Page 36 of Buckin' Around

Or... I can stop being dramatic and wait for them to come home. My gut told me two things about Riley when we met, both the first time we met and the moment I laid eyes on her with my baby.

First, she is independent as fuck.

Second, she’s protective. Maybe more so than I can understand.

Nobody has ever been protective over Stacey and me. Even as kids, it was fend for yourself in almost every department. Emotionally, deal with it yourself. Life, sort out your own problems unless Daddy hands you his version of a solution because you took too long to decide. Family, the few people you shared a childhood house with, if only to keep up the pretense of the happy family facade that will help the family business.

I don’t remember the last time anyone aside from Brades had my back.

Deciding to trust the woman I’ve met three times, I sink onto the sofa and stare at my phone, like my heated gaze will entice it to ring.

The silence grows louder.

Until I am hallucinating the happy sounds of laughter.

Like some sick joke my mind plays on me to rub salt into the wound of what I missed in my childhood of being unloved.

Being pitted against your sister, each blamed for the things the other did, is not love. I know that now. It took a decade of therapy to unravel that little gem.

Still, I’m left with a shell of a soul and little to no understanding how to love. What it even means keeps me up some nights.

I huff a sardonic laugh at my inner thoughts. Poor little rich cowboy, Mommy and Daddy didn’t love you. Your only sibling is disgusted with you on a regular basis.

The wealth I live in is a stark contrast to the love debt I’ve racked up, deep as the pits of hell.

Whoever left their flesh and blood on my doorstep should have known that before leaving Ivy here. How can I raise a kid when my own upbringing was pure toxicity in disastrous proportions?

The mocking laughter turns to a soft echo.

Winding its way under the front door.

I let my head fall back, closing my eyes.

“I am so fucked up,” I mutter.

A knock on the door startles me, and I jump to my feet.

Who the hell?

I cross the foyer and pull the door open.

To an annoyed Riley, Ivy in her arms, her school bags hanging from one shoulder, a grocery bag hanging from the other.

“’Bout time, you eejit.” Her brows are permanently crushed downward as she pushes past me.

“Where the hell have you been?”

She ignores me, unloading her shoulders as she talks softly to Ivy.

“Riley? I came home to an empty apartment. My kid nowhere to be found.”

She rubs her palm over Ivy’s head before tossing a blanket on the floor and laying her down with a soft whisper I can’t make out.

When she rises, she stalks for me.

And hell, the fire in her dark eyes has me setting my shoulders back.

Her pointer finger stabs my polo shirt, over my heart, in sync with her steps as she advances on me.