Chapter 28
Jaxon
It’s been two hours since the text message sent me spiraling. Two hours of trying to think through every possible outcome. Two hours of realizing none of them end the way I want them to.
Conor hasn’t left my side once. Not for a second. I need time to think. Time to plan, my what? My escape? I grimace at the word. Because that isn’t really what this is. I’m not running away from Conor. I’m not running away from this house.
If anything, I’m trying to leave before I become the reason something happens to the people in his life.
Dinner had been a quiet affair. Through it all, Conor attended to me with the same infuriating attentiveness he’s shown since the day he brought me home.
My water glass never stayed empty. The moment I finished a slice of bread, another appeared on my plate along with the butter he somehow remembered I liked. Every small thing I needed was taken care of before I could even ask. Before I could sometimes even realize I wanted it.
The worst part is how natural he makes it look. Like, taking care of me isn’t an obligation. Like it doesn’t cost him anything at all.
I lose count of how many times tears sting my eyes during dinner. How many times do I have to blink them away before he notices? How many times have I had to swallow past the ache in my throat? Because every small kindness makes this harder.
Makes leaving harder. Makes forgetting him impossible. God help me, I want to keep this. Keep him. Keep the life that’s slowly starting to feel possible whenever he’s near. But wanting something has never been enough to make it mine.
After spending several minutes arguing with Conor that I was perfectly capable of helping clean up, I find myself standing beside him at the kitchen sink, drying dishes.
It’s oddly domestic. The silence between us isn’t awkward, exactly, but it’s heavy.
Filled with all the things neither of us has said since Henry’s text message.
I’m setting the last plate on the drying rack when the doorbell rings.
The sound cuts through the quiet house like a gunshot. I freeze.
Conor doesn’t move toward the front door. That alone tells me everything I need to know. He’s been expecting whoever is on the other side of it.
I hear the front door open a moment later. Then voices, and the unmistakable sound of tiny feet racing across hardwood floors. My heart squeezes before I even see him. The excited giggles echo through the house.
Seconds later, Ollie appears in the kitchen doorway at a full sprint, his curls bouncing as he barrels toward us. Or more specifically… toward me.
Ollie reaches both chubby arms high into the air.
“Up.” The demand is accompanied by a determined little bounce that almost makes me smile. My gaze immediately flicks to Conor and then to Ronan as he steps into the kitchen behind his son.
I want to pick Ollie up. God, I want to. But I’m not sure if that’s okay. I don’t know if parents care about things like that. I don’t know if Ronan would be comfortable with me carrying his kid around just because Ollie asked.
The thought feels ridiculous the moment it crosses my mind, but I can’t stop it. I didn’t exactly grow up learning how families work.
The first time I was ever around a baby, I was thirteen. One of my foster placements had a four-month-old little boy. He’d been the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Tiny fingers. Tiny feet. Big blue eyes that somehow made the whole world seem softer.
I used to sit across the room and watch him whenever I could. Not because I wanted attention from the foster parents. Not because I wanted anything at all. I just liked being near him. He was one of the few things in my life that felt completely innocent.
My thoughts snap back to the present when Ollie lets out an impatient little huff.
“Up,” he repeats, wiggling his fingers at me. Like he already knows what my answer should be.
“Ollie, Jaxon might not want to hold you,” Colton says from somewhere behind Ronan.
“I do.” The words come out far too quickly. Everyone turns to look at me. Heat immediately creeps up my neck. “I mean…” I clear my throat. “I wasn’t sure if you guys would be okay with it.” For a second, the kitchen is completely silent.
Then Ronan snorts, “Jaxon, if Ollie didn’t want to be held by you, he’d let you know.”
“Very loudly,” Colton adds.
As if to prove their point, Ollie turns a look of pure betrayal on his father. His little bottom lip pushes out. His brows furrow. The pout is so dramatic it belongs in an award-winning performance. Then he swivels back toward me.
“Up?”
Those big brown eyes somehow get even bigger. Dear God. He has the pout. And puppy dog eyes. That’s not a fair combination for anyone to possess, let alone a toddler. I don’t stand a chance.
I bend down and carefully scoop Ollie up.
The second he’s settled on my hip, the pout vanishes.
It’s replaced by a grin so wide it practically lights up his entire face.
I can’t help smiling back. Like always, Ollie takes that as encouragement and immediately launches into an enthusiastic stream of babbling.
I have absolutely no idea what he’s saying.
He seems very passionate about it, though.
His little hands wave around as he talks, occasionally punctuating his story with a bounce in my arms.
“I see there’s another sucker for the evil little spawn.” The voice comes from the doorway. I glance up to find a man who looks so much like Ronan that they could only be twins. Though this one’s grin is far more mischievous.
Before anyone can respond, Ollie whips his head around. He narrows his eyes. Then he blows the man a loud raspberry. The kitchen falls silent for a beat.
“Well,” the man sighs dramatically, “I see my favorite nephew is happy to see me, as always.”
Ollie responds with another raspberry. Even louder this time. I stare at him. Then, at the man. Then back at Ollie.
Is that the toddler equivalent of flipping someone off? Judging by the smug look on Ollie’s face… I’m pretty sure it is. The little menace actually looks pleased with himself.
“Ack ass,” Ollie announces proudly. Then he beams at me like he’s just shared the wisdom of the universe.
I blink. “What?”
The man in the doorway groans, “Don’t encourage him.”
“It’s his pet name for Liam,” Ronan says, sounding entirely too amused. “Dad called us jackasses one day, and Ollie apparently decided Liam was the only one who deserved the title.”
“For the record,” Liam says, pointing at the toddler currently sitting happily on my hip, “I was not even the jackass in question.”
“Ack ass,” Ollie repeats confidently. Then he points directly at Liam. Just in case anyone was confused. The kitchen erupts into laughter.
Liam throws his hands into the air. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Ack ass!”
“Stop calling me that.”
Ollie cackles. Actually cackles. Like a tiny criminal who’s gotten away with something. I find myself laughing too. The sound surprises me. Not because of the joke. But because it’s been a long time since laughter came this easily.
More voices drift in from the front of the house.
The Murphys seem physically incapable of arriving anywhere quietly.
Laughter follows the conversation, carrying down the hallway and filling the house with a warmth I’ve never really experienced before.
“Come on.” Conor’s hand settles on the small of my back. The touch is light. Guiding rather than pushing. “Time to meet the rest of my crazy family.”
I snort. “The rest?”
“Trust me, A Chroí. You’ve only met a fraction of them.”
That is both comforting and mildly terrifying. Before I can respond, Ollie suddenly begins squirming in my arms.
“Mo! Ki-Ki!”
The excitement in his voice is impossible to miss. Reluctantly, I lower him to the floor. The second his feet touch down, he takes off. Toddling at impressive speed toward the foyer. I follow his path just in time to see him crash into Alessia Murphy’s legs.
“There’s my baby!” she coos, immediately scooping him up.
The smile that spreads across her face is so bright it could power the entire city. Beside her, her husband looks equally pleased.
“Well, hello there, little man.”
Ollie responds by wrapping his arms around Alessia’s neck and planting a noisy kiss on her cheek. She laughs while his grandfather pretends to look offended.
“Nothing for me?”
Ollie considers him for a moment. Then leans over and gives him a kiss too. Just like that, the man’s entire face lights up. Something tightens painfully in my chest. Because no matter how old I get, I don’t think I’ll ever stop being surprised by families that actually love each other.
Everyone settles into the massive living room. Between the couches, armchairs, and various other pieces of furniture scattered throughout the space, there’s more than enough room for everyone. The Murphys fill it easily.
I linger near the edge of the room, suddenly feeling awkward and out of place. Like I’ve accidentally wandered into something I was never supposed to be part of. An intruder pretending to belong.
“I can just go to the bedroom and read while you…” The words barely leave my mouth before Conor cuts me off.
“No.” His answer is immediate. “I want you here.” I open my mouth to argue, but he beats me to it. “It’s a family meeting.”
The words hit me straight in the chest. Family, and he wants me here. Like I belong. Like my presence isn’t being tolerated. The thought is so overwhelming, I don’t know what to do with it.
Before I can even begin to process it, movement catches my attention from the corner of my eye. I turn and freeze. There’s no way. Across the room stands a man I would recognize anywhere. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Declan.
The man I fought eight months ago. I never knew his last name. Never knew anything about him beyond what happened in that ring. Yet here he is. Standing in Conor’s living room like this is the most normal thing in the world.