Chapter 26
PARKER
The dining room at the main house feels warm in a way I’d forgotten—candles flickering in the chandelier overhead, the smell of Mom’s famous pot roast mixing with garlic bread and something chocolate baking in the kitchen.
Laughter bounces off the high ceilings as Lottie and Jimmy compete to tell the most dramatic version of their school day.
“And then the teacher said we could pick ANY book from the library,” Lottie announces, her seven-year-old voice pitched with the gravity of world-changing news. “ANY book!”
“That’s so cool!” Noah practically vibrates in his seat. “We got to pick books too! I picked one about rockets!”
“I picked one about animals,” Liam adds more quietly, cutting his food into precise pieces. “It has pictures of every kind of bear.”
“Every kind?” Mom asks, her sea-glass eyes—so like mine, so like Charles’s—warm with genuine interest. “Even polar bears?”
“Especially polar bears.” Liam’s rare smile appears. “Did you know they’re the biggest land carnivores?”
I’m watching this unfold—my sons at a family table, surrounded by people who love them, talking about their day with the kind of excitement only children can muster—and something in my chest cracks open.
This is what I wanted for them. Family. Belonging.
Normalcy wrapped in the complicated reality of who we are.
But my mind keeps wandering.
To Jace in the back of the SUV this morning, his hand cupping my face, our lips inches apart before Charles’s voice crackled through the comm.
To Cal in my bedroom a few days ago, holding my bed frame together while making jokes about ceiling architecture, his amber eyes full of heat that he was barely restraining.
To Silas in the hallway outside McCoy’s office, kissing me like he was drowning and I was air.
“Mom?” Noah’s voice pulls me back. “Mom, did you hear me?”
“Sorry, baby. What?”
“I said Jake wants to come over to play! Can he? Please?”
“We’ll see,” I say automatically. “After we get more settled.”
“Parker was telling me about the operational assessments,” Charles says, seamlessly redirecting. “Sounds like the meetings went well today. Mostly.”
“Mostly,” I echo, taking a long sip of wine.
“Ryan Matthews asked her out,” Charles continues, and I nearly choke.
“Charles—”
“Out where?” Noah interrupts. “Like to the park?”
“No, buddy.” Charles grins at me over his wine glass, clearly enjoying this. “He asked your mom to dinner. Like a date.”
Both boys turn to stare at me with identical expressions of confusion.
“But Mommy has dinner with us every night,” Liam says carefully. “Does Mr. Ryan want to have dinner with us, too?”
“No, sweetie. It would just be—” I shoot Charles a look that promises violence.
“It would be a work dinner. To discuss business.” Of all things for my brother to bring up in front of my kids.
“If it even happens,” I add quickly. “Which it probably won’t.
I’d have to check my calendar, and it’s very full and—”
“You should go,” Charles says, ignoring my glare. “Ryan’s good people. Smart, ambitious, runs a clean operation. And he’s single. When was the last time you went on an actual date, Parks?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Six years?” he presses. “Seven?”
“Charles,” Sienna says warningly, but there’s amusement in her voice.
“I’m just saying, my sister deserves to have a life outside of work and kids. And Ryan seemed genuinely interested. Not in a creepy way. In a ‘wow, Parker Carter is impressive, and I’d like to get to know her better’ way.”
“At most,” I say firmly, “it would be coffee. Or a work lunch. Nothing that requires a babysitter or formal planning.”
“I’m just trying to help,” Charles says innocently. “Ryan’s a good guy. He’d treat you right.”
“How did the attack squad react to that?” Sienna asks casually, but her dark eyes are sharp. Knowing.
Charles snorts into his wine. “What? They don’t care who Parker sees. Why would they care?”
Mom makes a soft sound—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Oh, my dear son. You’re so adorable.”
“What?” Charles looks between our mother and Sienna. “What did I say? Why am I adorable?”
“No reason, darling.” She smiles serenely, taking a delicate sip of her wine before catching my eye across the table. She winks.
My face heats. Because, of course, Mom knows. Has probably always known. Mothers see everything.
“Can someone please explain—,” Charles starts, but Jimmy interrupts with a story about recess, and the moment passes.
Dinner continues in that chaotic, warm way that family dinners do—overlapping conversations, laughter, the occasional argument about who gets the last roll. My sons fit into it seamlessly, like they’ve always been here. Like this is home.
And maybe it is.
After dinner, the kids tumble outside to play in the sprawling backyard—chasing each other under the oak trees, their laughter carrying through the open French doors. Charles and Mom move to the sitting room to discuss something business-related.
I’m clearing plates when Sienna appears beside me.
“Leave them,” she says. “Staff will handle it. Come outside with me.”
It’s not really a question.
We step onto the terrace, warm evening air wrapping around us. The boys are visible in the distance, playing some elaborate game that involves a lot of running and shrieking.
“So,” Sienna says, leaning against the stone railing. “Ryan Matthews.”
“There’s no Ryan Matthews,” I say immediately. “Charles is being Charles.”
“Mhmm.” She takes a sip of her wine. “And how do Jace, Cal, and Silas feel about Ryan asking you out?”
“I don’t know. Why would that matter?”
Sienna gives me a look—the kind that says she sees straight through my bullshit and is choosing to be patient about it.
“Parker. Tell me the truth.”
“About what?”
“About them.” She gestures vaguely. “About the three men who’ve been watching you like you’re the only thing in the room since you got back. The three men who made pancakes in your kitchen and assembled your furniture and clearly have feelings that go way beyond ‘Charles’s best friends.’”
My stomach drops. “I don’t—”
“When Charles and I were dating,” Sienna continues, cutting off my denial, “I noticed things. How they behaved around you versus when you weren’t there.
Even when you weren’t physically present, you were present to them.
Cal was checking your social media constantly.
Jace was always finding reasons to be wherever you were.
Silas listened to conversations from three rooms away if your name was mentioned. ”
She pauses, studying me.
“At first I thought they were just... overprotective. Maybe obsessed in an unhealthy way. But then I saw how they looked at you. All three of them. Like you were precious. Like you were theirs.”
“Sienna—”
“And at the wedding,” she continues relentlessly, “it was so obvious. The way they watched you. The way you watched them. That electricity between all of you that everyone could feel but nobody wanted to acknowledge.” Her voice softens.
“And then you left. Disappeared back to California. And the day Dominic ordered them to leave you alone, to wipe your existence from the Carter business—Parker, they looked devastated. Lost.”
Tears prick my eyes. I blink them back.
“It took years for them to seem normal again,” Sienna says quietly. “And now you’re back. With two sons. Born nine months after that wedding.” She lets that hang in the air. “So I’ll ask again. How do Jace, Cal, and Silas feel about Ryan Matthews asking you out?”
I take a shaky breath. “They don’t like it.”
“I imagine not.”
“Cal made jokes. Jace said I should go, but that they’d be nearby. Just in case.” I laugh without humor. “Just in case Ryan forgets that touching my arm too much is what got him relocated in the first place.”
Sienna’s eyebrows raise. “They relocated him?”
“Supposedly he got a sudden ‘scholarship opportunity,’” I drain my wine glass. “They manipulated his entire life trajectory because he asked me out at graduation.”
“Of course they did.”
“And today at the McCoy meeting—” I stop. Start again. “McCoy touched me inappropriately and suggested I could work in his clubs. And Silas—” My voice catches. “Silas stabbed him, through the hand and pinned it to the table.”
I wait for shock. Horror. Some kind of reaction.
Sienna just looks at me. “Yeah. And?”
“And?” I stare at her. “He stabbed someone at a business meeting!”
“He stabbed someone who touched his woman inappropriately.” Sienna corrects, “Their woman. Of course, he stabbed him. What else was he going to do?”
“Not stab him?” I suggest weakly.
“Parker.” Sienna sets down her wine glass and takes both my hands. “You’re in a world where violence is currency. Where respect is earned through shows of strength. Silas sending that message was him establishing your position in the hierarchy.”
“I don’t want a position established through violence.”
“I know. And that’s admirable. But you can’t rebuild this organization without understanding how it works first.” She squeezes my hands. “Did McCoy respect you before or after Silas stabbed him?”
I think about it. About McCoy’s dismissive attitude, his condescending tone. And then, after—the way his face went pale, the way he agreed to my assessment without argument.
“After,” I admit quietly.
“Exactly.” Sienna releases my hands. “I’m not saying violence is always the answer. But sometimes it’s the language people understand. And Silas—all three of them—they’re fluent.”
“There’s more,” I whisper.
“More?”
“He kissed me.” The words tumble out. “Silas. In the hallway after. He just—he kissed me. Hard. Like he’d been waiting years to do it.”
Sienna’s jaw drops.
“Oh,” I say, “that gets a reaction.”
“He kissed you?” She’s staring at me like I just announced aliens are real. “When? How? Did you kiss him back?”
“Yes,” I admit. “I kissed him back. And it was—” I press my hands to my face.
“It was everything. I melted. Let him consume me. And then when we pulled apart, he asked if I was okay, and I asked why he did that, and he said—” My voice drops to barely above a whisper.
“‘Why did I do what? The stabbing or the kissing?’“
Sienna makes a sound between a laugh and a gasp.
“And this morning in the car,” I continue, the words flowing now that I’ve started, “Jace. We almost kissed. We were so close. Sharing breath. And then Charles’s voice came through the comm, and we pulled apart like teenagers getting caught.”
“Jesus, Parker.”
“And a few days ago, Cal was helping me build my bed frame, and we were joking, and there was heat and tension and—” I drop my hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to do this. Any of this.”
Sienna is quiet for a moment, processing. Then she starts laughing—genuine, delighted laughter that makes me want to sink into the terrace stones.
“It’s not funny!”
“It’s a little funny.” She wipes her eyes. “Parker, you have three men who are desperately in love with you. Who’ve waited six years for you to come home. Who are the fathers of your children—”
“We don’t know that for sure—”
“Please.” Sienna rolls her eyes. “Everyone with functioning eyes knows it. The resemblance is undeniable. The only question is which one is Liam’s father and which one is Noah’s.”
“Heteropaternal Superfecundation Twins,” I say quietly. “Twins with different fathers. The hospital confirmed it when they were born.”
Sienna goes very still. “Both of them? They’re both—”
“Yes.”
“Does Charles know?”
“That the boys have different fathers? Yes. That those fathers are two of his three best friends?” I shake my head. “No. He’s oblivious. You saw him at dinner.”
“Charles sees what he wants to see,” Sienna says gently. “But Parker, you can’t hide this forever. Especially not now that you’re all living on the same compound.”
“I know.” My voice cracks. “We’re supposed to talk tonight. After the boys go to sleep. All four of us. About everything.”
“Everything?”
“Boundaries. The past. The boys. What happens now?” I wrap my arms around myself. “I’m terrified.”
“Of course you are.” Sienna pulls me into a hug. “But you’re also brave. You left when you needed to. Raised two incredible boys on your own. Built a life. And now you’re back, facing everything you ran from. That takes courage.”
“Or stupidity.”
“Sometimes they’re the same thing.” She pulls back, hands on my shoulders. “My advice? Be honest. All of you. No more secrets. No more running. Figure out what you want—not what you think you should want, but what you actually want. And then fight for it.”
“What if what I want is impossible?”
“What if it’s not?” Sienna counters. “What if the impossible thing is actually the only thing that makes sense?”
I look at her—this woman who married my brother, who’s built a life in this complicated world, who somehow makes it all work.
“How do you do it?” I ask. “Love someone in this life? Raise kids? Build something good in all this darkness?”
“By choosing it every day,” she says simply. “By being honest about what you need and what you can’t accept. By setting boundaries and enforcing them. And by trusting that the people you love will show up, even when it’s hard.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“Love usually is.” She smiles. “But it’s also worth it. Trust me.”
Through the French doors, I see Charles looking for us. Probably wondering where we disappeared to.
“We should go back,” I say.
“In a minute.” Sienna holds my gaze. “Parker, whatever happens tonight—whatever you decide—know that you’re not alone. You have me. You have Charles. You have family. And you have three men who would burn the world down for you and those boys.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Then set boundaries,” she says. “Tell them what you need. What you’ll accept and what you won’t. But don’t run. Promise me you won’t run.”
I take a breath. “I promise.”
“Good.” She links her arm through mine. “Now come on. Let’s rescue your children from whatever elaborate game they’ve invented.”
We walk back inside together, and I can feel it—the weight of tonight settling over me like an atmosphere. The conversation I’ve been avoiding for six years. The truth I can’t keep hiding.
The boys are still playing. Charles is laughing at something Mom said. The house smells like family and home and possibility.
And fifty yards away, three men are waiting.
For answers. For truth. For me.
Ready or not, everything changes tonight.