Tyler(79)

Which is absurd. I’ve just met him. But whenever he turns to me and says “Daddy!” I want to laugh out loud with joy.

I have a family. I have Erin, Asher and Jax. And I can’t remember ever being happier in my life.

After everyone’s gone and Jax is fast asleep, we talk. I tell Erin more about Uncle Jerry and my life in Chicago, about James and even Marlene to whom I have sent a message letting her know I’m with someone else and to fuck off. She hasn’t written since. As for James, I told him I’m not moving back to Chicago. He told me he had a gut feeling about it, so he already gave my job to the temp.

That fucker. Then again, I don’t plan on going back, so who cares?

In her turn, Erin told me more about the time I left—about finding out she was pregnant, about the hormone changes and terrible mood swings that led to the fight we had. Then we kiss until we pass out on the couch.

Sunday, I drive Erin’s car to her parents’ home. Erin is in the passenger seat, Jax in the back, and I feel like I’m traveling through a dream. I’m in a bit of a shock, I think. When we reach the house and Erin’s dad comes out to greet us, when he claps my back and tells me they’re glad to finally have me back, I stare at him, speechless.

Thank God he laughs and drags me inside. I remember Erin’s mom, a nice lady. When I pass through her cozy kitchen, I decide I’ve solved the mystery of Erin’s and Jax’s sugar scent. I bet Erin’s mom bakes cake every day. There are four of them on the table, decorated with icing and fruit.

We don’t stay long. Her parents offer coffee and cake—see, I knew it—and make small talk, asking how I’ve been, and what I do for a living. It’s obvious they know Jax is my son, but they don’t ask why I left.

During the conversation, I find out that having Jax wasn’t easy on Erin. She was in a clinic for two months before the birth and two weeks after, plus that cost a hell of a lot of dollars. And then Erin says she wants to leave college. Because of the debts.

Debts.

I sit up, shaking off my daze. “I’ll help.”

Erin glances at me, the gold and green flecks in her eyes lighting up. “Tyler…”

“I don’t have much, and I pay Ash something to help him finish school, but I have…” I glance at Jax who’s playing with a toy truck on the carpet, then back at Erin’s beautiful face. “I have my bike. It can bring me ten grand, maybe more, and I have my job at Damage Control, so…”

“Tyler, no.” Erin reaches for my hand and tangles her slender fingers with mine. “You love that bike.”

I do, it’s true. But… “Not as much as you.”

Silence settles in the room, and I hope I haven’t said something I shouldn’t have—but Erin presses a feather-light kiss to my cheek.

“Love you, Tyler Grayson.” Her smile is sweet. “We’ll talk about this later, okay? Don’t go selling your bike just yet.”

“As long as you don’t give up on your dreams,” I counter, holding her gaze, letting her know I’m serious. “We can do this together.”

“Oh, he’s a keeper, this one,” Erin’s mom says, and I feel my face heat. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut and talk to Erin later, in private?

But Erin nods. “Definitely a keeper,” she whispers and nothing else matters.

***

Monday afternoon finds me at Damage Control, at my usual spot behind the desk, welcoming customers, making appointments and wondering if the weekend really happened.

It must have, because I receive a message from Erin with a photo of Jax she took on Sunday at her parents’ house. He’s holding his red toy truck, lips pursed, eyes bright.

There’s a weight on my chest, but it feels good. I can’t stop smiling. Jax. He’ll be staying with his grandparents for now, as he’s used to, but we’ll have him over for the weekend again.

We should get an apartment together. We should—

Zane passes by and claps me on the shoulder, followed by Rafe. They stop in front of the desk and Zane gives me a once-over.

I scowl at him. “What?”

“You have a scar on your stomach,” he says without preamble.

What the fuck? I put down my phone, cold slicing through me. “Yeah, so?”

“But you didn’t cover it up with ink.”

I resist the urge to press a hand to my stomach, over the scar under discussion. “After I had my chest tattooed, I realize the ink wouldn’t really cover it completely. So I left it as it is.”

“It’s a good place,” Rafe says. “You’re right.”

“I have one that will fit just right.” Zane nods. “I’ll do it.”