyone want hot chocolate, or should I have it?” I mutter, wincing when my stomach grumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten all day as I ran from home to college to work and back.

Predictably, Teo escapes Audrey’s clutches with a cry of “Me, me!” and lunges for his mug, which I barely catch in time before it crashes to the floor.

Miles rolls his eyes at me, reminding me he’s almost a teenager, and ow, that’s gonna hurt in the next couple of years. He gets up and grabs his mug nevertheless. Still likes his hot chocolate, and when I reach out to ruffle his hair, he ducks only half-heartedly.

The doorbell rings, and Ash shoots to his feet. He heads for the door before I can blink. I hear him talk to the delivery boy, and then he’s back, carrying a stack of pizzas.

“Dammit, Ash, we can’t eat all that.” Heat climbs my neck, more unease and embarrassment than anything else. “Look, I’ll pay for it.”