Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Harper
Just as we're getting ready to grab Wyatt from school, there's a knock at Ace's door.
He moves fast, grabbing the gun from the side table, tucking it into the back of his jeans, and opening the door.
I stand in the living room, clutching my purse like it's a lifeline as my phone vibrates in there.
I've promised my parents I'll see them tonight.
I've hardly been home. I've been with Ace, and my mother's texts have gone from polite to passive-aggressive to just aggressive.
Hunter walks in, nodding at me. I smile politely.
He pulls off his hat and drops it on Ace's side table, and something about the way he moves tells me this isn't a casual visit. His jaw is tight. His shoulders are locked.
"Do you want me to— " I point upstairs, offering to give them space.
He shakes his head. Ace smiles at me.
"Nah. All good, Harper," Hunter says, dropping onto the sofa like the weight of him could crack it in half. "You got a beer?"
Ace frowns. "Yeah."
He walks toward me first, his hand finding my waist, pulling me in close.
"This is weird as shit," he whispers against my ear, and I have to press my lips together to stop the laugh.
He grabs his brother a beer, then comes back and takes my hand, guiding us onto the opposite sofa. His arm goes around my shoulder, and I tuck into his side.
"You wanna tell me why you look so…" Ace pauses. Tips his head. "I don't know the word. This is a new emotion for you, Hunter."
Hunter chuckles, draining half the beer in one pull.
"I had to get out of the house. All hell's broken loose, and that ain't the place for me right now."
"Is everything okay?" I ask.
"Violet just dropped the bomb that she's pregnant."
"Oh, shit," Ace hisses.
My heart jumps straight into my throat. No. It's not Ace's. He told me he hasn't slept with anyone. I trust him. But the thought fires through me before I can stop it, and I turn to look at him.
Ace arches an eyebrow; he reads me instantly. "You better not ask me what I think is rattling around in that brain of yours, Goldie."
I press a kiss to his cheek. "I won't."
He pulls me tighter against him. "Good girl," he murmurs, low enough that only I hear it, and my stomach flips.
"Is it Jett's?" Ace asks Hunter, sounding almost horrified.
Hunter laughs. "In this situation, it would've been better for everyone involved if Jett were the father. Nah. It's her ex. That asshole who left them in a bar shootout and then skipped town."
He rubs a hand over his jaw. The frustration rolls off him in waves.
"That's awful," I say. I can't help myself. The investigator in me never shuts off. "Does he know she's having his baby?"
Hunter nods. "Yeah. Wants nothing to do with her or the kid. He ain't coming back to New Falls. Not that he’s welcome here anyway."
My heart sinks.
"Is she okay?" I ask.
Hunter shrugs. "Lola's looking after her, or trying to calm her down. But Lola's pregnant too. She doesn't need the extra stress."
"What kind of man does that?" Ace says, his voice dropping into something harder. "Doesn't show up for his kid? Want me to track him down? I’ll drag his ass back here and make him be a father. Or kill him. Either works."
I smile and lean my head against his chest. Because, of course, that's his answer.
"Well, I thought that too," Hunter says. "But it ain't our fight to get involved in yet. Violet's a feisty woman. If she wants him dead, she'll tell us."
I blow out a breath. The fact that this is a completely normal conversation between brothers.
"Alright." Ace shifts beneath me. "Well, we're grabbing Wyatt from school and taking him for dinner. You coming?"
"I'm fully aware you're picking my son up, Ace," Hunter says dryly, pulling out his phone.
"I got Romeo calling in a bit. We're digging into Graves. Reckon we've narrowed down the guy who killed Gianna's brother to three possible locations. We're going to assess whether we make the hit yet or not."
Ace nods. Business. Just like that. A beat of silence where the room holds something heavier than either of them shows, and then it passes.
"Keep me updated," Ace says, standing and pulling me up with him. "We've got ice cream to eat. Lock up when you're done hiding here."
Hunter flips him off without looking up from his phone.
Wyatt spots Ace's truck before we've even pulled up to the curb, and he comes barrelling out of the school gates like a tiny human cannonball.
"Uncle Ace! Uncle Ace! Uncle Ace!"
Ace catches him mid-launch, swinging him up with one arm like he weighs nothing.
"Alright, little man. Easy. You're gonna take us both out."
"I drew a picture of Penny today." Wyatt shoves a crumpled piece of paper into Ace's face. "Mrs. Delgado said it was really good. She said the ears were very realistic."
Ace studies the drawing with a level of seriousness that makes my chest ache. It's a brown blob with two triangles on top and what might be legs. Or tentacles.
"That's exactly what she looks like," Ace says. "You nailed it."
Wyatt beams. Then he notices me and goes shy for about three seconds before curiosity wins.
“Wyatt, this is Harper.” Ace introduces me.
Wyatt smiles. "Hi, Harper."
"Hi, Wyatt." I crouch down to his level. "Can I see the drawing?"
He holds it out proudly. I take it, and I study it with the same seriousness Ace just did, because this kid deserves that.
"This is incredible. I love the tail."
"That's her leg."
"I love the leg."
He grins. Ace is watching me with an expression I'm not brave enough to look at for too long.
We take Wyatt to Rosie's Diner because, according to him, it has the best chicken tenders in the entire world, and also the ketchup comes in a bottle shaped like a tomato, which is apparently a critical factor.
He sits across from us in the booth, swinging his legs because they don't reach the floor, chattering nonstop about his day.
His teacher said he was the best reader in the class.
His friend Lucas brought a lizard to school in his pocket, and it escaped during math.
He wants to be just like his daddy on the ranch.
"Uncle Ace, can I have a milkshake?"
"What kind?"
"Chocolate."
"Done."
"And fries?"
"You're already getting fries."
"Extra fries."
Ace sighs, but he's smiling. "Extra fries."
I order a coffee and steal one of Wyatt's chicken tenders when he's not looking. He catches me and gasps like I've committed a felony. "Harper! That was my best one!"
"How can you tell which is the best one? They all look the same."
He stares at me, appalled. "They do not all look the same."
Ace leans back in the booth, arm stretched along the seat behind me. "He's right. They don't. You gotta learn tender politics, Goldie."
"Tender politics," I repeat.
"It's a whole thing."
Wyatt nods solemnly, and I have to bite my cheek to keep from laughing.
Halfway through dinner, Wyatt goes quiet for a minute, which, I'm learning, is unusual. He's dragging a fry through his ketchup, drawing little circles, and I can practically see the gears turning.
"Harper?" he says.
"Yeah?"
"Are you Uncle Ace's friend? Like Lola was Daddy's friend?"
The booth goes still. Ace's hand tightens on my shoulder, just barely. I glance at Ace. He's looking at Wyatt with that soft expression he reserves entirely for this kid, the one that cracks open the tough exterior and shows you exactly who he is underneath.
He tilts his head at me.
I look back at Wyatt. "Yeah," I say. "Something like that."
Wyatt processes this. Nods once, seriously, like he's approving a business merger.
"Okay. Good." He bites his fry.
Ace taps on the table. “Wyatt. Harper is the girl I bought Penny for a long time ago.”
Wyatt frowns, glancing between us.
“You’re going to steal her back? Please don’t,” he says, pouting.
"I love Penny. But I’d never take her away from you, Wyatt."
Wyatt looks between Ace and me, and something shifts. "We could share her," he says. "Like, she could be your horse, too. When you're at Uncle Ace's house."
My throat tightens. I didn't expect that. This tiny, gap-toothed kid just offered me a place in his world like it was nothing.
"I'd really like that, Wyatt," I say.
"But I'm still her number one person."
"Obviously."
“I can always get you a new horse, Harper,” Ace chimes in.
“No. It’s okay. We’re good with sharing.”
"Okay. Deal." Wyatt sticks out his hand, ketchup on his fingers, completely serious.
I shake it. Ketchup and all.
Ace presses his lips to the side of my head, and I feel him exhale against my hair. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to.