CHAPTER SEVEN
Fallon
THE SUPERNATURAL THEME SONG CAME THROUGH MY PHONE’S speakers, and I groaned, rolling over and inhaling deeply. The scents of oakmoss and amber filled my nose as I pressed my face into the pillow. Clinging to it, I slowly opened my eyes to all things Kye.
Bedding in shades of gray. Textured cement walls.
Industrial bookcases filled with books on the art of tattooing, mixed martial arts, and the occasional sci-fi novel.
Knickknacks that marked different things and times in his life, like a snow globe that matched the one he’d given me from New York.
Various family photos. Pictures of Kye with the kids from his youth program at an MMA fight.
I gripped the pillow tighter and breathed in Kye’s scent again. As I closed my eyes, memories from last night returned in flashes: the girls, Kye losing it, the words he’d spoken.
“I want to take them. I want to give them a home. I want to make sure they’re never scared again. I want to make sure they always know they’re wanted. That someone chose them.”
Those words would haunt me for the rest of my days. Especially the pain that lived in them—the pain that lived in Kye.
My phone dinged, and I forced myself to release the pillow that smelled like him and roll to sitting. I snatched my phone off the nightstand and unplugged it from Kye’s charger.
A group text illuminated the screen, one I’d started last night when I asked Serena and Evan if they could handle the mess at the gym before opening.
Serena:
What the hell happened?
She’d obviously made it in early. I worried the corner of my lip. It wasn’t my place to share.
Me:
It’s a long story. But Kye’s okay.
That might be a lie, and I knew the gossip mill would put the pieces together before long, but I wouldn’t help it along.
Evan:
Already at the hardware store, Ser. Getting stuff to patch the wall and some paint.
Me:
Thanks, guys.
Serena:
Let me know if he needs anything. I’m here.
Evan:
Me, too.
For everything Kye had been through, he’d found himself an amazing community.
Built it with people who each had a story.
I knew Serena had found MMA after escaping an abusive relationship, and Evan had run away from home at sixteen.
Kye found people who shared elements of his pain and helped them heal.
I just hoped I could do the same for him.
Me:
Thanks again, guys. You’re doing it.
Standing, I stretched, Kye’s oversized T-shirt riding up my thighs. My whole body ached—probably from throwing myself at the six-foot-five mountain of a man last night. But I’d do it again if it meant soothing even a little of his pain.
The sounds of movement in the apartment’s small kitchen had me heading in that direction.
As I crossed the threshold, I found Kye wearing a faded Haven T-shirt with low-slung gray joggers.
The tee was so old it was worn in places and hugged his chest in a way that had my eyes lingering there, my fingers tightening into fists at my sides.
“Morning,” Kye said, his voice still gritty from sleep as he set two mugs on the counter.
My gaze jerked to his face. It wasn’t unusual for me to spend the night here. It happened from time to time when we stayed up too late having a movie marathon or when I talked Kye into a rewatch of Supernatural. He always made me take his bed and opted to sleep on the couch.
But today was different. I searched his face, tracing the dark shadows beneath his eyes. “Did you sleep at all?”
He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Maybe a couple of hours.”
I moved then, drawn by some invisible tether between us.
As if his pain called to mine. I went straight to him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and pressed my face to his chest. But I didn’t say a word.
Anything I offered now would be a useless platitude.
Instead, I just held on. Like I always would.
Kye’s chin rested atop my head, and his arms encircled me. “Can I see them today? I need them to know … to know I’m here.”
My body stiffened ever so slightly, and I forced myself to pull back. “Because you don’t have an existing relationship with them and haven’t been cleared by a background check, regulations won’t allow visitation just yet.”
A muscle in Kye’s jaw fluttered. “They need to know.”
“They will. When the time is right, they will. In the meantime, I’ll be there for them.”
Kye’s hold on me tightened, those tattooed fingers stressing his point. “I still want to file.”
It was the decision I was waiting for. “You’re sure?”
His amber eyes searched mine. “You don’t think I can do it?”
My fingers fisted in his tee. “I know you can do it. I know those girls will be beyond lucky to have you in their lives. But I want you to take the time to make sure this is what you want.”
Kye’s hand slid to the back of my neck and squeezed gently. “This is what I want. Tell me what I need to do.”
I watched his face as he spoke, looking for any signs of doubt. There were none. God, he was such a good man. But he tried to hide it beneath layers of shadow and humor. As if he didn’t want anyone to see just how amazing he truly was.
“Okay.” I let out a long breath as I reached for the coffee mug and took a sip. “First things first. You’ll never be approved with this as your residence. A home visit is required, and there isn’t enough room here for the girls.”
Kye reached for his mug, his large hand engulfing it as he stared into the black liquid. “I’ve got another place. There’s plenty of room there.”
I blinked back at him a few times. “You have … another place?”
A foreign feeling nibbled at my chest. Something that felt a lot like betrayal. As if Kye had some secret life he hadn’t told me about.
Kye’s gaze lifted to meet my eyes. “It’s not like that. I had it built years ago. I just … it never felt like the right time to move in.”
“You built a house and didn’t tell me? Did Shep do it?”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” Kye stressed.
The feeling of betrayal morphed into pure hurt. “I’m not just anyone.”
“Sparrow,” he whispered.
That only made it hurt worse.
Kye closed the small distance between us and set his coffee on the counter before hooking his pinky with mine. “You’re my person. Always.”
Pain and pleasure warred inside me in equal measure as tears pressed against the backs of my eyes. “I’m here. Whatever you need.”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead, letting his lips linger. “I know you are.”
My poor little hatchback sputtered as I pulled to a stop outside the McKenzies’ house, and I started to doubt my girl would make it through the winter. Sighing, I grabbed the massive bag from The Mix Up and climbed out of my car. As I did, I saw a familiar figure getting out of an SUV ahead of me.
Trace wore a somber look as he pulled bags out of the back seat of his vehicle. I recognized the name of a bigger store from a town over—one of the few that would be open this early. God, my brother had such a good heart. And I knew by his presence that Gabriel had filled him in on everything.
He caught me looking and grimaced. “It’s dumb. It’s not like toys and books will fix what’s going on.”
I shook my head. “It shows you care.”
Trace searched my face. “How is he?”
“Not good,” I said honestly. When I left Kye, he still had shadows swirling in his eyes but was no less determined to get the ball rolling on custody. “He wants to file for custody of the girls.”
Trace’s brows all but hit his hairline. “Seriously?”
I nodded.
“I knew he’d want to be involved, but custody?” Trace let out a low whistle.
“Don’t say anything to them. Not until we know what’s what.”
The expression on Trace’s face morphed into an assessing one. He would forever be the brother who saw …more. “You’re not sure he’ll get it.”
I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “He has some things to overcome.”
“His record?”
I nodded. “He’ll need to prove that he can provide a safe and stable environment for the girls. And he needs a bigger place. But he said he already has one.”
Trace stared at me, and his jaw slackened the slightest bit. “I always wondered where he went when he did his disappearing acts.”
I had, too. Only my mind had invented something that made me sick to my stomach to think about. Something that involved shacking up with a woman for days on end.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” I muttered.
Trace scrubbed a hand over his stubbled cheek. “I guess.”
“Come on. I don’t want our breakfast getting cold,” I said, starting up the front walkway to the adorable Craftsman.
Trace peered at my bag. “You got an extra in there? I left before I could make myself breakfast.”
I grinned at my brother. “I didn’t know what the girls liked, so I brought lots of options. But you pick last.”
Trace chuckled. “Fair enough. Just don’t tell Keely and Ellie that I got The Mix Up for breakfast. They’ll be jealous.”
My lips twitched. “I’ll take it to the grave.”
I knocked lightly on the front door. A few moments later, a gray-haired woman with countless laugh lines opened it. “Fallon. Morning.”
I held up the bag. “I come bearing gifts.”
Her mouth curved. “You’re too good to us.”
The McKenzies were in their seventies and no longer did long-term fostering, but they were still able to do emergency short-term placements. And the home they’d created was the perfect place for kids to rest and begin the healing process.
“Morning, Edith,” Trace greeted.
“Good to see you, Trace,” she said as she stepped back and ushered us in.
I peeked around the living room and into the kitchen but didn’t see the girls. “How are they doing?”
Edith’s lips thinned, and I saw worry in her eyes. “I heard the little one crying last night. I checked on her, but I don’t think my presence helped.”
That ache flared to life in my chest again. “They’re pretty used to going it alone, I think.”